NATHAN BURKE 
 
THE MACMILLAN COMPANY 
 
 NEW YORK BOSTON CHICAGO 
 ATLANTA SAN FRANCISCO 
 
 MACMILLAN & CO., LIMITED 
 
 LONDON BOMBAY CALCUTTA 
 MELBOURNE 
 
 THE MACMILLAN CO. OF CANADA, LTD. 
 
 TORONTO 
 
NATHAN BURKE 
 
 BY 
 
 MARY S. WATTS 
 
 AUTHOR OF "THE TENANTS," ETC. 
 
 THE MACMILLAN COMPANY 
 1910 
 
 All rights reserved 
 
COPYRIGHT, 1910, 
 BT THE MACMILLAN COMPANY. 
 
 Set up and electrotyped. Published April, 1910. Reprinted 
 April, twice ; June, 1910. 
 
 Ncrfaooti 
 
 J. 8. Cushing Co. Berwick & Smith Co. 
 Norwood, Mass., U.S.A. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 PART I 
 
 CHAPTER PAGB 
 
 I. IN WHICH MR. BURKE BEGINS THE WORLD . . 1 
 II. IN WHICH MR. BURKE S PEDIGREE COMES UNDER 
 
 DISCUSSION 13 
 
 III. CHILDE ROLAND TO THE DARK TOWER CAME . . 25 
 
 IV. THE MAIL-BAG 41 
 
 V. IN WHICH WE HEAR A LlTTLE ANCIENT HlSTORY . 59 
 
 VI. RES ANGUSTA DOMI 71 
 
 VII. IN WHICH IS CONTINUED THE CHRONICLE OF SMALL 
 
 BEER 85 
 
 VIII. IN WHICH MR. BURKE MAKES A NEW START . . 103 
 
 IX. EXORITUR CLAMOR VIRUM 119 
 
 X. LOG-CABINS-AND-IlARD-ClDER 131 
 
 XL IN WHICH NANCE BEGINS THE WORLD . . . 145 
 
 XII. THE MAIL-BAG 156 
 
 XIII. WHICH RAMBLES CONSIDERABLY .... 173 
 
 XIV. IN WHICH WE HEAR A LITTLE MORE ANCIENT HlS- 
 
 TORY 189 
 
 XV. WHICH is SHORT AND RATHER SERIOUS . . . 202 
 XVI. LONGER THAN THE LAST AND SOMEWHAT MORE 
 
 CHEERFUL ......... 211 
 
 XVII. IN WHICH THE HORSE BEING STOLEN NATHAN 
 
 SHUTS THE STABLE DOOR 226 
 
 XVIII. CONTAINS SUNDRY SOCIAL EXPERIENCES . . . 244 
 
 XIX. IN WHICH THE BAR RECEIVES A NOTABLE ADDITION 258 
 
 2 
 
VI 
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER 
 
 XX. 
 
 XXL 
 
 XXII. 
 XXIII. 
 
 I. 
 II. 
 
 III. 
 
 IV. 
 
 V. 
 
 VI. 
 
 VII. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 IX. 
 
 X. 
 
 XI. 
 
 XII. 
 XIII. 
 XIV. 
 
 XV. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 XX. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 CONTAINS SOME BUSINESS AND A GOOD DEAL OF 
 
 PLEASURE 272 
 
 IN WHICH MR. BURKE CASTS HIS FIRST VOTE . . 285 
 
 CONTAINS BOTH PEACE AND WAR .... 301 
 
 THE GIRL I LEFT BEHIND ME 316 
 
 PAET II 
 
 THE MAIL-BAG 334 
 
 IN WHICH WE MAKE SOME NEW FRIENDS AND MEET 
 
 ONE OLD ONE 349 
 
 MATAMOROS ......... 368 
 
 ALARUMS. EXCURSIONS 383 
 
 IN WHICH THE WARRIOR LANGUISHES IN HIS TENT 398 
 IN WHICH THE FIRST OHIO BEHAVES WELL UNDER 
 
 FIRE 408 
 
 IN WHICH THE AMERICAN ARMY MOVES ON TAMPICO 423 
 
 TAMPICO 437 
 
 "AND THERE WAS WAR AGAIN " .... 448 
 CONTAINS SOME HITHERTO UNPRINTED HISTORY OF 
 
 THE MEXICAN CAMPAIGN 458 
 
 THE BRIGADE OF SAINT PATRICK .... 472 
 
 THE STREET OF THE GOOD DEATH .... 483 
 
 ARMS YIELD TO THE TOGA 497 
 
 IN WHICH COLONEL BURKE GETS HIS DISCHARGE . 510 
 " HERE S SORRY CHEER! QUOTH THE HEIR o 
 
 LYNNE" 529 
 
 IN WHICH MR. BURKE RECEIVES AND MAKES VISITS 542 
 
 TIMES CHANGE AND WE CHANGE WITH THEM . 560 
 
 IN WHICH WE HEAR VARIOUS NEWS .... 574 
 
 IN WHICH MR. MARSH S WILL is OPENED . . 585 
 
 IN WHICH THE GRANGER CLAIMS ARE SETTLED . 599 
 
 EXEUNT OMNES 615 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 IN a part of the book which (whatever the fate of the rest 
 of it) hardly anybody ever reads, it may not be accounted 
 bad taste for the editor of this history to mention herself, or 
 to set down a few personal recollections. It might have 
 been better to say one personal recollection, for, as usually 
 happens, I find that what I unthinkingly supposed to be a 
 number of consecutive and vivid impressions resolves, upon 
 a rigid analysis, into a single one, and that rather hazy, con 
 nected with the inaugural ceremonies of some governor of our 
 State, thirty-five or forty years ago nearer forty, I fear ! 
 My grandfather took me to see the parade, a day to be regis 
 tered with a white stone though what governor it was, 
 and what troops, whether militia or regulars that paraded, 
 and why they did it, and what all the crowds, and hurrahing, 
 and brazen uproar of bands, and huge spectacular to-do were 
 about I knew no more than the man in the moon, no more 
 than the other six-year-old youngsters, no more than I do 
 at this moment, and cared as little. It was a raw, drizzling 
 day in January that being the season humanely selected 
 by our authorities for all such civic celebrations in the open 
 air; we stood on a platform or hustings, jammed in with many 
 others, and I vaguely remember the proletariat surging at 
 our feet. There was, no doubt, the usual protracted wait, 
 the usual dashing up and down of important gentlemen in 
 glorious regalia on horseback, the invariable policemen 
 hustling the invariable drunk-and-disorderlies, the scurrying 
 dogs, the bewildered but resolute old lady who will cross the 
 street no parade ever took place without these accessories. 
 And then, at last, distant cheering, the Star-Spangled Banner 
 on a whole platoon of key-bugles, and the soldiers wheeling 
 into sight half a dozen blocks away. After them open car 
 riages with parties of portly complacent gentlemen, taking 
 off their hats to the crowd, as if it were a privilege to catch 
 
 vii 
 
viii INTRODUCTION 
 
 cold in such a cause one, in particular, who does more smil 
 ing and bowing and is saluted with more vigorous roaring 
 than all the others put together, as I observe. Then more 
 bands, and soldiers, and carriages. And then, suddenly, 
 with a terrifying outburst of sound all along the street, some 
 one riding at the head of a small company under a haggard 
 old faded dish-clout of a flag that whips tight around the staff 
 in the cold, rain-laden wind. Why does everybody make 
 such an appalling rumpus ? And lo, my grandfather, an old 
 gentleman of stately and serene behavior in ordinary circum 
 stances, madly snatches off his high shining hat, and sets it 
 on his cane, the ebony cane topped with gold that men of his 
 age carried in those days, and waves it aloft, and bawls: 
 " Bravo, Nat!" I remember with an extraordinary distinct 
 ness how the hat flew off and went skipping about amongst 
 the heads and shoulders of the proletariat until it was rescued 
 by an agile member thereof, who shinned up one of the posts 
 supporting our rostrum to restore it. That s right, old 
 hoss!" he said approvingly as my grandfather once more 
 brandished it in the face of Heaven, holding it firmly by the 
 brim this time, however. "Naw, I don t want yer money. 
 Give him a good one! Yay, Yay, Yay! Fighting Burke! 
 Fighting Nat Burke! Yay, Yay, Yay!" Thus does this 
 son of toil express himself with vast energy and lungs of sole- 
 leather. One of us is a little frightened, I believe. 
 
 There succeeds an interval foggily associated in my mind 
 with ice-cream; and then we are posted under some kind of 
 portico, and I clutch my grandfather s hand very tight, as 
 somebody rides up with his great glossy long-tailed black 
 charger flinging the gravel of the roadway this way and that 
 and champing on two or three bits, with two or three bridle- 
 reins so they appear to me. Of the ensuing conversation I 
 recollect every syllable by some freak of memory. "Hey, 
 General!" remarked my grandfather. "Hey, Charlie!" 
 returned the hero; and, looking down from his elevation, 
 uttered these winged words, "You ve got your hat knocked 
 in on top." My grandfather took it off and examined it with 
 a rueful grin. " Too much enthusiasm, Nat," he said; "it s 
 no matter, this rain s ruined it anyhow. Did it rain like 
 this at Chapultepec? " General Burke says that it didn t 
 rain at Chapultepec. It rained at Contreras, though 
 
INTRODUCTION ix 
 
 and, to my dismay, "Whose little girl is that ?" he asks. 
 My grandfather explains that it is John s little girl; where 
 upon I am lifted up to the pommel of the saddle, and cling there 
 between terror and delight while the great man (who seems at 
 least eight feet high, and, as his thick hair is white, must be, 
 in my judgment, a hundred years old) looks at me with his 
 steady, bright blue eyes, and asks me how old I am, and how 
 far I have got in the Reader? 
 
 And here, to be strictly honest, this record must close; for 
 what else the general said and did on the one occasion .when 
 I saw him, I cannot remember or cannot disentangle what 
 I remember from what I have been told. I must believe the 
 occurrence was of some importance, for I was never allowed 
 to forget it; but upon these skeleton memories the older 
 people about us and we ourselves in later years uncon 
 sciously hang such a fabric of ideas and suggestions that a 
 childish recollection ought not, after all, to count for much, 
 if it were not that by these feeble links the generations are 
 strung together; and the merest wire of a tradition may still 
 bring us some message from the lonesome dead. 
 
 General Burke was in active legal practice up to the time 
 of his death, which occurred very suddenly of heart failure, 
 during the summer of 1889. He was known by his family to 
 have been occupying his spare moments with writing his 
 autobiography; and, indeed, was found at the last (by his 
 daughter-in-law, with whom and his son, James S. Burke, he 
 made his home after his wife s death) sitting lifeless at his 
 desk with the pen in his hand, a piece of manuscript before 
 him, and a great quantity of the papers old letters, frag 
 ments of diaries, newspaper clippings, and so on which he 
 had accumulated to assist him in this task, scattered about 
 the table. In the haste, confusion, and distress of the dis 
 covery these were all swept aside into drawers and portfolios; 
 and it was not until some while afterwards, when the Bar 
 Association and the members of General Burke s commandery 
 of the Loyal Legion proposed to publish their several memo 
 rials, that any attention was given to this collection of memo 
 randa, from which, being under his own hand and as it were 
 authoritative, much valuable and interesting information 
 might have been extracted. Now, however, a difficulty 
 
x INTRODUCTION 
 
 arose: the papers had got into the greatest disorder, the 
 manuscript biography itself bore traces of Burke s evident 
 intention to revise and alter it, no one knew in what sequence 
 the letters and clippings were to be inserted, if at all, and 
 finally, even if the general s plan had been perfectly clear, or 
 his work finished, it was to be doubted whether as many of 
 the people whom he mentions were still living, and as he had 
 uttered his mind about them and others with entire freedom 
 it would be advisable, or in accordance with his desire, to 
 make the autobiography, or any part of it, public. In the 
 end, as commonly happens, nothing was done; none of 
 Burke s heirs felt disposed to take any responsibilities; and 
 the whole mass of writing lay neglected in its box, was carted 
 about the country in the course of many changes of residence 
 or other family upheavals, tenanted a dozen attics, and at the 
 last was actually preserved from complete oblivion and per 
 haps destruction by a chance inquiry from the custodian of 
 our State Historical Society. He was preparing an article 
 for one of the monthlies on the Mexican War; and finding a 
 reference to General Burke as the "Hero of Chapultepec," 
 wanted to inform himself further. As it turned out, however, 
 a minute examination of all the printed and written docu 
 ments the general had collected failed to unearth anything 
 about Chapultepec, except a couple of lines in his journal, 
 "Sept. 13, 1847. 9 o clock at night. In camp outside Belen 
 Gate, City of Mexico. Castle stormed this forenoon. Very 
 tired: 
 
 The task of editing this memoir fell to me as being one of 
 the few people who remembered its author, warmly inter 
 ested in the history of the State, and, for a final touch, a 
 follower of letters, accustomed to the preparation of matter 
 for print. If I judge Burke aright, nothing could have given 
 the old gentleman more ironic amusement than the prospect 
 of his autobiography committed to the cares of a literary 
 woman; but I have tampered with it as little as possible. 
 Somewhere Burke quotes old George Marsh as saying: "You 
 let a man talk half an hour and he ll tell you what sort of a 
 fellow he is." Put a pen in his hand and let him write unre 
 servedly, and he will do the same, I think. Nay, let him 
 write as artificially and with as much restraint as he chooses, 
 still will he write himself down an ass, a sage, a coward, a hero, 
 
INTRODUCTION xi 
 
 a rogue, an honest man, in spite of him ! Burke wrote con 
 sciously for posterity his own posterity, that is, and not 
 without some posing ; witness his funny and rather amiable 
 little affectation of relating his story (except when he forgets 
 or grows excited) in the third person, like Caesar. Yet no 
 man could have felt a heartier hatred for the sham; and he 
 was too shrewd or had too intimate a knowledge of the world 
 not to realize that nothing he could say would describe or 
 explain people one-half so well as what they said themselves. 
 That, doubtless, was his reason for preserving the scores of 
 letters which we found interspersed with his notes and diaries. 
 Some of them are almost without interest, even to the family ; 
 and it has been repeatedly pointed out to me that many (in 
 fact, most !) of George Ducey s and Anne s are ^in the sturdy 
 phrase of one commentator "no better than so much waste 
 paper," from which nobody on earth could get either enter 
 tainment or instruction. But it seems to be the plain duty 
 of the general s literary executor to present them in full as he 
 probably intended. 
 
 There are only two or three likenesses in existence of Na 
 than Burke. Needless to say, he was not an eight-foot giant 
 in stature; a daguerreotype taken about 1852 shows him to 
 have been a slender man not much over medium height, with 
 brown or dark hair which became very white later, although 
 he did not live to an advanced age. He died August 4, 1889, 
 in his sixty-eighth year. The head in oils owned by Major 
 John V. Burke was executed by a Mrs. Spencer, who had some 
 local fame, in 1867; it is not considered a good likeness by the 
 family; and, although Burke never could have been a par 
 ticularly good-looking man, it is difficult to believe that his 
 face was so smooth and characterless as the painting repre 
 sents it. In the hall of the Pioneer Society rooms there hangs 
 a tremendous, panoramic lithograph having for its subject 
 " General Taylor at Buena Vista." Old "Rough-and- 
 Ready" is there depicted on his famous white horse, postur 
 ing in the middle with his brigade-commanders and aides 
 disposed throughout the landscape in a variety of swashbuck 
 ling attitudes. They are all numbered and labeled in the 
 margin; and one with a cocked hat, curling side-whiskers and 
 an engaging smile, caught in the act of running a Mexican 
 through, is noted in the index as "Col. N. Burke." Un- 
 
xii INTRODUCTION 
 
 fortunately, however, Burke was never known to wear a 
 cocked hat or curly side-whiskers in his life, and moreover was 
 not a colonel at this time, and did not serve at Buena Vista, 
 being several hundred miles off in another part of Mexico; so 
 we may fairly set this portrait down as not authentic. 
 
 I take the opportunity of expressing my thanks to Mr. W. 
 P. Saunders, Librarian of the State Society of Antiquarian 
 Research, to Mr. Lyman Alcott, President of the Pioneers 
 Association, and to Mr. Benjamin Howard of the Daily 
 Press for their kindness in allowing and assisting me to ex 
 amine the records of their societies and the back-files of the 
 Press ; to Mr. Samuel Gwynne Stevens and to Mr. Horace 
 Gwynne, Jr., for the loan of family manuscripts, and to Miss 
 Frances Burke for help in deciphering some of her grand 
 father s papers. 
 
 MARY S. WATTS. 
 
 CINCINNATI, OHIO, 
 April 1, 1908. 
 
NATHAN BURKE 
 
NATHAN BURKE 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 IN WHICH MR. BURKE BEGINS THE WORLD 
 
 A MAN S memory, be it ever so exact and vigorous, is, at 
 best, an unstable sort of tool, or, if that figure does not 
 please, let me liken it to an unbiddable servant, forever 
 fetching us the wrong thing, or refusing to fetch at all, or 
 going capering off with a childish futility, on some back 
 ward trail, led by a sound, a scent, a passing glance. As I 
 sat here, addressing myself to the more or less serious task 
 of recording Nathan Burke s career and history, and quite 
 resolute to begin where all biographers should, at the begin 
 ning, my servant (to pursue the allegory) went clean dis 
 tracted at the opening of a window near by, the entering 
 fragrance of lilacs, and the view of a few blossoming fruit 
 trees in a neighboring yard, shaken and dismantled by the 
 sweet fresh gales of spring. These trifles sharply recalled 
 another day, another spring, a yard not unlike this of my 
 neighbor s, with just such a handsome sober house set in the 
 middle of it; and looking out in the direction of the woodshed 
 whence proceeded a lusty sound of whistling, I beheld, upon 
 my soul, the living counterpart and image of Mr. Burke as 
 he was upwards of forty years ago, in the person of the 
 hired man jauntily swinging an axe upon a pile of stove 
 wood! Burke chops a little decorously in his own wood 
 shed nowadays for his health, and his own chore-boy smil 
 ingly humors the old gentleman, admires the symmetry of 
 his kindlings, and pointedly expresses grave doubts whether 
 he (the boy) could get through his duties without the general s 
 stout assistance. He is unconscious that the latter, beneath 
 a surface pleasantry, conceals reserves of gall; some day 
 B 1 
 
2 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 Mr. Burke means to be revenged on this patronizing menial. 
 Some day he will burst out and say: " Young man, when 
 I was your age which I take to be seventeen or so, by 
 the exceedingly wide register of your rather unmanageable 
 voice, and the vernal display of small blooms upon your 
 countenance yes, when I was two years younger, I was 
 twice the chore-boy you are, for all your airs ! I could milk 
 a cow, or harness a horse, or fell a tree with any man in 
 the county. To be sure I was only getting twelve dollars 
 a month and my keep for all these accomplishments, whereas 
 you get (you do not by any means earn) twenty-five or 
 more but times are changed. Flaccid product of civili 
 zation that you are " the chore-boy will estimate this 
 as some fearfully and wonderfully recondite " cuss- word" 
 " what are your recollections and experiences at seventeen 
 compared to mine at the same age ? An ignoble record of 
 hooky-playing, orchard-robbing, surreptitious gambling and 
 tobacco-smoking constitutes all your romance. Did you 
 ever shoot deer with an old Tower musket that was 
 carried in the War of 1812 ? Did you ever go fishing and 
 trapping with Jake Darnell Jake Darnell who knew Mad 
 Anthony Wayne, and had scouted with Daniel Boone ? Go 
 to! I ll lay a double eagle to a shin-plaster, sir, that you 
 never even heard of the Alamo I, I who speak to you, 
 can remember when it didn t surrender!" The chore-boy 
 will listen respectfully, and will afterwards be overheard 
 remarking to the boy next door that he wouldn t wonder 
 if th old gin ral was breakin up fast, Hank. He don t ack 
 nachul. You d oughta heard him th other day blowin 
 around bout what he used to could do when he was my 
 size. Tain t like him, not a bit! 
 
 No, it would not be much like him, even in his present 
 state of senile decrepitude, at the age of sixty odd; those 
 words will never be spoken, as much for Burke s own sake 
 as for yours, oh, pimpled, crowing, squeaking, awkward, 
 kind-hearted chore-boy ! Surely it is no longer ago than 
 last month, last week, yesterday, that Nat Burke, pimpled, 
 crowing, squeaking, awkward, and I hope kind-hearted 
 even as you, was set down out of the farm wagon at Mr. 
 William Ducey s gate on a spring morning, bright and windy 
 even as this, to enter upon his first job. The doleful truth 
 
MR. BURKE BEGINS THE WORLD 3 
 
 is that it was in the year of Grace 183- ; though, as Nat 
 kept no journal of his daily doings at that time, his utmost 
 accomplishment in the clerkly way being his own name 
 in print letters the actual date of his arrival must remain 
 unknown. He had got up at dawn, the cool, blowing, pink- 
 skied dawn of an April day ; from the tiny window in the 
 peak of the cabin-loft that was Nat s bedchamber, and 
 from the bench beside the back door, where with a bucket 
 of icy well water he performed his toilet, the boy could see 
 a bit of black bottom-land where wheat his own hand had 
 sown last autumn was beginning to show tenderly ; beyond 
 were the flat shining links of the river and the woody slopes 
 of its farther bank. The trees were still leafless ; they lay 
 like a wreath of smoke about the landscape, pricked out with 
 purple here and there where the red buds were coming into 
 bloom. The service-bush had sprung to life, miraculously, 
 over night, and now timidly shook out a handful of its frail 
 green-white blossoms on the edge of the deadening. A thou 
 sand odors, growth and decay commingled, starting grass 
 and rotting leaves, were in the air ; a kind of newness in 
 the feel of the stable-mire under foot as Nathan went squelch 
 ing through it. Moisture that was not frost, but real dew, 
 like the dew of summer, glistened on the fence rails, on the 
 shingles of the cabin and its environing sheds and lean-tos. 
 They were not rich in architectural detail, and Nathan knew 
 them as he knew the lines of his palm ; since he was born 
 he had opened and closed his eyes morning and evening 
 upon a scene that varied only with the seasons. To-day he 
 was conscious of no more acute vision than at other times ; 
 knowingly, at least, he made no effort to impress the kind 
 and homely picture on his memory. Yet to the end of his 
 life he will remember it as he saw it then: the logs of the 
 cabin chinked with clay, the smoke from its chimney, the 
 squirrel that chittered on the fence, the tapped sugar- 
 maple hard by, with a little wooden gutter to lead the sap 
 into the broken crock between its roots, the bird that sent 
 a ringing call from its topmost branches, the very look and 
 motion of the old mare by the straw-rick, still shaggy with 
 her winter coat, raising her wise head to watch him, her 
 foal staring not at all wisely for a moment, then flinging up 
 its knock-kneed legs in an inane caracole and circling around 
 
4 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 in a fit of coltish good spirits. Is it because on this morn 
 ing Nathan began the world ? He put the event to himself 
 in no such high, resounding terms; he would have told you 
 concisely for he was not then and never became a par 
 ticularly free talker that he had got a job by the month, 
 choring for Mr. William Ducey. And as to entering upon 
 his career, Nat would scarcely have supposed that splitting 
 kindlings, washing carriages, making gardens, and cutting 
 grass merited so fine a name; for all that, the day and scene 
 abide monumentally among his recollections, and have out 
 lasted a score of others better worth remembering. 
 
 It was some fifteen miles to toAvn, which Nathan proposed 
 to trudge between sunrise and eight o clock. At this season 
 the back-country road would be none of the best, as he knew; 
 in places along the river-bottoms it would be almost knee- 
 deep in mud. But to cross over to the east and take the 
 State Road would mean an extra five miles, and he would not 
 gain enough either in time or ease of walking to make it 
 worth his while. Without doubt he liked the river road, 
 stones and mud, hill and hollow, a deal better. It had been 
 a trail in Indian days, and they were not so distant, nor the 
 frontier itself so remote in the thirties but that some hint 
 of the pioneer s wild and bloody romance might yet hang 
 about his ancient path to attract the feet of a boy. Indeed, 
 Nathan loved his river with the shy and speechless sentiment 
 of his fifteen years; he had been born and brought up on its 
 banks, had fished and hunted along its every turn, gone 
 swimming in its every basin; even its pretty and flowing 
 Indian name obscurely charmed him. To this day he calls it 
 to mind with a sort of pleasant pang; he has seen the Niagara 
 and the Mississippi, and the streams of many great lands 
 but are not the Scioto and the Olentanjy, rivers of Ohio, 
 better than all alien waters ? 
 
 So Nat, the route decided upon, set about his preparations 
 cheerily; they were not very elaborate, for they consisted 
 mainly in the handy looping together on a leather thong of 
 his one pair of cowhide boots, so that they might hang 
 around his neck, and not impede his walking by being on his 
 feet. It was quite warm enough, in Nat s opinion, to go 
 without boots, and when he got near town, where it behooved 
 him to make a dressy appearance, he would put them on. 
 
MR. BURKE BEGINS THE WORLD 5 
 
 The rest of his wardrobe a clean calico shirt and a pair of 
 knit yarn socks he carried in a bundle. He had hesi 
 tated a little about taking his gun, that same famous old 
 musket that had belonged to his father, and had smote 
 Britishers, hip and thigh, and redskins likewise in Tecumseh s 
 battles, not to mention all its other heroic and notable deeds, 
 before Nathan was born; it seemed as if there would be no 
 especial point in lugging this formidable piece of artillery 
 about amongst the supine population of the city. What 
 possible use could Mr. Ducey s hired man have for a gun ? 
 Yet he was loath to leave it; he had for it the unreasoning 
 fondness that every one must feel for a faithful tool. And 
 while he was turning the question in his mind, Mrs. Williams 
 settled it for him once for all, by taking the weapon down 
 from where it hung on the cabin wall out of reach of the chil 
 dren, and handing it to him half an hour later, beautifully 
 swabbed and polished, the lock oiled, the barrel rubbed until 
 the delicate arabesque traceries upon the steel quivered with 
 reflections in the sun like a riffle in the Scioto. " Better not 
 load it, Nathan," was all she said. "S long as you re goin 
 where there s folks." 
 
 "I wasn t goin to take it I thought mebbe they d be 
 skeered of me," said Nathan, thanking her awkwardly. 
 
 "I guess not anybody that had any sense d know th 
 kind of boy you are," said Mrs. Williams, briefly. "It was 
 yer pa s gun, an you d oughter have it you ain t got much. 
 An ther s no use leavin it here to git knocked round, cuz 
 you won t ever come back." 
 
 " Why, yes, I will so. I m goin to come back some day 
 some day soon," declared the boy, surprised. She gave a 
 kind of negative twitch with her head and shoulders, and 
 turned back to the skillet of pork frying over the coals. The 
 wide glare from the hearth beat upon her gaunt, big-boned 
 frame, the lank folds of her faded print dress, the gnarled 
 hand she put up to shade her eyes as she stooped over her 
 task. She was not yet thirty, as Nathan knew, but she had 
 hardly a tooth left and looked as old as Methuselah, as old 
 as her own mother, old woman Darce, sitting yonder in the 
 chimney-corner mumbling the stem of her pipe. It was diffi 
 cult to believe that either one of them could ever have been a 
 girl like Jake Darnell s Nance, for instance she was almost 
 
6 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 the only girl whom Nathan knew, and he pondered over the 
 comparison, eying Mrs. Williams gravely. For the first 
 time in his life it occurred to him to wonder that all women 
 should be either pretty young girls or weather-beaten and 
 broken old hags; in his experience of the sex there were only 
 the two varieties. Thirty seemed to him then a prodigious 
 antiquity; he was vaguely sorry for Mrs. Williams. Per 
 haps some conception of the sad ugliness of her existence 
 entered the boy s mind; she would have been the last person 
 in the world to pity herself, but suddenly Nathan perceived 
 a painful unfairness in the fact that here he was going away 
 to the city with all its wonders for, after all, the city is the 
 city, and even for a hired man, even for a sober-thinking lad 
 like Nat Burke, replete with diversions and novelties and 
 poor Mrs. Williams must stay on changelessly, doing the same 
 work, seeing the same things, day after day, year in and year 
 out. In later times Burke recalled with some amusement the 
 brilliant perspective this fifteen-mile journey opened for him; 
 but fifteen miles in those days was to the backwoods as a 
 hundred now; and for that matter it still seems to me that 
 in every journey, even in the last great journey of all, he that 
 travels has the best of it, and the heartache is to those that 
 are left behind. 
 
 Nat went out and conscientiously fed and watered the stock 
 on this last morning, brought in a pail of milk, and drew one 
 of water for Mrs. Williams, according to his wont. Liph 
 Williams, observing this, commented jocosely upon it as they 
 sat down to breakfast. " Thought ye was Ducey s hired 
 man now, Nat," he said. " Changed yer mind, hey? I 
 can t give ye no twelve dollars a month, y know. Yer 
 keep s all ye ve been wuth to me so far. So ye d better think 
 twicet, and not carry no more water, ner milk no more cows 
 than ye hev to." 
 
 " Tain t nothin but what I d orter do, long as I ain t 
 goin to be here after this," said Nathan, somewhat abashed. 
 " I done it fer fer good-by. That old well s pretty hard to 
 git water up from fer womenfolks, I mean." 
 
 Williams laughed. "Ye wanter look out, Nathan; ye re 
 th kind that gits put upon." 
 
 "TV well s all right, Nathan. Tain t no trouble fer me," 
 said Mrs. Williams, harshly. She got up hastily from the 
 
MR. BURKE BEGINS THE WORLD 7 
 
 table and began to clatter among her pots and pans, turning 
 her back on the company. Nat was so far from suspecting 
 that anybody could possibly miss him, or feel a regret at his 
 going, that, noticing her flushed face and puffy eyelids a little 
 while after when he took his leave, he set them down to the 
 heat of the fire over which she had been bending. It was 
 not a tragic farewell; the struggle itself stern and serious 
 enough for a mere living among backwoods folk almost 
 exhausted their capacity for emotion; they had little leisure 
 for the expression of either joy or sorrow, pain or pleasure. 
 The great and moving events of life came to them like the 
 seasons of the year; and their hard philosophy recognized 
 that these things, like the seasons, whether good or bad, were 
 ineluctable yet sure to change. Whatever tenderness Mrs. 
 Williams felt for Nathan, whatever rough friendship had 
 grown up between the boy and Liph during the years of their 
 life together, not one of them would have been able to give 
 it voice; the purple patch would have disconcerted them all. 
 "Wish ye luck, Nat," the farmer said shortly, yet with a real 
 kindness, and went off to his plough. So fine a morning could 
 not be wasted in useless ceremonies; almost before Nathan 
 had reached the road he could hear Liph shouting lustily 
 behind his horses in the corn-field back of the cabin. Mrs. 
 Williams, however, came to the door, and watched him as he 
 strode confidently away. "He won t ever come back, 
 cep n mebbe to see us oncet," she said aloud. "Well " 
 she went resolutely into the house. Nat himself, to be 
 truthful, departed without much of a pang. He had some 
 trouble in ordering back the dog, who came bouncing after 
 him under the mistaken impression that a gun and a bundle 
 meant, as usual, all day in the woods, and perhaps wild tur 
 key or quail. He lacked the discernment to distinguish one 
 game-season from another, or a musket from a shot-gun, and 
 was confounded at the roughness of his welcome. Nathan 
 had to stamp, to bawl furiously, finally to make the motion 
 of stooping for a stone and throwing it (he had not the heart 
 to perform that unkind and unjust action in reality) before 
 the creature could understand him. It stopped still with its 
 head on one side, eying him, tentatively wagging, grinning 
 doggishly, and wrinkling its brows in interrogation; then 
 retreated slowly, drooping and reproachful. 
 
8 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 Nat went on in a kind of sober lightness of heart; he was a 
 quiet boy, and, even at fifteen, felt no disposition to celebrate 
 his entrance into manhood for was he not Ducey s hired 
 man f by any undue demonstrations. Another boy in his 
 place might have been whistling and shying pebbles at the 
 robins and squirrels; but Nathan was too much of a sports 
 man for the latter amiable pursuit; if he took the trouble to 
 notice a squirrel or robin at all, it was because he meant to 
 shoot it for supper. And as to whistling, he could not carry 
 a tune to save his life, and his whistle resembled in strength 
 and melody the sound made by an ungreased cart-wheel. 
 Knowing the distance he must go, he settled down into the 
 long, ungraceful lope of the backwoodsman, which gets over 
 the ground with amazing rapidity and the least possible fa 
 tigue; and in an hour or so sighted Jake Darnell s cabin on 
 the bluff above the river. There was smoke coming from the 
 chimney, but no other sign of activity about the raw, littered 
 yard, or the neglected corn-patch by the roadside, although 
 the day was already pretty well advanced according to 
 Nathan s reckoning. Approaching he caught a gleam of 
 scarlet by the door and saw Nance feeding half a dozen hens 
 from a pan of corn-meal mush. Nathan paused, not at the 
 gate for there was none, but in an angle of the sagging rail 
 fence, and Nance came slowly towards him, shooing the chick 
 ens from under her feet. 
 
 "Goin ?" she queried without other salutation, taking in 
 at a single flashing glance the boots, the gun, the bundle, and 
 the import of all three. She put down the pan on a conven 
 ient stump, leaned against it with her arms folded, kicked 
 a chicken out of the way, and surveyed Nathan from top to 
 toe keenly. " When d ye low ye ll git to Ducey s, Nat ?" 
 
 " Bout th middle of th forenoon, I expect. Yer pap 
 wouldn t be goin , would he ? He said he might need powder 
 V shot by this time." 
 
 " Well, he don t," said Nance, decisively. She cast a sharp 
 look over her shoulder at the house. "Did ye wanter see 
 him?" 
 
 "Not unless he s handy," Nathan said. "I I thought 
 I d jest like to say thanky to him for gittin me th place with 
 Duceys. I ain t had a chance to tell him so. Hadn t a been 
 fer him, I don t guess they d ever known anything bout me. 
 
MR. BURKE BEGINS THE WORLD 9 
 
 "Oh, I reckon pap didn t strain himself," said Nance. 
 "Ye re welcome to whatever he done er said. Ye can t see 
 him this mornin , anyhow. He s plumb full full s a tick. 
 Come home last night so s he couldn t hardly stand up. I 
 hed to make him a kinder pallet on th floor. Ye know he s 
 been up in Hardin County shootin , an he got a kinder 
 runty little she-deer, wan t much bigger n a six-weeks calf 
 th way they git along towards th end of th winter, y know 
 an he took and sold it fer three dollars over at th cross 
 roads, an come home with most of it inside him, I guess; 
 leastways they wan t but two bits in his pockets when I 
 went through em. I ve seen him wuss drunk, though; he ll 
 be out of it by sundown, cordin to th signs. / know him." 
 She gave these data with a sort of detached almost profes 
 sional unconcern, and finished with a wide hearty yawn, 
 showing a row of teeth small, even, and white, like grains of 
 Indian corn. "I git sorter tired, times, settin up waitin 
 fer him," she explained, with no slightest trace of complaint 
 in her tone, however. 
 
 Nathan looked at her with a feeling remotely akin to pity. 
 He must have been in something of a melting mood that 
 morning, for he had never before given any consideration to 
 the lot or character of Mrs. Williams, of Nance Darnell, of any 
 body on earth, even himself. At this distance of time I cannot 
 judge the boy impartially; yet I like to think that some hu 
 mane and kindly spirit was beginning to stir faintly within 
 him. " It s kinder hard on ye, Nance, hevin yer pa git drunk 
 so often " 
 
 1 Why ? He never lays a hand on me, " said the girl . The 
 red flushed hotly over her dark, rich-colored face; her big 
 black eyes blazed; she looked at Nathan almost vengefully. 
 "He s as good as gold, pap is ; whoever says he ain t, lies! 
 I d a heap ruther hev pap drunk than some other folks 
 fathers sober, 7 tell ye!" 
 
 "I didn t mean that way," said Nathan, clumsily, a little 
 cloudy in his own mind as to what he did mean. "I wasn t 
 sayin anything agin yer father he s too good a friend to 
 me fer that. Only seems as if you d be better off if he didn t 
 take too much, times." 
 
 "Well, it s nat ral to a man to drink, I guess," said Nance, 
 tolerantly. " Don know how you re goin to stop em. Pap 
 
10 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 ain t like some, swillin jest fer th taste. He don t keer 
 nothin bout th taste he jest does it to feel good. Pap 
 ain t no hog." 
 
 There appeared to Nathan also a species of distorted virtue 
 in this trait of Jake Darnell s. He was nowise amused or 
 taken aback by Nance s fierce loyalty, although there were 
 other times when he could not comprehend the girl. The 
 very next moment she surprised him by bursting out with: 
 "Oh, Nathan, ain t th day jest jest - In default of 
 
 vocabulary she made a sweeping gesture with her lithe strong 
 arms, and drew in a long breath. " Seems like I could jest 
 holler, cause I m alive! Look at th sarvis-bush over there. 
 Say, do you know what it puts me in mind of ? It puts me 
 in mind of a little Injun girl hidin an peekin an kinder 
 fraid to come out." 
 
 "You always hev such fancy notions, Nance," said the 
 boy, wonderingly. 
 
 "I dunno what makes me hev em mebbe everybody 
 does, only they don t come out an say em like I do," she said 
 and laughed, giving him a quick conscious glance. In fact, 
 Nance with her odd violent changes of mood, her spurts of 
 temper, her open display of feeling, was an exotic figure 
 amongst her surroundings; and Nathan, as narrow as was 
 his experience, was already dimly aware of it. Mrs. Wil 
 liams, he thought, might indeed have been a girl once, but 
 could she ever have been a girl like Nance Darnell ? 
 
 "Mis Williams is real sorry ye re goin , Nat," she said, 
 hitting neatly upon the subject of his thoughts by one of 
 those uncanny chances with which we are all familiar. "She 
 was cryin th other day when we was talkin bout it. She 
 lowed she set as much store by you, s f you was her own 
 son." 
 
 Nathan crimsoned and stuttered, incoherent with surprise. 
 He felt the shock of pleasure succeeded by a potent anxiety 
 with which we make the discovery that somebody is fond of 
 us; it is a responsibility to have somebody fond of you. 
 
 "I m goin to come back an see you all every time I git a 
 chance," he said. "I told her so." 
 
 "S posin ye don t git th place after all, Nat? S posin 
 Ducey s hired somebody else ?" 
 
 "Oh, I don t reckon he d do that," said Nathan, confi- 
 
MR. BURKE BEGINS THE WORLD 11 
 
 dently. "He told yer pap he was set on gittin a reg lar 
 country-boy that d know all bout country-things, so s he 
 wouldn t hev to teach him nothin . I guess that s me. I 
 don t know nothin else," he added humorously. "When yer 
 pap s in town, he ll come round an see me, won t he ?" 
 
 "If he don t git nothin to drink first," said Nance. "Next 
 time he goes I m goin with him. I kin keep him straight. 
 Cause, ye know, he always gives me th money right off that 
 he gits fer th quail, er rabbit, er th varmints pelts he s got 
 to sell, an then I spend it fer what we need. That s th only 
 way to do with pap jest spend his money before he gits 
 holt of a whiskey-jug, er they won t be any to spend. I found 
 out that quick s I commenced goin to town with him. That 
 was last year some time, y know. I been three-four times 
 here lately." 
 
 Nathan was interested; he had been only once himself. 
 "Did ye ever see Mr. Ducey, Nance ?" 
 
 She nodded. "Lord, yes! Pap goes to th store every 
 time he s got anything to sell, you know. Tain t Ducey s 
 store, it s Mr. Marsh s, too; leastways th old man is gin rally 
 round somewheres. I guess he does most of the tradin . 
 I ve seen Mis Ducey, too, Nathan." Her face lit up with the 
 recollection. It was another of those outbreaks of enthu 
 siasm that so transfigured Nance; her eyes glowed; there 
 was something at once brilliant and tender in her expression. 
 "Oh, Nathan, you d oughter see her! Never mind you re 
 goin to. My, I wisht it was me! She s jest " again the 
 lack of words defeated her. "She s got blue eyes, an th 
 least little teenty hands like a coon s paws, only they re 
 white stid of black white like snow but kinder cimnin 
 that same way coons paws is, I mean. An her hair jest as 
 yaller, an fine like corn-silk!" She paused in a strange 
 ecstacy of admiration. Nathan was too accustomed to her 
 to be greatly impressed by this flight; he had seen her crazed 
 in the same fashion over a nest of birds eggs, a pet calf, a 
 wild rose in bloom any one of a dozen headlong fancies. 
 The phrase is misleading; for, as Nathan came to recognize 
 in later years, not the least curious thing about Nance was 
 that she was steadfast in her wild devotion and clung heroic 
 ally to her idols. 
 
 "Well, if I m ever to see Mis Ducey, I d better be gittin 
 
12 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 along I think," he said, and fell back a step or two into the 
 road. "Good-by, Nance. Tell yer pap I stopped in to 
 tell him thanky , will you ? " 
 
 "Pap didn t do nothin ," repeated the girl, " cepn jest 
 say he knowed a good stiddy boy that could shoot er ketch 
 fish ekal to himself, and - 
 
 " No ! Did he say that ? " said Nathan, pleased. 1 hen he 
 grinned. "I dunno as that s jest what Ducey wants/ he 
 remarked ; "but Jake done what he could fer me, anyhow." 
 
 He swung into the road; and Nance returned to her chick 
 en-feeding, and the other housewifely duties that somehow 
 suited her so ill, although she performed them briskly and 
 capably enough. Where his path crossed the next bit of 
 rising ground, Nathan looked back and caught the flicker of 
 her red calico gown glancing like a flame about the dark in 
 terior of the cabin. 
 
CHAPTER II 
 
 IN WHICH MR. BURKE S PEDIGREE COMES UNDER 
 DISCUSSION 
 
 WHEN the city of Monterey fell to the American arms in 
 September of 1846, and General Ampudia marched out, there 
 was found among the sick and disabled left behind (according 
 to the Mexican habit) an Irish officer of Torrejon s staff, who 
 had been wounded by a musket-ball in the thigh while assist 
 ing with the most signal courage and resolution in the 
 defence of the redoubt they called Rincon del Diablo, on the 
 second day of the fighting. That he was of an alien race 
 need surprise nobody, for his country has sent just such sol 
 diers of fortune, brave, able, shiftless, and light-hearted, 
 to every army on the face of the globe. This gentleman s 
 name was Bourke, and he happened to be taken up and cared 
 for by an officer of one of the United States volunteer regi 
 ments for whom he subsequently professed and without 
 doubt sincerely felt at the time the warmest gratitude and 
 affection. "We arre we must be related, an the ties 
 of blood arre sthrong, me bye," he would say touchingly 
 indeed with tears in his eyes after the third or fourth tum 
 bler of that raw brandy of the country which the sutlers some 
 how found means, against the severest penalties, to smuggle 
 into camp; "ye were dthrawn to me at wance, an me to you. 
 To be sure, I d as soon have expicted to meet an Irishman 
 named Abednego as wan named Nathan, but ye were doubt 
 less christened from the other side of the house." And on 
 the strength of this kinship, he borrowed Captain Burke s 
 money, wore his clothes, rode his horse, and made himself 
 free of his quarters in a style which the captain would 
 scarcely have looked for from an own brother. If this 
 authority was to be believed, the Bourke or Burke family 
 made their appearance on this planet some time prior to 
 Adam and Eve, Nathan s immediate ancestors came to Amer- 
 
 13 
 
14 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 ica with Christopher Columbus "and bedad, Nat, your 
 forefathers were kings in Connaught whin Prisident Folk s 
 were swingin be their tails!" To which Captain Burke 
 replied rather dryly that as between swinging by the tail and 
 swinging by the neck, he was quite certain which he should 
 choose; but that the Burkes of antiquity might have swung 
 by both ends for aught he knew, being ignorant even of their 
 names. Of recent years, Nathan, recalling the conversa 
 tion, has wondered once or twice where this exile of Erin got 
 his Darwinian figure of speech, as the theory was not gener 
 ally familiar in that day; but it is too late to ask him now. 
 After the exchange of prisoners he disappeared from Burke s 
 horizon, and when last heard of, had taken service with the 
 Khedive; he may be a dey, a bey, a pasha of ever so many 
 tails by this time. 
 
 Mr. Burke never gave a thought to following up that 
 shadowy relationship, nor felt much desire to investigate the 
 family-tree, which, judging by this and sundry other speci 
 mens of what it bears, must be a somewhat decayed and 
 tottering old vegetable at the present date. For a good 
 many years of his life until, in fact, he was a man grown 
 and certain events had caused the matter of birth and de 
 scent to assume larger proportions in his view Nathan 
 knew only that his father s name was John Burke, his moth 
 er s, Mary Granger; the responsibility of a family reputation 
 was one which he never had to support, for no boy was ever 
 more alone in the world. Mary Burke died the day after 
 her only child was born; the father was drowned while spear 
 ing fish through the ice on the Scioto River when Nathan was 
 a bare two years old. Like everybody else in the settlement, 
 they came from somewhere in the older States Pennsyl 
 vania Virginia nobody could say with certainty; the 
 pioneers, unless they chanced to have migrated from the same 
 place, seldom knew much about one another s antecedents, 
 and had no leisure to inquire. Nathan could remember 
 neither of these parents, nor any home except that of Liph 
 Williams, who had added the fatherless and motherless child 
 to his own already numerous brood, from no affection nor 
 sense of duty, for Nathan had not the least claim upon him, 
 but out of that abounding rough charity and generosity 
 characteristic of his class. The Williamses were poor, hard- 
 
MR. BURKE S PEDIGREE 15 
 
 working people, but they took Nat in, fed him, clothed him, 
 nursed him through half a dozen childish ailments, did their 
 simple best for him without ever asking or expecting recom 
 pense. The thing is not unusual; it happens every day. 
 Poor Tom dies and poorer Dick promptly takes up the burden 
 of Tom s widow and children; lame Harry stumbles into the 
 ditch, and some ragged Samaritan hauls him out; yonder 
 beggar shares his crust with somebody, if it be only a dog, and 
 gnaws with a greater relish for having done so. Let the 
 cynics who refuse to see aught of admirable or touching in 
 the spectacle of humanity so great, so little, so mean, so noble, 
 so infinitely laughable and pathetic, let them listen to one 
 man at least who has found the world the best and kindest 
 of places, and met with a thousand good turns for one 
 evil. 
 
 So now the truth is out, and we are come at last to that 
 proper beginning of an autobiography I promised on the first 
 page. I think too highly of Nathan Burke s descendants to 
 suppose for a moment that they could be ashamed of the dis 
 covery that their grandfather at the outset of his career was 
 a coarse country boy, barely able to count, not over-familiar 
 with the spelling-book, wholly ignorant of what we call 
 manners, the small courtesies of which we profess to make so 
 little, yet which we, in our hearts, respect so much. But the 
 feeling with which I myself look back upon those years is, I 
 fear, not untinged with shame. I had as lief have begun life 
 with a more elaborate equipment, and often think: to what 
 heights had I not climbed, could I have had a better start! 
 It is a feebleness I share with many, weak and strong. There 
 was a wise Frenchman who once said: "I do not know what 
 the heart of a rascal may be. I know what the heart of an 
 honest man is; it is horrible." I humbly trust mine is not 
 so; yet I know that of myself which I should shrink and 
 wither up at the mere notion of confessing to any one. Yes, I 
 have waked at night, and cringed among the bedclothes, and 
 blushed in the darkness, and tossed my respectable old gray 
 head upon the pillow at the recollection of those moments of 
 weakness, those sneaking faults and follies. Is there a man 
 on earth who has not done the like ? If I ask my children to 
 spare me the recital of these things, I do not ask them to 
 believe me perfect. In the autobiographies of fiction 
 
16 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 to say nothing of some real ones l they get enough of dreary 
 virtuous twaddle from the hero, enough of preposterous sham 
 unconsciousness to stale their taste for perfection, it seems to 
 me. Let us have an end of all the mouthing and attitudiniz 
 ing; the best of us can be no better than a plain man that 
 tries to do his duty. There was a fashion now, happily, 
 on the wane of writing about our American deeds and men 
 as if both were not only above censure but almost too high 
 for praise. All our orators were Demosthenes all our law 
 givers Solon all our generals Napoleon. I remember 
 somebody published about the year 55 a short account of 
 Mr. Folk s administration, containing the following sketch of 
 General Worth, whom I knew slightly in Mexico. My friend, 
 James Sharpless, having come upon it in the course of his 
 reviewing for the Daily Neivs, brought it to me, acridly smil 
 ing, with pencillings about the paragraph, marking it down 
 for slaughter: "He possessed the ardor and impetuosity of 
 Murat, the bravery and inflexible determination of Ney, the 
 ability and judgment of Massena, and the bearing and frank 
 ness of Macdonald." " Murat, Ney, Massena, Macdonald! 
 Whew!!!" Jim wrote underneath it. Worth himself al 
 ready abode in decent silence under the monument in Madi 
 son Square with " Honor the brave" above his gallant old 
 bones; he would have been the first to laugh at that Whew of 
 Jimmie s, I think. What did the fluent author of that gust 
 of rhetoric know of Murat or Ney ? Nothing at all; this 
 braying and bragging was in the taste of the day, and all 
 of us did not approve of it, we still had to stand it. The 
 habit of fustian was something worse than comical or con 
 temptible ; it wrought an actual harm, as I have found out 
 since entering upon this task. There have been whole shelves, 
 whole libraries of histories and biographies of those times 
 written, not one word of which, I swear, is free from suspi 
 cion; pages of clap-trap sentiment, tin-foil eloquence, cheap, 
 glittering bombast, alternate with pages of misstatements and 
 inaccuracies. An honest man burns with shame at the read 
 ing. Twiggs was the Hero of This, Pierce was the Hero of 
 
 1 In the margin Burke has written : " Just finished reading Win- 
 field Scott s autobiog. All bosh. And some of it d d lies!" He 
 
 had an extraordinary and entirely unjust prejudice against General 
 Scott; the journal shows it repeatedly. M. S. W. 
 
MR. BURKE S PEDIGREE 17 
 
 That, your humble servant, very likely, was the Hero of 
 T other. As if any one of us did more than his position and 
 his own self-respect called upon him to do, or was one whit 
 more heroic than the plainest private in his regiment ! My 
 classic learning is too scanty to assure me if the Muse of His 
 tory is represented with a trumpet; but if so, the lady had 
 better exchange it for a pair of spectacles, to my notion. 
 Burke s children, at least, shall not be left to read this windy 
 rubbish and imagine it reflects what either the American 
 people at large, or the hard, brave, simple men I knew, 
 thought and believed. 
 
 Were it not, indeed, for the opinions expressed with some 
 what of volcanic warmth in that last paragraph, I am un 
 certain that I should have undertaken so solemn a business 
 as this writing at all. My grandson, and much I doubt 
 whether he will ever weary through his grandfather s auto 
 biography ! being a brisk youngster of six or thereabouts, 
 has been enjoined not to make a noise when he observes me 
 to be busied with the pen. The prohibition is more severe 
 upon me than him, for whereas he frequently forgets it alto 
 gether, I have it constantly in mind that I am playing the 
 ungracious part of a grandfatherly bogie, especially made for 
 the blighting of little boys. He sometimes inquires with an 
 appearance of interest which by no means deceives me, how 
 long it will be before the " story" is finished, and if it tells 
 about when I was only as big as he, and did I kill Indians 
 when I was "in the woods"? This fulfils his ideal of a 
 career and a hero, and I grieve both to disappoint him and to 
 lose prestige in his eyes. But, sad to say, the Indians were 
 all dead and gone in that part of the world before my day, 
 though they were active and virulent enough elsewhere 
 farther west and in the south ; and there will be no tomahawk 
 ing, nor warwhooping to enliven the page. The Nat Burke 
 I knew when he was our little Nat s age slept safe and sound 
 and removed from all danger of losing his young scalp in the 
 loft over the Williamses cabin, with three or four of the Wil 
 liams lads for bedfellows. He wore Liph s old pantaloons cut 
 down to suit his own small shanks; he got up at dawn and 
 went to bed with the chickens; he greatly delighted in corn- 
 meal mush fried in cakes and eaten with maple-syrup. He 
 trudged three miles to the district school when there was 
 
18 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 a teacher and three miles back; and I am afraid did not 
 profit to a high degree by these intermittent journeys to the 
 fountain-head of learning. He esteemed much the privilege 
 of going hunting with Jake Darnell and, in fact, it was a 
 privilege and a lesson in the antique and noble art of the 
 woodsman which Jake did not accord to every boy. Many 
 people would have considered that profane and drunken old 
 Nimrod not the choicest associate in the world for a growing 
 child; but, even in the worst sodden stages of his favorite 
 vice, where, alas, Nathan saw him often enough, I cannot 
 think his company harmed the lad. The breath of the 
 backwoods is pure; there was, when all was said, something 
 fine and clean and becoming to a man in the primitive ways 
 by which Darnell got his living. And if his example did not 
 teach Nathan industry and self-control, I ask you, in fair 
 ness, is there any example that does teach them ? The seed 
 may, perhaps, be sown, but you and I must be the gardeners. 
 Jake had known Nat s father and mother; he had for Nat 
 himself one of those unaccountable fancies, fanatically enthu 
 siastic, yet steady and enduring, to which his daughter Nance 
 was so prone; he was as pleased the day Nat shot his first wild 
 turkey, and as absurdly proud of that feat, as the boy himself. 
 According to his simple views he predicted great things for 
 his young companion. "I ll make a scout of ye," he used to 
 say in moments of elation; "ye got jest th eye fer it, Na 
 than, jest th eye, an th nerve. Tain t jest grit fer fightin , 
 I mean any fool s got that; its patience, an it s th 
 know-how, an th know-when them s what counts. Cou- 
 reur de bois, that s what they call em up north-a-way, up to 
 th Lakes. I been there. That s French, what I said jest 
 now; I kin talk it, y know. Ye got to an talk Injun too 
 two-three kinds of Injun talk if you re scoutin . Yes 
 oh, Lord, yes, I been there. Ever tell ye bout Fort Meigs ? 
 Ever tell ye bout Fort Stephenson ? It s twenty year this 
 summer. Th Gin ral Gin ral Harrison sent me down 
 th Sandusky River with a letter to Major Croghan that was 
 commanding at Fort Stephenson twan t nothin but a 
 foot er two o dirt bank, an a stockade with th poles wide 
 nough part fer to stick th bar l of yer rifle through ! I went 
 down in a canoe with two other men, one of em was a half- 
 breed we called Long Joe 
 
MR. BURKE S PEDIGREE 19 
 
 " Was they Injuns in th road ?" interrupts his eager audi 
 ence. 
 
 " Injuns ? God! Yes, woods bilin with em. That half- 
 breed I was tellin ye about, they got him shot him an 
 sculped him. That s Injun way, ye know. I ain t ever held 
 it up agin em. Injuns is Injuns. I ve seen plenty white 
 men wan t any whiter actin than Tecumthe I knew him 
 well. An as fer taking sculps, th Injuns ain t th only ones 
 
 th British useter give a bounty fer em those days. After 
 they killed Joe, like I told ye, th other man I plumb fergit 
 his name and I, we kep on. He wa^i t hurt, but he was 
 took kinder silly with th heat er sumthin - - twas hotter n 
 hell, long bout th first week in July. I ric lect how he went 
 along singin an laffin - - twas all I c ld do to keep him at 
 th paddle. An me squattin in th stern with th rifle. Th 
 river was low, like it gits in a hot spell, an oncet or twicet we 
 hed to git out fer a kinder portage where they was these little 
 muddy islands an him a-laffin an a-singin th hull 
 time ! I swanny that was th longest fifteen mile I ever made 
 in my time; peared like I d orter been gray-headed an 
 toothless time we git to th eend of it ! An when we got to 
 th fort an giv th letter to Croghan, what d ye s pose it 
 said ? Why, fer him to light right out quit retreat up 
 th river as quick s he c ld, count o Proctor bein in front of 
 him with th British troops twas th Forty-first Rig ment, 
 I remember an two thousand Injuns on his flank. Two 
 thousan , that s what I d jest come through, mind you. I 
 ain t much on figgers, but take m oath they wan t any two 
 thousand of em. God! I never give a red fer William 
 Henry Harrison from that day to this. Any man that d 
 fit with Injuns half his nat ral life had orter have knowed ye 
 can t git any two thousand redskins together an keep em 
 together not even Tecumthe couldn t do it, ner Brandt 
 ner Red Jacket ner any of their own kind, let alone any white 
 man. You d orter seen Croghan when he read th letter. I 
 went in to where he was settin in his shirt and breeches 
 twas sweatin hot, like I told you. I dunno why we always 
 called Croghan little, less n twas becuz he was such a 
 young feller. He wan t much over twenty jest a boy 
 jest a big tall lanky boy like they breed em down in Kaintuck 
 
 that s where he come from. You tell th gin ral I m 
 
20 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 here, an by God, here I stay! he said to me. Lord! I 
 remember like it was yesterday. They was a Inj un woman 
 a right good-lookin young squaw settin in th corner o 
 th cabin plattin a basket. Thar she sot an platted, like a 
 stone image, an never even looked up at Croghan swearin 
 an damnin an stridin up an down, bitin his finger-nails." 
 
 "An did he sure nough stay ?" asks the boy, with shining 
 eyes. 
 
 "Oh, yes, he stayed yes, little Georgie stayed. They 
 was bout a hundred an thirty of us at th last in th 
 fight, I mean, when .Proctor sent up th Forty-first agin us. 
 They was more men n that inside th stockade, but mostly 
 sick fever n ager so s they couldn t fight. Some of 
 em did, anyhow. I ric lect I was chillin myself regular, but, 
 by criminy, th fight come on my off day! " He chuckled at 
 this as if it had been the finest joke in the world. "How d 
 th fight begin ? Why, it begun like this : th British gin ral 
 hed a man what they call a non-commissioned orficer, 
 y know to come up to th fort under a white flag, with two- 
 three Injuns an some soldiers with him, an he giv a letter to 
 Croghan with Come out from behind yer little Tom-fool 
 breastworks, er I ll blow ye to kingdom come, in it not 
 jest them words, but put kinder civil-like, ye unnerstan . 
 An Major Croghan he sent back word: Blow an be 
 damn, then! That was all th way it begun. Twas 
 kinder like what they say bout a short horse soon curried. 
 An what we done to em, Nat, what we done to em ! 
 That fool Britisher hadn t no better sense n to march his 
 men in three columns right up agin th stockade. They 
 come right up, right up agin our rifles they come braver 
 men I never see. I swanny, twas a shame ! " He would fall 
 silent, with his strong old yellow fangs clenched on the pipe- 
 stem as they sat by the fire glimmering under the lee of a log 
 in some twilight nook of woods. "Did you kill any of em, 
 Jake?" the boy would ask him. To which he sometimes 
 made answer with an unwonted diffidence or indirection that 
 powder n shot come pretty durn high them days, an ye 
 couldn t afford to waste none. "But did ye ever kill a man 
 fer certain sure, an see him fall ? " Nat persisted. But though 
 it was hardly possible to doubt that in the trade of war Jake 
 had slain men, from some obscure reason it may well have 
 
MR. BURKE S PEDIGREE 21 
 
 been a sort of tribute in its way to the other s youth and to 
 his own dim notions of what was decent and humane he 
 would never acknowledge it in plain words. " I reckon ye ve 
 seen me aim at squirrels an such, ain t ye ?" he once said 
 after Nathan had pressed him pretty close about the battle 
 of the River Raisin; "yes, you ve seen me aim plenty times, 
 I guess. Ever see me miss?" "No," said the youngster, 
 puzzled. "Well, I aimed." 
 
 Even at his drunkest he was still thus uncommunicative; 
 being, in fact, one of those obdurate topers who grow more 
 and more silent as the bottle lowers. He never drank while 
 actually in the pursuit of game, when he was capable of going 
 twenty-four hours, perhaps longer, without food or even 
 water; nor did he ever offer Nat a sip, or allow him to carry 
 the flask. Nathan used to go to sleep curled up under the 
 ragged and foul old army-blanket that served them for bed 
 on these expeditions, leaving Darnell sitting cross-legged by 
 the fire, smoking and musing, with the bottle between his 
 knees, and the light playing redly over his hard, weather- 
 beaten features and high coonskin cap. And anon, the boy, 
 who was an alert sleeper, would start from his dreams just 
 in time to grab Jake away from the bed of coals, where he 
 seemed to have an ingrained propensity to tumble the mo 
 ment the last drop was drained. He never objected to 
 Nathan s rude ministrations, or became either hilarious or 
 maudlin or violent; the liquor affected him (I have since 
 thought) much as opium might, reducing him to a kind of 
 pleasant torpor. Once in a rare moment of confidence, for 
 he was not much given to talking directly about himself, 
 he told the boy that he had "beautiful dreams" when he 
 was drunk " beautiful, " he repeated with a vague look and 
 gesture. Heaven knows what they could have been, poor 
 old Jake ! Perhaps, after all, the mutual responsibility of 
 their companionship was good for the man, and not entirely 
 harmful for the boy. 
 
 As I remember him, however, Nat came very early to a 
 sense of responsibilities and obligations. It would be im 
 possible to say at what age it was borne in upon him that he 
 was living upon the bounty of strangers, beholden to their 
 good-will for the bite he ate, the clothes on his back, the roof 
 over his head. When I look back now, it seems as if he must 
 
22 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 have been born with that knowledge and with the determi 
 nation to even the score. Yet I know that he was merely an 
 ordinarily bright lad of an industrious and conscientious dis 
 position; there were thousands like Nathan Burke growing 
 up all over the country. If he hoed the garden and milked 
 the cows and lent a hand to hanging out Mrs. Williams s wash 
 a trifle more willingly and consistently than the other boys, 
 it must have been due, first of all, to some innate distaste for 
 idleness and only in secondary degree to that desire to be 
 " worth his keep" at which I have hinted. Liph and his 
 wife were too good-hearted to thrust his dependence in his 
 face; they were assuredly not conscious of making any differ 
 ence between him and their own children; and Nat himself 
 was not at all quicker or cleverer or better-looking than Liph 
 junior or any of the rest. He did, indeed, display more 
 aptitude for learning; but that was the result of a sort of 
 abstract talent for application. He had a fancy for slogging 
 away until the task was done, the thing, whatever it might 
 be, accomplished; and, being set to get his letters out of an 
 old almanac, got them with proportionate time and trouble, 
 exactly as he would have achieved his stent at wood-chop 
 ping or what-not, undeterred by any desire to go fishing or 
 berry-picking. With the almanac his literary labors may 
 almost be said to have begun and ended; it came with cer 
 tain bottles of a patent medicine, by name " Vaughn s Vege 
 table Lithontriptic Mixture." This remedy was a mighty 
 favorite in its day, curing everything from chilblains to 
 cholera according to the universal habit of patent medi 
 cines. There never lacked a bottle on the chimney-piece; 
 and to this day Mr. Burke observes a greater grace and skill 
 in his capital V*8 than he can command in the making of any 
 other letter. 
 
 All these details lack singularly in dash and color. A man 
 who was born and brought up in a log-cabin sixty years ago 
 should, in conscience, have learned to read out of the Bible, 
 and studied lying on the floor winter nights, by the aid of a 
 flaming pine knot. But there was no pine in the country; 
 and although the Williamses possessed a Bible, Nathan, dread 
 ful to confess, never felt the slightest curiosity to open one 
 until years later! His limited acquaintance with Webster s 
 spelling-book and Vaughn satisfied him. And up to the 
 
MR. BURKE S PEDIGREE 23 
 
 spring day when Jake Darnell stopped Liph on the homeward 
 road to tell him that he had got the place with Duceys for 
 Nat on trial, nothing noteworthy had happened in the boy s 
 whole life. Once on a three days trip with Jake he had shot 
 a deer; once he fished the Williams baby (the baby of the 
 hour; there was a fresh one at regular intervals), a two-year- 
 old girl, out of a pool of the Scioto, where she had fallen over 
 her head, and carried her bawling to her mother a feat 
 for which he received a deal of unmerited gratitude and ap 
 plause. And once he fell from the hay-loft and dislocated 
 his shoulder. This last was a real event; Liph was called 
 in from the fields to saddle one of the lumbering old plough- 
 horses and journey in town, post-haste, for the doctor. He 
 returned, not with the doctor, but instead with a long, gawky, 
 big-nosed, young medical student who bandaged up the in 
 jured member after putting it in place with a dexterity and 
 gentleness far surpassing that of any woman, so that for days 
 and months afterwards Nathan remembered the very look 
 and touch of his lean, clean, strong, steady hands. He dosed 
 the family all around for chills and fever, laughed at the 
 Lithontriptic Mixture, and told Mrs. Williams to throw it in 
 the fire and so took his departure much as he had come, 
 like a gust of fresh air on a dull day. Nathan worked all 
 summer helping Tim Pascoe build his dam to get the money 
 wherewith to pay Liph; although, to be sure, the bill had 
 not been large, but neither were a boy s wages in those days. 
 To do him justice Williams took it with reluctance, even 
 remonstrating with the lad: "Lord, I ain t needin it I 
 ain t doggin ye fer it, Nat," he said kindly. " Twas doin 
 my work ye hurt yerself, anyhow." 
 
 "I want to pay it," said Nathan, stubborn and brief- 
 spoken as usual. 
 
 He and Pascoe did not erect a monument more lasting than 
 brass in that forlorn old dam; it was little more than a ridge 
 of boulders and logs piled up across the river, constantly 
 giving away with a devastating rush of water, and so low as 
 to be quite beneath the surface during the spring freshets. 
 It sufficed the Pascoes, who were a shiftless, improvident, 
 happy-go-easy lot yet I should speak more gently of them, 
 for they are all dead this long while; and they were Nat 
 Burke s friends; and, in fact, it was Tim Pascoe himself who 
 
24 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 took Nathan up and brought him into town in his wagon the 
 last five miles of the journey, and set him down, finally, at 
 Mr. William Ducey s gate. 
 
 NOTE. Mr. James Sharpless, referred to in this chapter, died in 
 1906. He was at one time very prominent in his profession, and was 
 the author of two books: "With the Argonauts; Studies and 
 Sketches," Bayard Bros., San Francisco, 1875; and "Recollections 
 of a Veteran Journalist," 2 vols., Sanford, Megrue & Co., Columbus, 
 Ohio, 1886. 
 
 I went to see the old gentleman, in connection with this work, a 
 little while before his death, and found him quite sprightly still, 
 though much enfeebled in body at the advanced age of eighty-four 
 years. He was very willing to talk about the general, of whom he 
 spoke not at all sentimentally, but with the beautiful and touching 
 affection which exists, it would seem, only between men. "Burke 
 could have had any public office in this State, if he had chosen to go 
 after it," he said to me; "but he always scouted the notion, and he 
 used to tell me with a laugh that he was no orator as Brutus was 
 meaning me, Madame. He didn t like public speaking, you know; 
 and he never had the slightest conception of his own personal popu 
 larity. Why, I remember there was a man here in town named 
 Carrington a hardware merchant, a very good sort of fellow 
 who looked something like Nathan and was often taken for him 
 which, I have no doubt, Carrington rather liked. But Nat remarked 
 to me that it must be very annoying to Carrington to be continually- 
 spoken to for himself and, says he, perfectly simple and seri 
 ous, it s the most extraordinary thing, Jim, but nobody ever takes 
 me for Carrington !" M. S. W. 
 
CHAPTER III 
 CHILDE ROLAND TO THE DARK TOWER CAME 
 
 THE Ducey house, like all the other city houses in Nathan s 
 limited experience, seemed to him a prodigiously handsome 
 and imposing edifice. It was brick; it was two stories high, 
 with windows glittering in regular tiers of three across the 
 front, and a front door with a fan-light above it and slips of 
 glass along the sides, and a porch, and a flight of stone steps 
 and a brass door-knob; it was set back in an ample yard of 
 trees, flower-beds, and the beautiful blue-grass turf, well- 
 nigh an extinct growth with us now, so common then that 
 Nat, who perhaps did not possess much of an eye for natural 
 beauties, scarcely noticed it. The approach was by a straight, 
 brick-paved walk, where he was fated to spend more than one 
 hot, toilsome hour, gouging out the weeds that sprouted peri 
 odically between every brick. Had he known it, the prospect 
 would not have discouraged him; he never feared work; but 
 it was with a good deal of inward tremor, proceeding mostly 
 from anxiety as to whether he was going to "suit, " that he 
 went skreeking up the walk in his unaccustomed boots, and 
 so around to the back door, following a hint of Pascoe s. 
 "Th help always comes in an goes out that way," this sage 
 had warned him; "th front door s for folks, ye know." At 
 the rear his heart was unexpectedly gladdened by the familiar 
 spectacle of a wash-bench, milk-crocks sunning, the woodshed, 
 and the grindstone. He beheld the features of his prospec 
 tive kingdom; here was the stable, here a little garden-patch 
 behind neat white palings; there was a carriage-house, and 
 chicken-coops. None of this, perhaps, was pretty, but there 
 was a homely grace of thrift, cleanliness, and order about the 
 place that at once pleased and awed him. The boy felt a 
 kind of dutiful eagerness to keep it all in that condition and 
 better ; he d show them if they gave him the chance ! All the 
 
 25 
 
26 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 city yards, he had noticed as they came along, were kept 
 thus tidy; the difference between them and the unlovely 
 disorder a disorder which sometimes had not even the 
 excuse of being convenient of the Williamses surroundings 
 had caught his eye. This, then, was the way in which city- 
 folks liked things kept; very good, give him a chance and 
 he d show them ! The capital city of our State was not a 
 large one in the early thirties ; and Nathan did not suffer - 
 as youth is poetically supposed to in the transition to 
 bricks and mortar from the wide, grave, silent spaces of his 
 backwoods. Truth to tell, there was no such preponderance 
 of the bricks and mortar; it was a pleasant little town, 
 characterless and immature as most other middle western 
 towns of its era; and doubtless there were double files of 
 trees along the streets, and wide yards; and comfortable 
 homes like that of the William Duceys, with tumbledown 
 shanties next door. Perhaps the new Penitentiary loomed 
 grimly on the confines where Nathan had entered; and it 
 may be they were just laying the foundations of the Capitol, 
 and tall derricks straddled above the recumbent stones in 
 the square bounded by State and Broad streets, the square 
 whereon the Ducey windows looked and met the morning 
 sun. But so naively self-absorbed is youth, so strangely 
 unobservant of its environment, so pathetically expectant of 
 the eternal To-morrow, and oblivious of the eternal To-day, 
 that when I sit down and straightly endeavor to call up a pic 
 ture of the first city I ever knew, I find myself groping in a fog 
 of formless memories. When people say to me, "Why, you 
 recollect all about such a time or place you were a boy 
 then," I think within me, Good God, and what has become of 
 that boy ? He is dead gone and irretrievable, along with 
 those departed days. Challenge his memory, indeed! It is 
 only with a strain and painful effort that I put aside the cur 
 tain of the years and call to him. 
 
 Nathan marched up to the back door and knocked; and 
 was presently opened to by a comely, fresh-cheeked Irish 
 girl, who started back with a truly Hibernian screech of 
 mingled consternation and pleasurable excitement at view 
 of this long-legged and shock-haired Corydon, gun in hand. 
 
 "It ain t loaded," Nathan assured her, detecting her 
 affrighted glance; another woman, a fleshier and somewhat 
 
CHILDE ROLAND TO THE DARK TOWER CAME 27 
 
 older duplicate of the first, seated at the table hard by, 
 joined in the flurry of giggles and broken ejaculations to all 
 the saints. And Nat, seeing that his statement had pro 
 duced no effect, walked in without further ceremony, an 
 nouncing succinctly: "I ve come to see about th place for 
 doin chores. My name s Burke." 
 
 This covered the whole ground, and had the odd result of 
 quieting and silencing the feminine uproar immediately, 
 although Nathan had said it in no such intention; he merely 
 wanted to make clear his position at once. The two women 
 stared at him, and he faced them tranquilly. "Tell Mr. 
 Ducey I m here, ma am, will you ?" he said, addressing the 
 nearest, straightforwardly. He had already decided in 
 wardly that neither of these could be Nance s Mrs. Ducey - 
 and whoever or whatever else they were he conceived to be 
 no business of his. They exchanged a glance and wink; 
 then both reddened and began to clatter confusedly amongst 
 the dishes, as they saw that Nat had observed it. The boy s 
 eye, quick and steady by nature, embraced without conscious 
 effort every smallest detail of the place and people; Darnell 
 had not been far wrong in his estimate of Nathan s rather 
 Indian gifts. He stood before the cook and housemaid, 
 unembarrassed, in a boy s cool detachment from the world of 
 women and their incomprehensible ways. The girl who had 
 opened the door jumped up and ran into the farther house 
 upon his errand; and after a moment the cook remarked 
 affably : 
 
 "Ye re from the counthry?" 
 
 "Yes, "said Nat. 
 
 " Ye ve niver been in town befure, I dinnaw ?" 
 
 "Once." 
 
 "It s yersilf that can shoot wid that gun, now, ain t it?" 
 she said ingratiatingly. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 She set about her work, with an expression of baffled and 
 a little puzzled amusement. It was a rout, something simi 
 lar to that of the British charge at Fort Stephenson. Yet 
 Nat had no desire to show himself either surly or uncommuni 
 cative; it never occurred to him to expand his answers to her 
 questions, or to ask any in his turn. . He waited patiently; 
 and, an entry-door swinging ajar, he heard voices in the ad- 
 
28 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 jacent room. There was a child s voice, a man s heavier 
 grumble, and one not loud nor high, but of an extraordinary 
 carrying quality, a peculiar distinctness in its unsubdued, yet 
 sweet, vibrations. 
 
 "It s the new boy about the place, William. William, 
 why don t you answer ? It s the new boy I saw him go 
 past the window he had a gun a gun of all things ! No, 
 Georgie, you can t go and see him no you can see the 
 gun some other time Georgie, I said no ! He looked dirty 
 - isn t he dirty, Norah ? You don t know ? Well, mercy, I 
 don t suppose you do know; they don t seem to know the 
 difference between being clean and dirty in Ireland, anyhow. 
 I don t want you to go near him, Georgie you don t want 
 to touch a dirty boy like that, do you ? What s that, Wil 
 liam ? Oh, pshaw, he can t hear me and besides he is 
 dirty, Will I just caught a glimpse of him and I know he s 
 dirty all those country people that come in the store are. 
 I don t want the children to go near him maybe there re 
 things in his hair he seemed to have very thick hair, and 
 I don t believe it s ever been washed 
 
 The cook closed the door hastily, with a quick conscious 
 glance at Nathan. It opened, however, almost immediately, 
 with a species of delicate bustle, a light, gracious hurly-burly 
 which Nathan grew in time to recognize as the invariable 
 accompaniment of all Mrs. Ducey s actions. She stood on 
 the threshold, and the boy eyed her with an unmoved coun 
 tenance as he has since been told, but in reality stirred to his 
 depths by a wondering, delighted, even reverent admiration. 
 He understood at a stroke all Nance s rhapsody; he had not 
 dreamed there could exist on this dull earth a loveliness so 
 splendid and compelling, although he could not then nor 
 now set down in terms its changeful and evasive bright 
 ness. He did not know whether Mrs. Ducey s features were 
 regular or no, her eyes gray or hazel it did not matter. She 
 seemed taller than most women ; her movements of an incom 
 parable grace, buoyancy, and vigor springing from abound 
 ing good health, good spirits, good nature. She dominated 
 the little company; clothes and setting surrendered to her; 
 the fresh morning-gown she wore was, I dare say, only a 
 cotton print, but it flowed about her in folds of an antique 
 nobility; her clear eyes, her brilliant hair, the very glow in 
 
CHILDE ROLAND TO THE DARK TOWER CAME 29 
 
 her cheeks irradiated the kitchen, and she looked upon us 
 from her heights like a star. 
 
 "Is that the boy are you the boy? Oh, mercy, that 
 gun s dangerous didn t you know any better than to bring 
 a gun ? You can t go hunting here, you know, there s noth 
 ing to hunt take that gun away take it outdoors " 
 
 "It ain t loaded, ma am," said Nathan, while the two 
 handmaids looked on with covert grins. "It can t hurt 
 anybody." 
 
 "Hm!" Mrs. Ducey gave an indescribable little musical 
 grunt, and went on as if he had not spoken. " Take that gun 
 away it s dangerous I won t have any guns around the 
 house " ske raised her sweet voice in an accent of uncon 
 trolled terror. "Come away from that gun, Georgie 
 don t go near it come away it might go off and kill 
 you " 
 
 "Aw, he said it wasn t loaded, ma; it can t hurt me," said 
 Georgie, fingering the bright barrel of the weapon curiously. 
 He was a sallow and plainly dyspeptic youngster of twelve or 
 so, with a large head and very large, soft, dark eyes, in which 
 there was an expression of appealing feebleness, reminding 
 Nathan vaguely of certain baby animals. 
 
 "Georgie, did you hear mother? Let the gun alone " 
 
 "Aw, Ma- 
 
 "Drop the gun, sonny!" said Nathan. 
 
 The boy dropped it promptly at this command, though he 
 had wholly disregarded his mother s. He edged over to her 
 side, hunching his shoulders peevishly, yet with a look of 
 fright, oddly out of proportion to the rebuke he had received 
 if rebuke it could be called, for Nat had spoken gently. 
 "You ve got awfully funny eyes kind of bright and shiny 
 like our carving-knife," he commented with agreeable free 
 dom. 
 
 "Georgie, hush, you mustn t say things like that about 
 people s looks, no matter how queer they are and besides 
 the boy has very nice eyes I m sure he has very nice eyes 
 indeed, hasn t he, William?" said Mrs. Ducey, with an in 
 tention so evidently and eagerly kind that Nathan, if he felt 
 some surprise at this candid appraisement, still could not 
 resent it. And, being in no sense a judge of manners or the 
 world, he accepted this frankly with the rest of his experi- 
 
30 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 ences. " George, come here to mother remember what I 
 told you - " said Mrs. Ducey, anxiously. She made sound 
 lessly with her lips the outlines of the words " don t touch 
 him" and supplemented the pantomime by gathering her 
 crisp skirts aside in illustration. George retreated obedi 
 ently. None of this escaped Nathan; he had never heard of 
 lepers at the time, or he might have felt like one; but he made 
 no such comparison, merely holding his ground, with the 
 color rising a little in his sun-browned face. And Mr. Ducey 
 following up his wife at that moment,the youth was too occu 
 pied with the first view of his future employer to spare much 
 attention elsewhere. He thought that Georgie looked rather 
 like his father, who was a man perhaps about thirty-five years 
 old, dark, tall, and slender, with the same appearance of 
 physical weakness, and the same big, sentimental eyes 
 sentimental not being at this time, however, a word in active 
 use in Nat s vocabulary; he would have put Mr. Ducey 
 down as being slightly sawney. He stood up straight, and 
 answered the other s questions with an instinctive concise 
 ness. He may have been a little self-conscious, knowing 
 that his measure was being taken, and very eager to "suit." 
 Yet if the Duceys, husband and wife, if little George yonder, 
 if the Irishwomen ostentatiously slopping about with their 
 mops and dishpans and sending him a furtive look from time 
 to time, if these were all taking his measure, so was Nathan 
 taking theirs and I have sometimes thought that there is 
 no tribunal so stern, so exacting and pitiless, as that of youth. 
 At fifteen we are as hard as flint, at fifty little better than 
 a miserable bog of compromises so does the whirligig of 
 time bring in its revenges! I do not say that Mr. Nat dis 
 played such preternatural acuteness as to gauge his new 
 employers upon a moment s acquaintance with ruthless 
 accuracy ; he was no marvel of precocity. In fact, he was not 
 conscious of seeking to understand and weigh them at all. I 
 cannot so much as tell when that inevitable process began; 
 but even the trivial details of this first meeting must have 
 counted for something in it, and the earliest impression never 
 quite wore away. 
 
 "He seems to be a willing boy but the worst looking," 
 said Mrs. Ducey in the entry, as the master and mistress of 
 the house concluded this momentous interview; "I don t 
 
CHILDE ROLAND TO THE DARK TOWER CAME 31 
 
 know how we can have him drive the carriage. You ll have 
 to give him some of your clothes, William; I mean the old 
 ones that you re going to throw away they ll be plenty 
 good enough for him. There s that suit I was going to give 
 to that old blind beggar that comes around they ll do 
 nicely for what s his name ? Nathan. He may look a 
 little better after he s cleaned up Oh, fiddle-de-dee, he 
 can t hear me; you re all the time s-h-h-ing me, Will. I 
 believe you don t like me to talk at all. What ? When you 
 mumble so low that way, I can t understand what you re 
 saying. Hurt what f Hurt the boy s feelings ? William, I 
 think it s very unkind of you to say that yes, I do it s 
 unkind. You know I never would hurt anybody s feelings. 
 Oh, now, you needn t come around me that way - " the rest 
 died off somewhere in the interior of the house. And, in a 
 few minutes, little George came running back to the kitchen. 
 
 "Ma says I m to take you out to the stable, and show you 
 where you re to sleep," he informed Nathan with a good deal 
 of importance. "I m going to carry your gun. I know all 
 about guns I can shoot first-rate, I 
 
 "Did your ma say you could ?" Nat asked him. The boy 
 looked him straight in the eye as he answered: "Yes of 
 course. She said for me to carry the gun she said 
 
 Nathan folded his arms, and surveyed the other from his 
 lank, slab-sided height, judicially. There was a momentary 
 silence in the kitchen; Bridget and Nora suspended their 
 rolling-pin and knife-board activities to watch and listen with 
 an unusual interest. 
 
 "I don t guess she said anything like that, Georgie," said 
 Nat, picking up the musket himself and moving towards the 
 door; "I kinder guess she said you weren t to go near it, 
 ain t that so?" he suggested pleasantly. 
 
 "Aw, she did too say I could carry it " 
 
 The cook and housemaid burst into strident laughter. 
 "That s the toime ye got come up with, Jarge," said the 
 former, wiping her eyes on her apron. Nathan did not laugh 
 himself, he only grinned a little as he followed his young guide 
 out-of-doors. The latter did not appear at all crestfallen or 
 shamefaced at the late exposure; his soft, pathetic eyes had 
 not even wavered. 
 
 "They haven t got any sense," he observed cheerfully to 
 
32 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 Nathan, with a backward shrug towards the kitchen; "and 
 Ma don t know anything, either. Say, lemme carry it, will 
 you ? It s yours, ain t it ? Say, lemme carry it." He laid 
 his small hands on the heavy rosewood stock of the weapon 
 and sought to wrest it from its owner. 
 
 " You d better mind yer mother fer oncet, seems to me," 
 said Nathan. " You don t want to worry her, do ye ? That 
 ain t no man s way to do. S posin she is kinder pernickety 
 bout th gun? That s th way wimmen is, I guess; they 
 can t help it. Ye don t want to worry em; tain t fair. 
 You re a man, y know." He shifted the gun to his shoulder 
 out of the boy s reach, struck and rather disagreeably 
 by his persistence. 
 
 "Aw, she don t know anything. It ain t loaded, and she s 
 scared just the same; she s just silly nough to be fraid of its 
 hurting me. Lemme carry it, will you?" 
 
 Nat went on silently, the boy dogging him with a kind of 
 feeble determination, not wholly childish; curiously femi 
 nine, in fact. "Ma d never know it, anyhow she ll never 
 find out!" 
 
 "Everything gits found out first er last, I reckon," said 
 Nathan, announcing, without knowing it, one of the great 
 est and most stable truths of life ; he was simply casting about 
 for some argument that would impress this unruly youngster. 
 George Ducey lacked only three years or so of Nat s own age, 
 but he seemed to the latter unconscionably babyish. Perhaps 
 the hard circumstances of backwoods life caused children to 
 mature earlier, but this boy, Nathan thought, was helpless 
 and backward in comparison with little Joe Williams, for in 
 stance. You could have trusted Joe, who was an honest, 
 sturdy, not too bright little fellow, almost anywhere, with 
 anything; he was no bad substitute for a man, with his round 
 freckled face, his brave blue eyes, his ragged pantaloons - 
 Nathan thought of him with a sudden warming of the 
 heart. But this small, frail, finicking creature, everlastingly 
 babbling ! For George was everlastingly babbling. When 
 he had finally yielded the point about the gun which Nat 
 sagaciously hung up on a pair of hooks well above his young 
 friend s head, over the bed in the little stable-loft room which 
 was to be his George, following him about, poured out a 
 stream, a fountain, a flood of talk, mostly concerning himself 
 
CHILDE ROLAND TO THE DARK TOWER CAME 33 
 
 in whom he was, as is not infrequently the case, very ingenu 
 ously interested. He would be thirteen his next birthday, 
 that would be in the fall, in November, the eleventh of No 
 vember. Everybody always gave him presents on his birth 
 day, everybody, the hired girls and all; his mother didn t like 
 it if they didn t give him presents; why, once she sent off 
 the hired man because he didn t give George a present. His 
 birthday was the eleventh of November not the tenth nor 
 the twelfth, but the eleventh. He guessed Uncle George 
 his Uncle George Marsh that he was named after he 
 guessed Uncle George would give him a gold watch. Uncle 
 George was ever so rich; he was the richest man in this town, 
 the richest man in the United States. When Georgie grew 
 up, he was going to be rich, too; he was going to be the richest 
 man in the world; he was going to marry a beautiful prin 
 cess; Ma said he was as handsome as a little prince: did 
 Nathan ever see a prince? The princes in fairy tales always 
 could do everything he could, too. There wasn t hardly 
 anything he couldn t do. He had the best marks of anybody 
 in school; they didn t like it, the other boys didn t, they 
 were jealous; he had to lick em; he could lick any boy in 
 school; he had licked em, the whole school 
 
 "My ! You ll git me kinder skeered of ye, if ye go on like 
 that," said Nat, soberly; " stand off a little further, ye might 
 git one of these here chips in yer eye they fly considerable 
 when I m choppin ." 
 
 "I wouldn t hurt you" said George, with condescension. 
 
 "Thanky kindly," said Nathan, governing his smile; he 
 might have spared the trouble, for George was as impervious 
 to satire as he was to reproof. And I may set it down here 
 for a contribution to the sum of human experience, that al 
 though I have met in my time many mighty performers with 
 the ancient English weapon, I never met one who had the 
 slightest sense of humor. 
 
 " They re all jealous of me, you know," George repeated in 
 explanation. "I m always head. Ma says she never saw 
 anything like the way I do my sums she says I ve got a 
 natural head for figures. I can add just like just like 
 just as quick. I never make mistakes, not even the hardest 
 sums that the rest of em can t do at all." 
 
 "That so? What s eighteen-thirty-five, V eighteen 
 
34 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 thirty-six, V eighteen-thirty-seven all put together, hey ? " 
 Nat inquired in the benevolent design of experimenting on 
 this wondrous balloon finding out if it were a possible thing 
 to prick and abase it. He paused to stand erect and wipe his 
 forehead on the sleeve of his shirt, and in the act caught sight 
 of a little girl with some books in a strap coming around the 
 corner of the house. 
 
 " Eighteen-thirty-fi ve and eighteen-thirty-six, said George, 
 elaborately, "why why that makes it makes " 
 
 "Blue lightning on the add, ain t ye ?" said Nat, returning 
 to his task; and, fortunately for George s reputation al 
 though, if I am not mistaken, it would have taken more than 
 this to cast him down the conversation was here interrupted 
 by the arrival of the little girl. She came hesitatingly toward 
 them along the walk which hereabouts was arched over with a 
 trellis whereon a grape-vine grew and twined ; the sun winked 
 overhead amongst swift, incessant April clouds, and a fan 
 tastic pattern of shadow from the woodwork netted with the 
 yet leafless vine played over her as she moved. It was the 
 fashion to dress little girls in those days exactly to resemble 
 their mothers and grown-up sisters, in a solemn propriety of 
 wide skirts and coal-scuttle headgear; extraordinarily meek- 
 appearing white embroidered pantalettes, white stockings, 
 and ankle-gaiters decorated the lower parts of them; they 
 wore the most amazing little mantles with fringes and bugles, 
 like so many small grandmothers. This child differed from 
 her elders only by a braid of brown hair almost as thick as 
 Nathan s wrist, trailing down her back; she was a grave, 
 inquiring, and rather homely young person. "Hello!" said 
 George, "you back? Is school out ? Did you miss any 
 times ? How many times did you miss ? " 
 
 "I didn t miss any," said the other, coming a little nearer 
 and surveying Nathan with shy curiosity. 
 
 "Huh don t believe it," said George, gallantly; "you 
 always miss." Nathan silently set the blade of the axe deep 
 in a knotted stick, and split the wood in halves. 
 
 "My, you re strong, ain t you ?" said the little girl, coming 
 nearer him. " I like strong people," she added after a moment, 
 in an explanatory tone. "What s your name ?" 
 
 "His name s Nathan," interposed George, in a manner so 
 closely duplicating Mrs. Ducey s that the effect was startling; 
 
CHILDE ROLAND TO THE DARK TOWER CAME 35 
 
 it some way conveyed the impression of entire personal dis 
 regard, as if the speaker were alluding to a post, a pet animal, 
 some characterless and scarcely sentient creature. "Ma 
 says you re not to touch him he s dirty." 
 
 " You better stand out n th way, er I might nip ye with th 
 axe," said Nathan, more gruffly than was natural to him. 
 And at once being a kindly lad felt a twinge of self- 
 reproach to see the little girl sheer off from his neighborhood, 
 obedient and rather frightened. "I wouldn t want to hurt 
 ye, y know," he said gently. 
 
 "She s afraid she s a fraidy-cat," said George, with 
 contempt; "I ain t afraid. I ain t afraid of anything I m 
 just as brave! I wouldn t be afraid of of a whole lot of 
 soldiers with guns. I d go right up to em I would, if 
 there was an army. What would you do ? I bet you d run 
 away!" 
 
 "I bet I would too," said Nathan, chopping steadily. 
 
 "I wouldn t I d fight em all." 
 
 "You couldn t fight an army, George could he fight a 
 whole army?" said the little girl, reasonably appealing to 
 Nathan. 
 
 "Dunno," said Nat. "Mightn t be brave to run away, 
 but twould be better sense. Kinder puts me in mind of 
 what a old Injun oncet said to a man I know. Hungh! 
 he says, white man heap fool. Live jay better n a dead 
 eagle!" 
 
 She looked at him measuringly. "That s the longest 
 you ve said yet," she remarked; "I guess you don t care 
 much about talking, do you ? Now you re laughing," she 
 added quickly, her own grave little face breaking into dim 
 ples. " With your eyes, kind of, I mean. My name s Frances 
 Blake you can call me Francie, if you if you d like to. 
 I m eight. How old are you ? " 
 
 Nat told her, warming, not unnaturally, I think, to the 
 first person, child as she was, who had displayed a living 
 interest in him. The little thing climbed up on a saw-buck, 
 and sat swinging her books in their strap, swinging her bon 
 net by its strings, swinging her proper white legs, while she 
 chattered. " I haven t got any father or mother, either," she 
 said eagerly, when Nat had answered some of her other ques 
 tions; "they re dead a great long while ago when I was a 
 
36 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 little weenty teenty baby; that s why I m not sorry. Aunt 
 Anne says I ought to be sorry, but I just ain t. I just live 
 here, you know, there isn t any other place for me I m 
 Aunt Anne s little girl, she says. I ve got to go to school and 
 study hard, Aunt Anne says, because I m not very quick 
 she says I m the slowest child she ever saw." 
 
 "I don t have to go to school I get excused often often 
 and often. Ma got me excused to-day, because I m sick. 
 I ve got the awfullest sore throat you ever saw," said George, 
 hopping on one foot; "I ain t a bit rugged, Ma says. I m 
 delicate." 
 
 "I thought you looked kinder peaked," said Nathan. 
 Frances gave him a sharp glance. 
 
 "Now you re laughing again," she said, nodding her head 
 shrewdly. "Oh, looky here, I ve got your name in one of 
 my books! It s an old one I m not using, except to learn to 
 make writing-letters out of. Look, it says : Can Nat pat 
 the cat ? You said you were Nat, didn t you ? " 
 
 Nathan arrested the axe to stare at the page she spread 
 before him, with the first prick of interest he had so far ex 
 perienced in his life, in a book. His unskilled eyes and mind 
 followed the lines of print without intelligence until they 
 encountered with a pleasurable surprise his own name in 
 clear letters such as Vaughn s Vegetable Lithontriptic Mix 
 ture itself could not have bettered. 
 
 "There, N, A, T, that s the big print letters, and here it s 
 the little ones all except the big N, and down here it s in the 
 writing-lesson that you do on your slate, you know, when 
 Miss Thompson reads it off," Francie went on, delighted 
 with this phenomenon. "I b lieve there s more about you 
 in the book, but a boy tore out some of the leaves to make 
 spit-balls of and I upset ink over that page, so it s not all 
 here. Didn t you have this book at your school ? I can write 
 that, Can Nat pat - 
 
 "Huh! I should think so," said George, scornfully; "you 
 ought to going on nine!" 
 
 "I know I m slow and then I didn t begin until last 
 fall," said the child. She wrinkled her pale little forehead 
 and eyebrows which latter were very thick, black, and 
 straight and lent what was plainly an entirely misleading 
 expression of resolution and temper to her face with a 
 
CHILDE ROLAND TO THE DARK TOWER CAME 37 
 
 passing look of worry; then it cleared. " But I always learn 
 everything after a while," she finished philosophically, "so 
 it doesn t matter. I m through with that book now. Would 
 you like to have it? " For Nathan had taken the shabby 
 primer from her hand and was turning its stained and ragged 
 leaves with a sudden strong curiosity. 
 
 "Why, I I wouldn t want I don t like " he stam 
 mered. "Are ye sure ye want to give it away ? You don t 
 know me very well fer to make me presents," he warned her 
 with a half-laugh. "They hed books like this where I went 
 ter school, but they wan t enough of em to go round quite 
 ye hed to larn em, two out n one book, ye know I never 
 took much stock in em somehow. But this is a real nice 
 book. I guess it s too good ter give away, ain t it ? " 
 
 "It isn t any present," Francie said ; "it s just my old book, 
 I wouldn t call that a present. Only having your name in 
 it that way, wouldn t you like it ?" 
 
 "Well, I would so, and thanky kindly," said Nathan, with 
 warmth, seeing his acceptance would please her. He de 
 posited the book carefully on an upper beam of the woodshed. 
 "It s a kinder little book fer folks to begin on, ain t it ? I kin 
 read it nights er times when I ain t workin ." 
 
 Friendly relations being thus established, Francie climbed 
 back on her saw-buck which she had temporarily deserted 
 to complete the transfer of the speller and sat hunched up 
 watching him, with her feet knotted around one of its legs, 
 and her chin propped on her hands. 
 
 "Did you like your school much? I don t like school," 
 she remarked candidly. " What was her name ? The one that 
 taught you, I mean ? " 
 
 1 Twan t no her, twas a him," said Nat, swinging the axe 
 rhythmically; " leastways twas a he and a she off an on, 
 you know sometimes one, sometimes t other, fer three-four 
 weeks at a time. They don t hev school stiddy right along 
 where I come from, only jest when folks kin spare time to go." 
 
 "My!" 
 
 " I didn t always go, even when school took up, either," 
 Nat said explanatorily; " I useter go out an shoot V catch 
 fish- 
 
 " Oh, my ! Where where did you go ? " 
 
 "Why, all over in th woods, an everywheres." 
 
38 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 " Were there wild-flowers there ? My, I wish I lived in the 
 country!" said Francie, longingly. 
 
 "No, ye don t," said Nat, in haste, aghast at the thought 
 of leading the young astray. " Tain t tain t a nice place 
 fer little girls like you. And I hadn t orter been shootin 
 an fishin with old Jake neither I d orter been in school, 
 I guess," he added half to himself, a little regretfully. 
 
 " There s the dinner-bell," said George, and started to 
 wards the house. He had not attended closely to the recent 
 proceedings, his interest in Nathan as a novelty seeming to 
 be already on the wane. And it was with the greater sur 
 prise, therefore, that the latter saw him pause on a sudden, 
 face about, and presently come sauntering slowly back again, 
 fidgeting a little, with his hands in his pockets. 
 
 "Say," he began in a confidential undertone, "you got 
 any money?" 
 
 Francie looked from one to the other of them anxiously. 
 
 "Me?" said Nat, who had exactly two dollars and forty 
 cents; "yes." 
 
 "Gimme two bits, will you ? I 11 give it back to you to 
 morrow. I know a way I can make an awful lot of money 
 if I just had the two bits to start on. f l got to get a few 
 things first, you know twine and and things. It s a 
 secret, or I d tell you. I guess I ll make ten or leven dol 
 lars, sure. Mebbe more." 
 
 "What do you want of his two bits, then? Why don t 
 you get Uncle George " Francie demanded practically. 
 
 The boy turned on her peevishly. "You needn t worry, 
 Miss Smarty; I m not saying anything to you. She made a 
 quarter herself digging dandelion-greens out of the front- 
 yard. Father gave it to her for digging em; and she never 
 gave me a cent of it," he said morosely. "Meany all 
 girls are mean, I guess. Ma says we should always share 
 everything." 
 
 "You didn t help any Uncle William said I d earned it 
 all by myself," said Frances. 
 
 "I ll pay you right away to-morrow," George repeated, 
 turning to Nathan again; "you see, I got to have it to-day, 
 on account of the other boys all being out of school to-mor- 
 ror, cause it s Saturday and I ain t going to divide with em, 
 you know. They all know about this; but they can t do 
 
CHILDE ROLAND TO THE DARK TOWER CAME 39 
 
 anything right now, and I m sick, so I don t have to go to 
 school to-day." 
 
 "How 1 !! those other fellers like that, though ?" asked Na 
 than, fishing out the money in no little amusement. 
 
 "Ho! They ain t a bit smart, anyhow. I ll fix it so 
 they ll never know about me getting I mean going well, 
 I can t tell you, you know, cause that d let the secret out. 
 I ll pay you to-morrow if I forget, just remind me, will 
 you ? " He went off whistling to the house, with the quarter 
 secured in his pocket; the little girl also began slowly to 
 retreat. "I I guess you don t know about George," she 
 remarked diffidently, digging one toe into the ground and 
 spinning halfway around on it and halfway back. " You 
 can have my quarter if you like." 
 
 "Lordy, I don t want yer money," exclaimed Nathan. 
 "If you don t look out, you ll give away everything you ve 
 got." 
 
 "It s not that, but George, you know he he won t 
 ever pay you back the two bits. He always says to-morrow 
 and then he don t pay it back at all. And Aunt Anne says 
 it s awful to owe the people that work for you anything. But 
 George don t he don t I mean it s no use to tell him, be 
 cause he s always going to pay you to-morrow and he just 
 gets mad, if you say anything. I I wish you d take my 
 quarter." She faced him with eyes full of her childish trouble, 
 and Nathan divined that the situation was not unusual. 
 
 "Why don t you tell your aunt, then ?" he was begin 
 ning, when she interrupted him with a surprised look. 
 
 "George would tell her it wasn t so," she said simply. 
 "And then it wouldn t make any difference what I said, she d 
 just say, H m," and wouldn t hear me any more. I wish you d 
 take my quarter, please. Nora cried about her money 
 but it was more, it was a dollar she ain t going to stay 
 here Aunt Anne says she ain t kind to children." 
 
 Nat sat down on the saw-buck, considering her thought 
 fully; and she came and stood in front of him, eying him 
 back with a grave and open gaze. 
 
 "You d better take my quarter," she repeated, nodding 
 her wise head. 
 
 "You ve got no call to pay George s debts," said Nathan; 
 "what do you want to do that f or ? " 
 
40 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 "Why, somebody s got to pay them, don t you see? It s 
 not right to owe people, Aunt Anne says. And he won t 
 pay and you went and loaned him the money before I 
 could stop you and I m his cousin somebody s got to 
 pay you, or you won t ever get it," argued the child, still 
 clinging, spite of the evident confusion of her mind, to some 
 rock of principle bedded in the very nature of her; and a 
 spirit within Nat himself, equally native and inarticulate, 
 understood and answered her. 
 
 " You think George beat me out n my money cuz I didn t 
 know him, and somebody had orter told me is that it ?" 
 he said. "Don t you worry, Francie, I know all about 
 George. I reckon he borrys your money, too, when he gits 
 th chanst, hey?" 
 
 She hesitated, then nodded. "I just give it to him, you 
 know," she explained. 
 
 "Might as well give it first as last, hey?" said Nathan, 
 grinning; "he ll git your two bits direckly if he keeps at ye 
 long enough an he s a master-hand to keep at ye," he 
 commented; and seeing assent in her face, went on: "Tell ye 
 what : you bring yer money here an give it to me, wait a 
 minute, I ain t through yet, an I ll put it in this here little 
 tin box along with th flint an steel an th piece of punk I 
 keep to light th lantern with, right up here on th shelf by 
 th lantern. Then next time George wants to borry yer 
 money, ye kin jest send him to me I ll larn him a few bout 
 borryin from girls!" he wound up, not without relish. 
 
 "I wanted to pay you, though," said the youngster, 
 troubled. 
 
 " Well, ye re trustin me with yer money, ain t ye ? That s 
 pretty nigh th same thing." He persuaded her to this 
 agreement finally, and Frances brought him the coin in a 
 shiny little pasteboard box with a bit of jewellers cotton, 
 bright pink, enfolding it. Nathan has it still. 
 
CHAPTER IV 
 
 THE MAIL-BAG 
 
 Mrs. William Ducey to 
 
 Mrs. Cornelia Marsh at 
 
 Chenonville, Avoyelles Parish, La. Sunday (no date) 
 MY PRECIOUS MOTHER, 
 
 Your letter came Thursday. It is still chilly and I think 
 you had better not come North until the middle of June 
 but of course if you start now and visit everybody on the 
 way up you will not get here before the warm weather. I 
 do wish you could bring Mam Jinnie or one or two of the 
 other old darkies and that smart young Luella that you 
 say is such a good semptress with you (only I generally 
 don t care for the yellow ones they are too near white and 
 inclined to put on airs) but Uncle George and William both 
 say you can t bring slaves into this State without danger of 
 some kind of fuss so better not try it. I think it s the silliest 
 thing I ever heard of you can bring everything else you own 
 all the furniture and everything and nobody would say a 
 word and nobody in the South ever cares what you take 
 there. And if they are yours why what business is that of 
 anybody else s what you bring ? I never would think of 
 interfering in other peoples affairs but William says women 
 don t understand and I must not worry about it. I just 
 said to him Why William I can t help worrying and I 
 should think you would see what a trouble I have with ser 
 vants. And if we can t bring slaves from the South why do 
 they let Governor Gywnne import a whole family from 
 Ireland and set them down in his kitchen I d like to know. 
 It s just the same thing exactly. And Will just laughed and 
 said No it isn t Puss, and Governor Gwynne paid his ser 
 vants. But of course you know that s not the real reason, 
 it s because they re white (the Irish I mean) and nobody 
 up here ever makes any to-do over the white people tho 
 
 41 
 
42 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 the servants half the time aren t nearly as well treated as 
 our colored ones. But they won t believe that they think 
 we re standing around with raw-hides and blood-hounds 
 every minute making the slaves behave. And they just 
 smile and shake their heads (that is some of them do) when 
 I say that we re fond of our negroes and nobody ever treats 
 them badly but the overseers and they re almost always 
 men from the North. If you brought Luella you know you 
 could hire her out part of the time when you hadn t any 
 sewing for her to do or didn t need her and that way you 
 could easily get back the money it would take to bring her. 
 The same way you know that Cousin Elise Guion did with 
 her Polly and Ned after Cousin Louis got shot in Baton 
 Rouge the time they elected Judge Lestrappe and she was a 
 widow and didn t have anything left to live on. I must 
 say I always thought she did pretty well after Cousin Louis 
 died better than when he was alive. Well anyway it s no 
 use talking you can t bring them. 
 
 The way things are here it s a perfect nuisance (about ser 
 vants I mean) and I never shall get used to it if I live in the 
 North for centuries. I can t understand now why it was that 
 none of us ever noticed it when we used to come up here 
 with you every summer and visit Uncle George before any 
 of us were married. But girls aren t thinking of anything 
 but dress and having a good time and then of course we 
 were in the best hotels and boarding-houses wherever we 
 went and never heard a thing about servants. And by the 
 way Uncle George has made a change and is boarding now 
 with a Mrs. Woolley on Friend Street. I wanted him to 
 come here and live with us but he doesn t care about it and 
 you know he s very set so I suppose it s just as well. I was 
 going to tell you when I got started on this that I got two 
 of the girls out of Governor Gwynne s Irish family there were 
 a whole piling lot of them all ages going down in steps one 
 a little bit younger than the next you know which I suppose 
 is the reason the governor brought them so there d always 
 be somebody coming on to take the place as fast as they got 
 married or anything. It s a splendid plan if you can only get 
 hold of a big enough family. These two he didn t want of 
 course. Marian Gwynne is keeping house for him now (you 
 know Marian Ellison the one that married David Gwynne) 
 
THE MAIL-BAG 43 
 
 She came back last fall from Philadelphia after David died 
 she s got one child Louise the reddest head you ever saw 
 Gwynne all over. So of course Marian took her pick of the 
 Irish and got the best of them tho dear knows that s not 
 saying much. My two didn t know a living thing and went 
 whooping and keening around in that Irish way till I couldn t 
 stand it and they re both going when this month is up. They 
 want to go around the house in their bare feet and break 
 the china half a dozen plates at a clip as Will says so that I 
 have to let them go in sheer self-defence or I wouldn t have 
 a thing left to put on the table. William seemed to think it 
 rather funny until Bridget scrubbed his leather arm-chair 
 with soft-soap and boiling water I m sure I don t know why 
 for she never scrubs the kitchen-floor and then he sang a 
 very different tune. Of course I want to teach them our 
 ways about cooking I always do that as none of them ever 
 know anything about corn-bread or beat-biscuit or gumbo 
 but there are some things I supposed everybody knew and 
 thought I didn t need to tell them. But I never saw people 
 so stupid they can t learn tho I ve tried my best for weeks 
 and put up with all kinds of impertinence from them and I 
 just had to tell them I couldn t do anything with them they 
 were too dull and I d give up and let somebody else try. 
 Neither one of them seemed a bit sorry although they are 
 leaving a good home and I think we are giving the highest 
 wages of anybody in town a dollar seventy-five to the cook 
 and a dollar and a half to Nora. I asked Nathan if he 
 didn t know a nice country-girl that wanted a place in town 
 and if he wouldn t tell her about us and what a good place 
 this was. But he said he didn t know of any one. He s 
 another slow one the slowest mortal on earth I do believe 
 not about his work you know but other things. But he seems 
 to be improving here lately. 
 
 I forget whether I told you that Nathan is our new chore- 
 boy. William was perfectly possessed to get one from the 
 country he says they re always the best and he heard about 
 this one from a farmer that comes in to do his trading at the 
 store. Wo\l he was the wildest-looking scarecrow you can 
 possibly imagine I tell you my heart went down into my 
 boots when I saw him but as I say he s getting along very 
 well in spite of his looks and you never have to tell him a 
 
44 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 thing but once which is a comfort. I thought at first it would 
 be as well to watch him and see that he didn t take things 
 or neglect or mistreat anything for I never saw one of them 
 that wouldn t bear watching. And you know our harness 
 is very handsome with silver-plated buckles on it. So I 
 have been going out every now and then when he wasn t 
 expecting anybody and kind of wandering round keeping one 
 eye out and asking about things in a way that showed I 
 knew. But I never caught him doing anything out of the way 
 and nothing s been missed so far. Probably he don t know 
 enough to know when things are valuable. He seems to 
 work right straight ahead without paying any attention to 
 anybody even me and William says the work is done all 
 right but a man never knows. Nathan is rather silent and 
 sulky and never speaks except when he is spoken to so differ 
 ent from our colored people who always have such beautiful 
 manners. I told William thinking he d be pleased for he 
 never has any time to look after anything or see that the 
 servants are doing their work and I want to spare him that 
 extra trouble as much as I can. But he was quite put out 
 and said I ought to remember that Nathan was a self-re 
 specting white man and that he wouldn t go picking and 
 stealing and idling away his time like the darkies and he 
 thought it very strange that after living in the North five 
 years I couldn t see that white people of the working class 
 were different from slaves and that he thought maybe that 
 was one reason why I had such a time getting along with 
 them. I never knew Will so unreasonable and I m afraid 
 maybe he s not very well or has been having trouble at the 
 store and you know he s too sweet and dear ever to tell me 
 anything about his business for fear of worrying me tho I 
 should really like to know and I m sure I could help 
 him. 
 
 I didn t argue with him at all I just said Why William 
 you know the negroes don t call it stealing to take things to 
 eat once in a while or pretty things to wear you just have 
 to watch them a little and when they take things just take 
 them away and tell them they can t have that and they 
 won t make a bit of fuss. It wouldn t be at all odd if Nathan 
 should take something and I wouldn t have any squabble 
 with him I d just tell him nicely and quietly that that wasn t 
 
THE MAIL-BAG 45 
 
 right and the experience would be good for him. They all 
 have to be taught things like that. I ve hardly ever had a 
 servant I didn t have to teach that way, and I m sure IVe 
 had a good many. But while I was talking Will just got up 
 and said he had to go to the store and went off without an 
 other word so I know he s worried about something and it 
 makes me very anxious and miserable. 
 
 This long letter is all about nothing but servants but you 
 know, mother darling I never could compose I just have to 
 write right along what comes into my head and after all I 
 generally manage to get everything in that s news. George 
 is doing wonderfully at school especially when you consider 
 he has to be out of it a great deal of the time when he isn t 
 well. Of course he s my child and I don t want to be silly 
 about him like so many mothers but it s a great pleasure to 
 me to have him so handsome and smart. I wish I could 
 say as much for Francie but there is no use pretending the 
 child is altogether her father over again and not in the least 
 like dear Sister who was always so gentle and refined. Here 
 latterly she s struck up a great friendship with the hired 
 man and wants to go and stand around and watch him and 
 talk to him at his work. She must get more out of him than 
 the rest of us for we never hear him say anything but yes 
 ma am and no ma am. But Francie certainly has a bent for 
 that sort of society and it almost reconciles me to Sister s 
 death when I think how it would have grieved her. 
 
 I will write you again at Cousin Tom s and you must write 
 me every place you stop and how long you think you will be 
 there so that I will know where to send my letters. With a 
 heartful of love for my own dearest mother as ever your 
 
 NANCY. 
 
 P.S. William has just brought me the most beautiful 
 brooch a heart-shaped opal with diamonds all around it. I 
 know he feels badly for having spoken to me so harshly about 
 the hired man as if that mattered. Oh mother dear I 
 just can t wait till you get here I am so crazy for you to see 
 it. Lovingly A. 
 
46 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 Mrs. William Ducey to 
 
 Mrs. Cornelia Marsh 
 
 care Judge Thomas B. Henry 
 
 Memphis Tenn., June 17th, 183- 
 
 MY DEAREST MOTHER. 
 
 Well it is sizzling hot here now so you wouldn t be much 
 better off than where you are still I was very much dissap- 
 pointed (sic) when your letter came saying you couldn t get 
 here at the time we set. But of course if all Helen s children 
 are down with the measles you can t leave her it would be 
 perfectly heartless when she depends on you so. Measles 
 aren t dangerous but to have three or four of the poor little 
 things (and hers are so near together barely a year between 
 them) all crying and miserable at once is pretty hard to 
 stand without some other help than the colored servants. 
 Grace and her two boys are here now and Tulie Vanneaudet ; 
 they all send their love to you. 
 
 What you said about meeting the only man that escaped 
 from the Alamo on the boat coming up from New Orleans 
 was most interesting but oh mother I m afraid you ve been 
 terribly taken in. Do let me tell you what happened here 
 the other day. I was -sitting upstairs sewing on Francie s 
 little dress for the pic-nic Mrs. Hunter is going to give her 
 Jennie and the children on the twenty-fifth when school 
 closes when Georgie came bursting into the room with his 
 eyes as big as saucers screaming out Oh Ma there s a soldier 
 in the kitchen do come and look at him, he s the last one that 
 got out! He was so excited I couldn t make out what he 
 was talking about so I thought I might as well go down and 
 see the last one that got out whoever and whatever he was 
 and wherever he got out of. When I got to the kitchen 
 here was Mary (she s the new one) setting a great table-full 
 of cold beef and pie and pickles and everything in the pantry 
 for the man who looked awfully weak and tired poor fellow 
 and no wonder for he told me he had walked every foot of the 
 way from Texas here and he was going up to his old mother 
 who lived in New York State and he expected to die there 
 if not before he d had such a terrible time. And he wasn t 
 the last one as my little boy said but the only one that got 
 out of the Alamo alive. It was the most pitiful thing I 
 
THE MAIL-BAG 47 
 
 ever saw he was almost starved altho before he would eat 
 a bite he asked couldn t he have a little stimulant as he felt 
 very faint and it was dangerous for a starving man to eat 
 a meal unless he had something like that beforehand. So 
 Mary was going to give him some cider but I said Mary 
 how can you! And I made her get him a bottle out of that 
 case of French brandy Uncle George gave William last 
 Christmas and you may know how badly he felt by this 
 taking at least two-thirds of it before he felt strong enough to 
 begin and eat. He was so grateful and said Madam you 
 know what s good for a starving man and drank off a whole 
 tumbler with a little water at one swallow. You see he was 
 very different from the man you met except that he hadn t 
 any money either. He was all in rags and I got him some 
 clothes and a good shirt of William s and it was perfectly 
 touching to hear him say Madame I m nothing but a poor 
 defender of my country I can t give you anything in return 
 for your kindness but God bless you. He was so overcome 
 he could hardly speak distinctly. Just then Nathan the 
 hired man came in, and he looked kind of queerly at the man 
 but didn t say anything in his usual sulky way I suppose 
 he was mad because he saw I had given the man some of 
 Mr. Ducey s clothes which he considers his perquisite. 
 
 So then we got the man to tell us all about the fight at the 
 Alamo and it wasn t at all as your man described it so you 
 see you ve been deceived and I m so sorry you gave him any 
 money. In the first place you know your man said Colonel 
 Crockett drew a line and said for everybody to step over 
 that wanted to go away and everybody but himself (your 
 man I mean) stayed and he waited until the Mexicans 
 stopped firing for a minute and dropped over the wall and 
 swam the river and got away. But this man said it wasn t 
 like that at all and the Mexicans never stopped firing for a 
 second and Crockett never said that. He said it was the 
 most aweful scene sometimes he thought he was going to 
 lose his mind when he remembered it. Or dreamed about 
 it. He killed six men himself and the last one with his 
 dying effort hit him over the head with his rifle so he fell 
 down insensible under the heap of the six he had killed and 
 that way was hidden when the Mexicans came around killing 
 the wounded afterwards. I said Mercy six men and he 
 
48 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 said that wasn t anything Crockett killed fourteen he saw 
 him and counted them as they fell and Col. Bowie shot 
 eight and knifed five before they killed him. He said the 
 Mexicans came swarming in by hundreds and our men were 
 overwhelmed but kept on fighting like devils one man against 
 a dozen at once so that they hardly knew what they were 
 doing just shot and stabbed blindly right and left. Then 
 Nathan drawled out My I don t see how you could take time 
 to count them men you and the others killed. But of course 
 he did that afterwards and he said he heard the Mexicans 
 talking about it while he was lying on the ground. You see 
 his story is almost exactly the same as they had in the news 
 papers so it must be true. He said it had taken him ever 
 since over a year to get away from Texas and get this far 
 North and he didn t know whether he d live to see his 
 mother after all and he was her only boy. And oh mother 
 he cried when he said that and it was the saddest thing. I 
 just thought of my little Georgie. I gave him two dollars 
 so he could go part of the way on the stage or by the canal 
 for I saw he must be very feeble from all he had gone through. 
 And after I had come upstairs I heard a kind of rumpus 
 in the kitchen and I looked out of the window and there 
 was Nathan sort of boosting the man along to the side gate 
 in a very rough way so I called out of the window to him and 
 told him to be more gentle that poor man wasn t able to 
 walk but he didn t answer just shoved him out of the yard 
 and kept shoving him up the street altho I could see the 
 man was protesting. William brought Uncle George home 
 to dinner and I told them about it and said plainly I 
 didn t believe I wanted such a bad-tempered boy as Nathan 
 around because it was such a bad example for Georgie and 
 I was sure if he behaved like this at only sixteen or seven 
 teen he would turn out a brutal vicious man. I thought 
 they both looked rather funny and Will seemed a little taken 
 aback about the brandy especially when he found there 
 wasn t any left and said he thought cider would have done 
 for the fellow, but I said Why William and then he kissed 
 me and said I was a dear little woman and never mind he 
 didn t care how much brandy I gave away. Then Uncle 
 George said in his swearing way By he d like to see that 
 chore-boy. And they both went out and talked to him and 
 
THE MAIL-BAG 49 
 
 came back laughing and Will told me he wouldn t dismiss 
 him because he had really been doing what he thought was 
 right and Uncle George seemed to think he was a pretty 
 likely boy. William always is so attentive to Uncle George s 
 likes and dislikes you know he thinks its his duty. 
 
 I have written this off in a great hurry to catch the mail 
 as I want to be sure you will get it. Dearest love to all 
 and keep the lion s share for yourself from 
 
 your own NANCY. 
 
 P.S. Will says the last six months the country has been 
 fairly bristling with only survivors of the Alamo and they 
 come into the store begging every two or three weeks. He 
 says there re enough of them to have crammed the fort full 
 and some left outside. Isn t it awful to think there are so 
 many impostors ? Your man must have been one of them. 
 
 NAN. 
 
 Mrs. William Ducey to 
 
 Mrs. Stevenson Desha, at 
 
 Frankfort, Ky. July (no other date) 
 
 MY DEAR SISTER BETTY, 
 
 Ma will be with you by the time this reaches Frankfort 
 unless something has turned up to keep her at Emily s so 
 this letter is for both of you. I have been expecting her 
 from week to week and so have you I suppose but she is 
 always a long while on the road for of course she can t go 
 right by where people live and one s kin at that and never 
 stop to see them you understand that as well as I do. Only 
 it s a little awkward to have all our friends calling to see her 
 for two months before she gets here and by the time she does 
 get here they will all be completely played out and won t 
 want to come again. 
 
 I wish you could come with her this time but of course 
 if you re expecting in September it wouldn t be quite safe 
 and besides you would be uncomfortable. I do hope it will 
 be a boy this time. But you would be so interested to see 
 this place again and meet everybody you used to know. It 
 has changed so much in ten years and got so much bigger 
 you would be perfectly astonished. Every one keeps talking 
 about hard times and this currency trouble but it seems to 
 
50 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 me things go right along just the same and they go on build 
 ing houses and have lovely things in the stores. And I 
 must say I can t see why people should make such a fuss 
 over whether they buy things with a piece of silver marked 
 ten cents or a piece of paper marked ten cents. They call 
 them shin-plasters here I suppose they do with you too. Of 
 course the paper ones aren t any good sometimes but generally 
 you can get your ten cents worth with either one so what s 
 the difference ? And oh Betty I do think it s the funniest 
 thing the way they all talk about General Jackson and the 
 President (the Whigs talk I mean) and say it s all their 
 fault about the shin-plasters and the banks breaking up you 
 know and go on as if both the poor men had horns hoofs and 
 tails and then lo and behold at the 4th of July banquet the 
 other day didn t they get up and toast Jackson and Van Buren 
 and talk about them as if they were the grandest things on 
 earth! Every other day in the year they say the United 
 States is going to the dogs and on the 4th it s the most pros 
 perous wonderful country there is. Will says it s because 
 they re all politicians and they have to do that way on a 
 public occasion because it wouldn t be proper and dignified 
 to say what they think. I tell you if the women ran it things 
 would be different. 
 
 They had the banquet it was really just a basket-party 
 you know like the burgoos at home out in Willson s Grove: 
 I expect you remember the place because we went to a pic-nic 
 there one summer when we were all up here visiting Uncle 
 George only you were a right little girl at the time. It s 
 generally kind of hot and flies in the lemonade and I don t 
 care much about going but of course the children were 
 crazy to. In the morning they had the procession as usual 
 and we all saw it from the windows in the big room over 
 William s store and then we went to the Methodist Church 
 where the procession wound up not that they were all 
 Methodists you know but its the biggest in town so every 
 body could get in and hear the exercises. The place was 
 jammed to the doors and hotter Uncle George said than it 
 was decent for any church to be. We had a struggle getting 
 in tho we were among the first and at last I got a seat and 
 took Francie on my lap which didn t make either of us any 
 cooler and Will had to stand and prop up Georgie who had 
 
THE MAIL-BAG 51 
 
 got himself somehow straddle of the pew-door. It was all 
 decorated with flags and streamers and they had seats on 
 the platform for the speakers and there they were and I 
 did feel so sorry for them they looked so hot and uncom 
 fortable and couldn t lounge or let down one single instant 
 because everybody was looking square at them. Governor 
 Vance sat in the middle and looked as if he was simply melt 
 ing down (he s rather a stout man you know) and finally 
 did unbutton his waistcoat I suppose he couldn t stand it 
 any longer and no wonder it was stamped crimson velvet 
 one of those double-breasted ones with two rows of cut 
 crystal buttons you know very handsome and fashionable 
 but so out of place particularly for a fleshy person. Then 
 there was Bishop Mcllvaine and he is a dear and Mr. Cor- 
 win and next to him Governor or I suppose I ought to say 
 ex-governor Gwynne only it s so hard to remember and he 
 was the only cool-looking one of them all. He s so lean 
 you remember and immaculately dressed his shirt didn t 
 wilt down one bit like every one else s but he seemed pretty 
 cross for all that. I guess he can t help it I never saw him 
 look pleasant. He s just like a scrawny old turkey-gobbler 
 with that great hook nose and his hair has got awfully gray 
 this last year I don t think you d know him he seems so 
 much older. 
 
 Well then Mr. Sharpless the Presbyterian minister got 
 up and prayed and prayed and prayed until we were all 
 nearly dead I suppose it s an aweful thing to say. But all 
 the while he was praying I couldn t help thinking of what a 
 time he had at home with Jimmie you d think praying 
 didn t do him much good anyhow. I m sure you must 
 recollect Jimmie he was such a darling little boy and you 
 used to go and see Mary Sharpless and both of you girls have 
 such a time dressing him up and playing with him. Mary s 
 an old maid you know it s so strange she s had innumerable 
 affairs but nothing ever seems to come to anything and I 
 suppose she won t have any more chances now she s twenty- 
 five at least she s a little bit older than you. And Jimmie has 
 grown up a regular minister s son so wild they can t do any 
 thing with him. It must be a terrible cross to his poor father 
 and mother and I believe Will and I hardly know how 
 blessed we are to have a son like Georgie. They say Jim 
 
52 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 dropped a handful of fish-worms down some other boy s back 
 at Sunday-school and when the Methodists were having 
 their Conference here and the whole town was full of them he 
 got out in the yard and got some of the children in the neigh 
 borhood and the servants and delivered a long sermon with 
 things like powerfully converted and awful conviction of SIN 
 in a great roaring rumbling voice exactly to mimic the Rev 
 erend Bigelow (a great pillar among the Methodists) so that 
 they were all in fits of laughter and everybody else perfectly 
 scandalized. The worst of it is he s about fifteen or sixteen 
 now too old to whip him with a cane and shut him up in the 
 wood-shed the way his father used to do. Uncle George 
 told Mr. Sharpless to his face that anyway he wouldn t give 
 a - - for a boy that could be scared into good behavior 
 with hell-fire or a strap either one. And poor Mr. Sharpless 
 couldn t say a word for he d come to ask for a donation ! 
 
 Well I must get back to the 4th of July I knew you d want 
 to hear about Jimmie so I might as well tell you while I was 
 thinking about it. After Mr. Sharpless got through we had 
 the Star-Spangled Banner everybody standing up and 
 singing and then they read the Declaration of Independence 
 while we were still all standing of course. And by the way 
 let me tell you while I m talking about the Sharpless boy that 
 as we were standing and I was a good deal bothered about 
 Francie the child is so small yet I couldn t hold her up and 
 I was really afraid she d be smothered to death down there 
 among all our skirts with a great fat woman squeezed up 
 against me on the other side somebody leaned over from 
 behind and whispered to me I ll take your little girl Mrs. 
 Ducey and stuck out a great long arm and sort of scooped 
 Francie up and stood her on the back of the pew. After 
 wards when the reading was over I turned around to thank 
 him and here it was Jim Sharpless and I suppose everybody 
 in the place saw me speak to him and I was a good deal 
 embarrassed. He is about as big for his age as Francie is 
 little for hers with huge raw bony wrists sticking out of his 
 sleeves but not so very bad-looking a boy for all his wild- 
 ness. Of course I made Francie come to me right away but 
 I spoke nicely to him and thanked him as if I had never 
 heard that there was anything wrong with him at all. The 
 next thing Governor Vance spoke on the day we celebrate 
 
THE MAIL-BAG 53 
 
 but he didn t say very much because I suppose he knew the 
 others were going to speak right after him and they must 
 have kind of divided up what there was to say so it would 
 go around and nobody interfere with anybody else. And 
 when he got through Governor Gwynne had his turn and 
 spoke about the Soldiers of the Revolution and was quite in 
 teresting much more so than I thought he could be but 
 Uncle George says he has always been a fine speaker and if 
 you should come in in the middle of a speech Sam Gwynne 
 was making you couldn t tell which side he was on and Uncle 
 George says it takes a smart man to do that. And then Mr. 
 Corwin spoke about the pioneers and first settlers and he just 
 told funny stories and some that weren t very nice but the 
 men all laughed like everything even the Bishop sort of 
 grinned. Then we sang America and Bishop Mcllvaine 
 made a prayer that is he just said the General Thanksgiving 
 out of the Service you know Almighty God Father of all 
 mercies and said the Benediction and that ended it. 
 
 This was the first 4th of July I have been to in four or five 
 years what with sickness and being in mourning for some of 
 Mr. Ducey s family or something preventing. And speak 
 ing of mourning there weren t very many of Governor 
 Gwynne s connection there only some of the men as a good 
 many of them are wearing black for poor David. You know 
 the Gwynnes are a great family to stand by one another and 
 stick together. David was Charlotte s elder brother that 
 you used to be such a friend of you must have seen him 
 around the house when you used to go there. However in 
 the evening we all went out to the Governor s to see the fire 
 works on the lawn that he has every Fourth for poor people. 
 The family always ask a few of their friends to come and sit 
 on the porch not to mix in with the poor people you know 
 but just to see the fireworks. The Governor always goes 
 down and walks around and talks to the poor people and the 
 children and Uncle George says it s nothing but one of Sam 
 Gwynne s popularity dodges. So we went and the place 
 was all lit up and looked splendid you know it s his beautiful 
 new house with everything in it very elegant but we had a 
 doleful time in spite of it. For here was poor Mrs. David 
 Gwynne going around in her black clothes all over crape 
 trying to seem cheerful and I just said to her in the hall 
 
54 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 Oh Marian my dear I know this is terribly hard for you and 
 why do you do it ? Her eyes filled up but she just said I 
 can t help it Nannie you know it s on account of Uncle 
 Samuel s position we ve got to entertain and see people but 
 it s awful when I think of last year. She told me all about 
 David s dying of the cholera it was very bad in Philadelphia 
 and she thought Louise might go too and she was nearly 
 distracted so she just bundled up and came home out West 
 tho she didn t know what she was going to do or where she 
 was going to live after she got here. And she said the Gov 
 ernor came right to her as soon as he heard where she was 
 and told her to come here and consider his house her home 
 that his nephew s wife was just the same to him as his own 
 kin he would think himself more than repaid if she would 
 look after his own motherless children. So of course she 
 feels it a duty to have everything just the way he likes and do 
 everything he says but I imagine it s not always very easy with 
 that great house to take care of and all the Governor s chil 
 dren and they say the boys are very hard to manage. I told 
 her I knew just how she felt because that was just the kind 
 of scare I got into when Sister Cornelia and her husband died 
 within a week of each other of yellow fever in New Orleans 
 and I just made William take us all away and bring us up 
 North to Uncle George I was too frightened to stay there a 
 minute longer I believe I d have lost my mind. She said 
 Oh is that Cornelia s little girl I thought she was yours and 
 who did Cornelia marry ? So Betty I told her she married 
 a Mr. Francis Blake and that was all. I didn t have the 
 courage to tell Marian Gwynne of all people that he was 
 nothing but a play-actor I just couldn t do it and besides I 
 don t know whether it would be quite fair to Francie to let 
 that get out and I do hope you have never mentioned it to 
 a soul for you know things like that do travel around in the 
 most wonderful way. I went right on talking quite quickly 
 and telling her William had gone in business up here and we 
 meant to live here always but she didn t seem very much 
 interested poor thing. 
 
 You can see we had quite an exhausting day of it on the 
 4th. In the afternoon we went to Willson s Grove and 
 heard all the toasts after the banquet. It was just the way 
 they all are. They toasted the Press may it forever stick 
 
THE MAIL-BAG 55 
 
 up as a beacon or something like that you know and then 
 everybody would cheer and go on like mad. And then the 
 Common Schools may they ever encourage the youth of our 
 land and all the rest of it. And Female Patriotism may it 
 something or other. And Henry Clay and Benjamin Frank 
 lin (his memory of course) and the Fair Daughters of the 
 West may they so-and-so. And they had one about Intem 
 perance Slavery Licentiousness may they never do this that 
 or the other. You know people up here are perfectly silly 
 about slavery they talk as if it were the unpardonable sin. 
 The children were worn out when we got home and so cross 
 there was no living in the house with them I never was so 
 glad a day was over in my life. 
 
 I have written a volume but I knew you would be interested 
 to hear all about everybody and what we are doing. Give 
 ever and ever so much love to Ma and everybody with a good 
 kiss and hug for my dear little sister as ever 
 
 NANCY. 
 Mrs. William Ducey to 
 
 Mrs. Cornelia Marsh at 
 The Broadway Hotel Cincinnati Ohio 
 
 Thursday August 2nd. 
 
 MY DEAR MOTHER 
 
 I am scribbling this off in a hurry yours having just come 
 as I want it to get to you before you make the arrangement 
 you speak of and the West-bound mail leaves at a quarter past 
 three. It s ever so much better to come as far as you can by 
 the canal. That would be as far as Dayton anyhow and 
 would save you that much of the trip on the stage which is 
 horrid so hot and dusty and dirty and the worst roads worse 
 I think towards the Cincinnati end than this way tho neither 
 anything to boast of. They have a service with very nice 
 accommodations for passengers of course not like an elegant 
 Mississippi river steamboat but very nice altho so slow. You 
 would be so much cleaner and cooler and more comfortable 
 than the stage that I know you would not regret it. They 
 say the table is very good I don t know as I ve never been on 
 one myself. If you come all the way by the stage you have 
 to change at Dayton sometime in the middle of the night 
 because the Douglas line of coaches ends and it s FinnelFs 
 from there here. 
 
56 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 I am sending this by the Express-Mail so it will surely reach 
 you. They just began running it last month the coaches 
 dash into town and out again like the wind it s quite a sight 
 but a great deal finer to look at than to ride in I m sure. 
 One of them came from Zanesville that s 54 miles in four hours 
 the other day that gives you some idea of the speed they go 
 at. You have to put Express-Stage on the outside of your 
 letter you ll see it on this one and it costs three or four times 
 as much but if one is in a hurry it s a wonderful relief to know 
 that your letter is flying along as if the Seven-League-Boots 
 were carrying it and you don t care how much you spend. 
 The only trouble about your taking the canal-boat is that 
 nobody can tell exactly when you will get here they take it 
 very easy and don t make the least effort to be on time for 
 the coaches. But there are always dozens of men and boys 
 hanging around the Capitol tavern where they all stop for 
 the fresh horses and if you should arrive and find nobody there 
 you could send down word to the store or to the house every 
 body knows where we live by any of them and I will send 
 Nathan down with the carriage right away you won t have 
 to wait any time and if it happened I couldn t come myself 
 you would know the horses anyhow and Nathan is a tall thin 
 boy with a kind of high nose and blue eyes you will know him 
 by the eyes. But I ll be sure to come for I feel as if I couldn t 
 wait to see you. 
 
 Just now we are very comfortably fixed for servants but 
 nobody knows how long it will last it s a perfect procession 
 through my kitchen. The hired man has been doing very 
 well and seems to be steady. We gave him a half-holiday 
 on the Fourth so that he could see the celebration and then 
 he disappeared and I made sure he had gone off to get drunk 
 the way they all do but it seems he had walked out in the 
 country to see the people he used to live with and he was at 
 work the next day as sober as could be. However I am afraid 
 he is learning the impudent ways of the rest of them because 
 the other day I was out in the garden standing over him to 
 see that he weeded it properly and I just thought I would 
 give him a talking-to in a nice way you know about his 
 manners never saying but yes ma am and no ma am. So I 
 told him how nice the colored people in the South were and 
 that nobody ever had to tell them a thing about it they are 
 
THE MAIL-BAG 57 
 
 so good-tempered and have so much natural refinement about 
 some things. You know they just watch the white people 
 the quality they call them Nathan I said and imitate them 
 that means do exactly the way the white people their masters 
 do and that s the reason all the negro-servants have such 
 lovely manners now don t you think you could do that? 
 He looked at me and said in his drawl Well but Mrs. Ducey 
 I haven t seen any white person I wanted to -imitate yet. 
 Did you ever Ma f That s just a sample of the kind of thing 
 you get from servants up here. I said Nathan there is one 
 thing I won t have and that is impertinence and I shall tell 
 Mr. Ducey what you have said and I went back to the house. 
 So when Will came home I told him and he was very angry 
 and was going out to send Nathan right off when Uncle 
 George who happened to be here stuck in his oar and I must 
 say I think he is very dictatorial and said he d rather have a 
 rude boy hoeing beans and minding his business than a polite 
 one who wasn t worth his salt like all the rest we d had except 
 Nathan. And he said if we dismissed him we d be the los 
 ers for a boy like that could get a job anywhere and he d 
 probably be better satisfied some place where the lady of the 
 house didn t hold up niggers for him to pattern after. Of 
 course I hadn t done anything of the kind but there is no 
 use trying to argue with Uncle George he is so obstinate 
 the only way to do is to go ahead and have your own way and 
 let him growl around. But Will crinkled right down and said 
 he guessed it was more ignorance than impudence on Na 
 than s part and maybe I d just better let him alone in future. 
 William does make me so mad sometimes he thinks because 
 Uncle George set him up in business when we came here to 
 live that he has to be influenced by everything Uncle George 
 says when dear knows he s paid Uncle George ten times over 
 not in money I believe he owes him some yet but in other 
 ways. Just look at the perfectly wonderful way he s run the 
 store there isn t such another man in a thousand. But I 
 simply was not going to be bulldozed that way so I just said 
 Very well if Nathan can get another job so readily he may try 
 I am very glad to hear it but I will not submit to impudent 
 servants and you know mother how much will-power I have 
 even Uncle George can t bend me when I know I m right. I 
 was going out to dismiss him myself when luckily for Nathan 
 
58 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 Georgie the child has the sweetest disposition began to cry 
 and said Oh please Ma don t send Nathan away oh please 
 don t he s promised to take me out hunting some day and he 
 said he d teach me to swim. And then he went on and begged 
 so hard I just couldn t help giving in the dear little fellow! 
 So Nathan got off for once but it shan t happen again for I 
 won t put up with any such behavior. 
 
 George and Francie are in the wildest state of excitement 
 about seeing Grandma. Georgie has been going around 
 for days saying Oh I wonder if she s brought my bonearrers. 
 I couldn t imagine what bonearrers was until by questioning 
 I found out he meant a bow-and-arrows which you promised 
 him last year. Francie insists that you said you would give 
 them to him if he learned Instruct me in Thy statutes Lord 
 Thy righteous paths display so as to say it off without a mis 
 take the whole hymn. But she is probably only saying so 
 to tease him for he vows you never said anything of the 
 sort and he is a very truthful child as you know. Francie 
 herself is perfectly immersed in making you a bead reticule 
 out of lavender silk twist crocheted with steel beads in a 
 Greek Key pattern she got out of Godey s. Of course she 
 can t do it and has to ravel it out and fix it over again a dozen 
 times a day I believe she goes to bed with it and it will be as 
 black as the chimney-back before she s finished it but she will 
 do it you never saw such persistence. The child is not the 
 least like dear Sister she s all Blake. The other day I heard 
 her out in the kitchen asking Mary if she wouldn t please do 
 something for her. I called her right in to me and said 
 Francie dear that is not the way for a little lady to speak to 
 the servants you must always be nice and pleasant but never 
 say please or thank you that s for them to say to you. She 
 didn t seem to understand at all and I had the greatest trouble 
 explaining to her about keeping them in their places. She s 
 not very quick you know altho a good sweet child as any 
 child of Sister s would be sure to be. 
 
 I must close this letter or it won t get off and I m right 
 down at the bottom of the page anyhow. With dear love 
 
 ANN. 
 
CHAPTER V 
 
 IN WHICH WE HEAR A LlTTLE ANCIENT HlSTORY 
 
 LONG years before the hot radiant summer afternoon on 
 which the last of those letters of which Chapter Four is made 
 up was written and despatched by that lightning-footed 
 messenger FinnelFs Coach, long before there were any coaches 
 or any roads in that part of the world or indeed any State of 
 Ohio or State of Louisiana, and long before Mr. Nat Burke 
 arrived to confer immortality upon his particular section of 
 the country, old George Marsh set foot for the first time upon 
 the soil of the New World at Castle Garden; and looking 
 about him, I daresay with some wonder but very little con 
 cern, struck out with a sturdy heart into the strong current 
 of adventure. He was not old George Marsh in those days, 
 however; he was twenty-one or -two, not much the senior of 
 the Republic whereof he proposed to become a citizen, when 
 the brig Royal Charlotte, forty-seven days out from Bristol, 
 discharged him upon the pier at New York with a little ready 
 money in his pockets and the rest of his savings (thirty odd 
 pounds) sewed into the lining of his waistcoat. It was good 
 West-of-England broadcloth, that waistcoat, and George 
 wore it for ten years, until his increasing girth obliged him 
 regretfully to put it aside. Already this emigrant displayed 
 some of the qualities of a desirable member of the common 
 wealth; among them a solid intelligence and a slow yet 
 trustworthy sense of humor, a surprisingly clear, cool, and 
 hard head for so young a man, entire honesty coupled with 
 shrewdness, an aptitude for affairs, and a constitution that 
 carried him in triumph to the age of fourscore, undeterred 
 by a dozen changes of climate, the ordinary accidents and 
 misadventures of life, the fevers of the soil, and the murderous 
 medical practice of his day. 
 
 He came, he stayed, he prospered. George had learned 
 no profession nor trade, his gifts not lying in that direction, 
 
 59 
 
60 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 but at any sort of bet, bargain, or dicker he achieved almost 
 from the first essay a notable success. People talked fa 
 miliarly or contemptuously of Marsh s luck; but in Burke s 
 observation which, to be sure, only embraced some half- 
 score of his later years there was no such thing; it was 
 Marsh s temperament, Marsh s robust and steadfast confi 
 dence in himself. He was not reckless, he was never fool 
 ishly sanguine or uplifted; he would as soon have thrown his 
 dollars in the fire as gone about boasting of how he made 
 them and would make more. The core and secret of his suc 
 cess might, perhaps, be found in an utter lack of imagination, 
 a kind of inability to perceive that things might turn to the 
 bad for him; truly they never did, but George Marsh wasted 
 no sleepless nights in worry about that possibility. By dint 
 of believing in himself he won, without effort, the belief of 
 others potest quia posse videtur! His was the stolid and 
 unemotional faith of the Briton, who would not know if he 
 should be beaten, and o,ut of this nettle danger will invariably 
 pluck this flower safety. 
 
 Old George, by the time Burke came to know him, pos 
 sessed few other distinctively British characteristics; he 
 never went back to visit his native land, and became within 
 a short while of his landing thoroughly Americanized in 
 dress, speech, and habits of mind. If he did not go about 
 dragging his coat-tails in the presence of the mother country, 
 such being the approved and popular attitude of that day 
 for most Columbian patriots, it was because that method 
 of displaying one s opinions was foreign to his character and 
 indeed moved him to saturnine merriment. After a residence 
 of some eight or ten years in the city of New York, during 
 which he turned over his thirty pounds many times and ac 
 quired something of a name for parts and prudence, he left 
 his affairs there under a trusted surveillance, and started for 
 the South in search of new commercial worlds to conquer. 
 He was now a well-established and well-to-do bachelor of 
 thirty; the century was drawing to its close, and the Louisi 
 ana Purchase or who knows what other mighty changes 
 looming on the horizon. For all Marsh s prosaic turn, and 
 oddly at variance with it, there must have been a sort of re 
 serve fund of restlessness, enterprise, and desire of adventure 
 within him. It may be that is what beguiled him over-seas 
 
WE HEAR A LITTLE ANCIENT HISTORY 61 
 
 in the beginning. Whatever feeling moved him, it was some 
 thing that could no longer be satisfied by his real-estate, 
 mortgage-and-loan activities in New York; and it is strange 
 to behold this hard, resolute, acute, and thorough man of 
 business, uninfluenced by boyish dreams or illusions, deliber 
 ately handing over all that he had worked so steadily to 
 gain into the power of an always problematical deputy and 
 departing, serene of mind, upon a hazard of new fortunes. 
 When Burke got to know him well enough, he once ventured 
 to probe him with a question or two about this action. "I 
 wonder, Mr. Marsh," said Nathan, "that you had the hardi 
 hood to intrust your business to anybody but yourself and 
 walk off to New Orleans with a bag of money to see what 
 could be done there. The whole thing might have gone up 
 the chimney in the time it took to send a letter in those days. 
 Didn t it ever occur to you that your partner might ? An 
 honest man makes terribly costly mistakes sometimes, and a 
 dishonest one with such opportunities !" The old fellow 
 shifted his tobacco, eying his questioner, and spat into one 
 of the three-cornered wooden boxes filled with white sand or 
 sawdust that were kept about the store for that purpose. 
 "No, I never worried," he said; "you see, Nat, I d picked the 
 right man." 
 
 With the advantage of added years, experience, and a much 
 larger capital Marsh did as well in New Orleans as he had in 
 New York, although from the first he had no great liking 
 for either the climate or the conditions. "Your money come 
 pretty near too easy," Burke has heard him say. "People 
 lived high, made a lot, spent a lot. It s that way all over the 
 South. I lived in all about ten years there, but I never liked 
 it never liked it. I got out quick as I heard they were 
 opening the Northwest Territory and going to make States 
 out of it. I wouldn t ever advise any young man to go South 
 to live. Oh, I don t say but what it s a good place to make 
 money in to trade to, you know. I ve done considerable 
 of that in my time, sending flatboats down the river. Steam 
 navigation s about knocked all that business into a cocked 
 hat, though, nowadays. You can send your goods down just 
 the same, but the freight charges are so much higher there 
 ain t the profits in it there used to be. A whole fleet of flat- 
 boats hardly cost you anything in those days. Everybody s 
 
62 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 got a kind of rage for hurry, now. 1 You mark my words, 
 the minute these railroads get good and going and it won t 
 take long the minute that happens, then the whole canal- 
 boat trade will go to glory! That s my judgment, sir, and I 
 ain t often mistaken. I ve sold out what I held in the Miami 
 and the Erie for that very reason no use waiting till the 
 bottom falls out of em. The other fellow can do that and 
 then scoot around and scare up a buyer for his stock if he 
 can; I ll salt my money away somewhere else. Now the 
 South hasn t got any railroads or any canals, either; they 
 think down there that this steamboat traffic on the Missis 
 sippi is going to last em till the end of time. It won t. It 
 won t. Not if I know anything about it. You let some 
 fellow with a little get-up-and-get come along and go to 
 building a railroad or two, and where ll your steamboat be ? 
 It s looking a good ways ahead, but it s bound to come. Only 
 thing is, they re slow down there that s what I couldn t 
 stand when I lived there they re slow and they re fairly 
 et up with niggers. That s why I say South s no place for a 
 young man. Make your money off em if you want to, but 
 don t live there." 
 
 Mr. Marsh s own career bore out his theories. He turned 
 his attention chiefly to the sugar and cotton markets while 
 in New Orleans, and I believe made the bulk of his fortune 
 there, coming away towards 1810 a much wealthier man 
 than when he had arrived a decade earlier. This too, de 
 spite the fact that after having been two or three years in the 
 city and observing a number of good opportunities, he had, 
 acting with his customary promptness and decision, written 
 to a younger brother in Bristol, paid his passage out, and set 
 him up in business at a heavy outlay which, by the way, he 
 never entirely recovered perhaps never expected to re 
 cover. George was reputed a hard man, yet he was a good 
 son, a good brother. I have seen some of the letters he wrote 
 the family a patriarchal English family of at least a dozen 
 children whom he left behind in Bristol. They are kind, 
 blunt missives ; he sent them money ; he made them presents : 
 Virginia tobacco, New England rum, and maple-sugar, a 
 pair of white doeskin moccasins embroidered with beads and 
 
 1 These words of wisdom were probably uttered about the year 
 1840. What would old Marsh say now? 
 
WE HEAR A LITTLE ANCIENT HISTORY 63 
 
 colored quills that he got of some Indian trader in what dusky 
 wigwam of the wilderness for a little sister Sukey, of whom he 
 was very fond. The child died in a consumption before 
 these trifles reached her a tragedy sad by its very little 
 ness. The family seem to have taken this liberality as their 
 due; there is generally some one member of a connection 
 playing Providence for all the rest. They accepted George s 
 offerings and asked for more, told him their debts and dis 
 tresses, reminded him of all the birthdays and weddings, 
 thanked him and prayed for his welfare in good set terms. 
 And followed his mandates with tolerable faithfulness con 
 sidering the distance of a thousand leagues or so from whence 
 he issued them. In no one of their letters, not even his wid 
 owed mother s, have I been able to discover a single refer 
 ence to his coming home; nor does he ever seem to have 
 looked forward to a return and reunion himself. It was not 
 long after his mother s death, when the family, what with 
 marriages and other deaths, seemed to be about to disin 
 tegrate, as families do, that George wrote to his brother Walter, 
 suggesting the young man s journey to America. Walter 
 came pliably enough; and it must have been a strange meet 
 ing. The brothers had not seen each other for twenty years; 
 Walter was a mere child when George left home. Were they 
 pleased, surprised, disappointed ? Old George, in later years, 
 rarely referred to his brother, and then with a certain toler 
 ance or negligence quite unconscious, I am sure as if he 
 might have been speaking of a child. He was so much older 
 than the other, and of so essentially different a character and 
 experience, that they could not in nature have been compan 
 ions. Perhaps George found it unexpectedly difficult to hold 
 Walter up to his standards of business energy; he may have 
 discovered in his junior occasional obliquities and weaknesses 
 for which, in his harsh judgment, there was no excuse. It is 
 undeniable that W. MARSH, PRODUCE AND COMMISSION, the 
 concern that started out with so fine a flourish, would have 
 gone to the wall half a dozen times but for George s money, 
 his clear head, his quick and vigorous action. It was not 
 long before George Marsh, who had not lived and labored to 
 the age of forty without becoming pretty conversant with 
 men and the world at large, relegated his brother to a shelf 
 of ample salary and almost no duties, "picked out the right 
 
64 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 man," according to his habit, for the management of the 
 produce-and-commission business and turned his own eyes 
 to the great Northwest Territory and the new fields. He 
 wearied of the lotos, this hardy Ulysses, stable of purpose 
 among all his wanderings. Gladly he resigned to Walter 
 that pursuit of making money too easily or of spending 
 it more easily still, for which the younger man had exhibited 
 such an aptitude. George did not commit the mistake of 
 supposing that he had enlisted Walter s gratitude and affec 
 tion by his generous provision; he knew better. That is a 
 brave soul that can support the sense of obligation nobly. 
 Do you and I like the man we owe ? Would we not rather a 
 thousand times he owed us, no matter what our loss and 
 inconvenience ? And am I grateful or am I only anxious to 
 pay him off and be done with him ? Of all the fantastic masks 
 wherein humanity delights to trick itself, I think that Grati 
 tude and Benevolence wear the most ironic face. Here lies 
 Lazarus at my gate a painful sight, for I am a compassion 
 ate creature. Faugh! Take the poor wretch up, see to his 
 sores, feed him, shelter and comfort him, not alone that he 
 may suffer less, but that I may sleep a little better. Do you 
 wonder that he is not always grateful ? The fact is that Laz 
 arus, being whole once more, is ashamed of the ditch, and the 
 doorstep, and the curs that licked him. He would be as well 
 pleased never to see me again who put him in mind of his 
 degradation; he wants, naturally enough, to pay me out and 
 go his way and forget that miserable hour. 
 
 Walter may have chafed under the burden of George s 
 liberality, but he never made any effort towards discharging 
 that account ; and, after all, George had taken the respon 
 sibility of transplanting his brother and in conscience he 
 should bear the costs. Unlike his senior, Walter took very 
 kindly to the semi-tropic heats, the linen clothes, the Panama 
 straws, the juleps, the gumbos, the dazzlingly pretty girls, 
 and fire-eating gallants of his adopted country. Walter 
 was a good-looking and highly ornamental young man, a 
 dandy, a great beau. In a society where perhaps birth and 
 pedigree counted more than in any other city on the conti 
 nent, it was particularly easy to believe the report mysteri 
 ously spread abroad shortly after his arrival that he was the 
 banished scion of some illustrious house, instead of the fifth 
 
WE HEAR A LITTLE ANCIENT HISTORY 65 
 
 or sixth son of an honest green-grocer of Bristol. And if that 
 did not exactly account for his brother George, it was also 
 quite easy to believe that the name and relationship, for some 
 romantic reason, were alike a blind. Even George himself 
 never denied it. He used to grin diabolically, watching his 
 brother cringe and change color when these stories were 
 hinted at in their joint presence. "Ask him, he ll tell you," 
 he would say. "Isn t it strange how such a tale should 
 have got around ? Ask him, sir; I know my place; I ain t 
 going to tell tales out o school. / can t say anything 
 but, honestly now, d ye think we look much alike?" In 
 fact, George, who was ten or twelve years older than the 
 other, who wore a coat five seasons behind the fashion, who 
 chewed tobacco, who sometimes went unshaved for days, who 
 tied his neckcloth like a halter and was sadly indifferent to 
 the state of his wristbands and finger-nails, who shunned the 
 society of women and was only too ready with an oath or a 
 foul word honest, coarse, hard-headed, bargain-driving 
 George showed no sort of resemblance to Walter, than whom 
 a finer young gentleman never existed. The institution of 
 slavery appeared to him extremely beneficial to all parties 
 concerned, whereas George, for sundry utilitarian reasons, 
 disapproved of it. One of Walter s earliest acts was to pro 
 vide himself with a lively and well-trained body-servant, for 
 whom George paid fourteen hundred dollars, getting a slight 
 discount at that. George owned no slaves himself ; he 
 knotted his unspeakable cravat with his own hands; his 
 boots went unblacked why not ? He could afford to 
 please himself, and we may imagine that Walter many a time 
 viewed with envy that slattern independence. Riches and 
 poverty can do as they choose; it is the middleman that 
 must keep up an appearance. I knew a millionnaire once that 
 wore a straw hat all winter! If I should try it, my friends 
 would have me in the poor-house the next day. George was 
 not a millionnaire, but there was plenty of money in the 
 pockets of those soiled, shiny, old drab breeches, and Walter 
 lived on him, and disliked him, and was afraid of him in 
 true brotherly fashion. 
 
 Some time in 1805 Walter married. He married Cornelia, 
 second daughter of Daniel Patrick, Esquire of Avoyelles 
 Parish, Louisiana. George, who was away in the North at 
 
66 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 the time of the wedding (a good deal to Walter s relief), pro 
 fessed to regard the match as a prodigious stroke of business. 
 " Three hundred niggers! By damn, Walt s done better 
 than I looked for!" he said with a sardonic relish; "trouble 
 is, it s a whaling big family and there won t be so much apiece 
 when the slaves and the plantation come to be divided up 
 among em. However, they ll always have a roof over their 
 heads and a belly-full of victuals, anyhow." Such was Mr. 
 Marsh s enlightened attitude towards the holy estate of 
 matrimony. He relaxed somewhat upon meeting the bride, 
 who was a pretty, gentle, fond, young creature. "I I hope 
 you ll be happy with Walter, my dear," he said, holding her 
 timid little hand awkwardly; " tain t all roses, you know - 
 a person s got to take the world as it comes. Don t be afraid 
 of me I m kind of rough, I reckon, but you won t see me 
 often. Here s a little something to buy knick-knacks with. 
 Name one of the babies Sukey, will you?" Little Mrs. 
 Walter shrunk from him in spite of his gruff kindness; she 
 clung to her Walter whom she thought the handsomest, 
 cleverest, most noble man in the world, and wondered how he 
 could have such a brother. Was it true that Walt was really 
 the son of the Earl of Langham and his name not Marsh at 
 all, and George only his father s factor ? Walter hushed her 
 questions with a mystic smile. But that story survives yet 
 among some of their numerous descendants, and will probably 
 be in circulation on the Day of Doom. 
 
 George Marsh, in accordance with his prediction, was not 
 a frequent visitor at his brother s house. Walter never 
 could have been much at ease in his company, and more than 
 likely Mrs. Walter found it hard to endure his slovenly habits, 
 his coarse manners, the overbearing style in which he some 
 times addressed her precious Walter, who was too generous 
 1 and too thoroughly a gentleman ever to resent it. George 
 meant well, George had a kind heart, she knew that, but, 
 mercy ! George understood her; her little patient or 
 patronizing airs moved him at once with a cynical amuse 
 ment and a kind of pity. I have no doubt he had his hours 
 of lonesomeness and longing, this middle-aged, unlovely 
 sceptic; he would have liked a little affection, this shaggy 
 bug-bear, under whose eyes the negro servants trembled, 
 flying about their work with a frantic energy. His brother s 
 
WE HEAR A LITTLE ANCIENT HISTORY 67 
 
 little girls received his presents in awestruck silence, or were 
 made to thank Uncle George in neat, cut-and-dried speeches; 
 they never dreamed of loving him, and he was by far too much 
 of a philosopher to expect it. When these weak desires as 
 sailed him, he probably shut them out of his heart, and turned 
 with a greater zest to his desk and ledgers. Nobody knew 
 how much George was worth by this time; indeed he went 
 North for good five or six years after the marriage, and 
 thenceforward was seldom seen in New Orleans. He settled 
 himself (permanently at last) in Ohio, took up land right and 
 left, bought, sold, loaned, borrowed, turned his dollars about 
 and about, shrewd, confident, and successful as always. The 
 second war with Great Britain came on, passed over with a 
 financial panic, a wake of hard times, yet left George Marsh 
 unscathed. The last visit he made to the South was in 1817, 
 after his brother s death, when he went to settle up Walter s 
 affairs, which were in a very involved state. " They d about 
 run through everything," he told Burke years twenty-five 
 years afterwards in one of his moments of confidence ; 
 "I saved what I could out of the muddle for Cornelia, but it 
 was so little she thinks to this day that Brother George 
 Hook advantage. She couldn t tell what was being done, 
 and she only knows they always lived very handsomely and 
 had everything they wanted, and it was certainly very strange 
 that when poor Walt died, Brother George should come along 
 and take charge of everything and presently tell her there 
 wasn t anything left ! Of course I took advantage 
 that s how I made my money, taking advantage, hey? 
 Lord love you, Nathan Burke, that s what a man gets for 
 being saving and upright and industrious and careful. I m a 
 rich man, and Walter died, and when I wound up his affairs, 
 the widow and orphans didn t get anything therefore I 
 fleeced em. Logical, ain t it? I set him up in business 
 and kept him going for years and here I am rolling in 
 money and he was fairly smothered with debts so, of course, 
 I must have cheated him. That follows, don t it? I pay 
 my debts and work hard and live straight and my neighbor 
 trusts me because I ve always treated him square so it s 
 perfectly natural for me to turn around and skin my own 
 brother s children oh, yes ! By God, they wanted to have 
 a funeral that would have cost a thousand dollars, and the 
 
68 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 very shirt Walt died in wasn t paid for. I ll bet there wasn t 
 a loan-shark in N Orleans I didn t dicker and jaw into some 
 kind of compromise and if I hadn t, where d they have 
 been ? On the county, sir ! Cornelia s relatives couldn t 
 do a thing for her they were all in the same box together 
 
 nice, pleasant, good-looking, easy-going lot you couldn t 
 trust with money any more than you could a child. They 
 didn t like me Lord, no! But, by damn, sir, they found 
 me mighty convenient. Oh, well, you can t blame a woman 
 
 what do they know about it ? Cornelia knows at the 
 bottom of her heart that I ve done pretty well by her and the 
 girls; likely she thinks it s because I m kind of remorseful. 
 But they know I ve done what was right by em in the long 
 run. They ain t any of em mercenary at least they ain t 
 conscious of it they do their best to be kind and civil to 
 me. They think Uncle George is a pretty rough customer, 
 and if I was a poor old man and had to be taken care of, they 
 wouldn t be fighting for the job but they d do it, in the 
 end. They re all right; their hearts are in the right place. 
 Most peoples are, Nat, most peoples are. Almost every 
 body does what s right. You d rather, you know, even if 
 you got the little end of the bargain by it. Cornelia and the 
 girls just think it ain t very nice to have me round spitting 
 tobacco-juice all over their nice new carpets what d ye 
 call em Wilton ? But they ain t really mercenary 
 they d just about as lief have my money as not, but they 
 ain t sitting around waiting for me to die. Tain t many 
 people that are as mean as that. No, they ain t mercenary 
 only I bet ther d have been hell to pay if I d ever wanted to 
 get married ho, ho!" 
 
 Old George told the bare truth when he said (very simply 
 and with no notion of vaunting himself) that he had done 
 well by his brother s children. He would have brought 
 them all North and made a home for them if the poor widow 
 had not tragically insisted on going back to her mother on the 
 Avoyelles plantation. He sent the girls to school; he pro 
 vided them handsomely with clothes, trinkets, pocket-money; 
 he had them North regularly every summer and took them 
 on delightful jaunts even as far as Philadelphia and New 
 York; and gave them royal presents as they successively 
 married. It is doubtful whether they would have fared as 
 
WE HEAR A LITTLE ANCIENT HISTORY 6& 
 
 well had their father lived. All the girls married absurdly 
 young according to present-day ideas; and, as they were a 
 prolific race the family with these ramifications is scattered 
 widely up and down all our Southern States. The oldest 
 daughter was the only one of them who married in the North, 
 having met William Ducey while on one of their visits to 
 Uncle George. The old man never interposed any advice 
 about these matches. "It s a kind of hit-or-miss business 
 anyhow, marrying," was his philosophic creed; and it is 
 only fair to say that they all turned out very well all but 
 one, that is. 
 
 It was several years before Burke, who was not troubling 
 his head much at that time about the Marshes and their 
 affairs, learned what Mrs. Cornelia Marsh and all her family 
 considered the ghastly circumstances of Cornelia the young- 
 er s marriage. They kept poor little Francie s parentage as 
 secret as if there had been something disgraceful about it; 
 and it happened that Mr. Marsh was the person who en 
 lightened Nathan by casually mentioning some of the facts 
 in the course of talk one day. It never would have entered 
 into old George s mind that the subject was one either to be 
 avoided or gossiped over; he was without affectations; and 
 I have forgot now what led him to refer to it. "Connie 
 my niece, Cornelia, Francie s mother, you know was the 
 prettiest one of the girls," he said; "just about set her mother 
 wild when she run off and married an actor. So far as I 
 know he was a decent enough fellow and treated Connie 
 right. But they ve always had a great notion of family, and 
 I guess Cornelia had looked pretty high for Connie - 
 wanted her to marry some rich planter s son, likely she 
 might have been a heap worse off. I m a plain man myself - 
 I don t go much on family. Only objection I could see to it 
 was that actors are a kind of shiftless, hand-to-mouth set, and 
 Connie mightn t have had a very comfortable time of it. 
 She didn t live to find out, poor girl ! They both died within 
 a week of each other of the fever, you know down there 
 in N Orleans the summer of 29 or 30, I forget which. 
 They d only been married a year or so and just had the one 
 little girl. Ducey was in business down there and not doing 
 very well, either, betwixt you and me and the post. His wife 
 got scared, and you know when Anne Ducey s got her head 
 
70 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 set, Burke, there ain t anybody can do a thing with her; the 
 fever got pretty bad, and she just made Ducey pack up and 
 let the business go to pelhenny and took her own baby and 
 little Francie and cleared out for Ohio and Uncle George. 
 Young man, what did I tell you? The South ain t any 
 place to live ml" 
 
CHAPTER VI 
 RES ANGUSTA DOMI 
 
 IF Nathan had known what was within those letters of 
 Mrs. Ducey s which he so carefully carried to the post for 
 her, he might possibly, even at that early date, have felt 
 the same twitch of amusement with which he read them in 
 after days. We may not want our valets to think us heroes, 
 but let no man disregard his servant s opinion of him or 
 suppose that he permits himself no criticisms. If all the 
 hirelings could get the public ear and valorously tell all they 
 know and have seen, what a destruction of reputations there 
 would be, and what a reversal of sentiment ! In six weeks 
 Nat, who was only a boy and not an unusually gifted boy 
 at that, or any way more astute than others, knew Mrs. 
 Ducey with a perfect thoroughness and certainty, whereas she 
 knew him not at all. In fact, the idea that a hired man 
 could have a character other than the marketable one for 
 honesty and sobriety would have struck her as a laughable 
 novelty, in the way of theories. Perhaps if he had been a 
 woman, Nathan, like the other maidservants, would not have 
 remained long in the Ducey household; but belonging to 
 the opposite sex he very soon unconsciously adopted towards 
 Mrs. Anne the attitude of her husband, her uncle, every man 
 with whom she came in contact an attitude of humorous 
 and affectionate tolerance. Her prettiness delighted the 
 senses; her unreasonableness tickled infinitely; there was 
 to the masculine mind something amusingly womanly and 
 winning in her sweet-tempered obstinacy; she was so anxious 
 to be kind one forgot that she was not in the least humane. 
 What man ever lived who demanded that a woman should 
 be logical ? What man ever seriously resented a woman s 
 tyrannies? Here I sit who have paraded at the head of 
 armies and issued centurion s orders, here I most abjectly 
 sit, a petticoat-governed man, and care not who knows it ! 
 My daughter commands me to eat oatmeal porridge which 
 
 71 
 
72 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 I abhor but do I rebel? Not I. I sit down and eat it ! 
 I swathe myself in loathed woollens, I swallow quarts of 
 abominable physic at her behest. Unquestionably I wouldn t 
 do it for my son; I would invite him with much forcible 
 language to mind his business and let me alone. My son 
 and I would have a more peaceable house, but would it be so 
 happy ? I think not. My daughter would endure tortures, 
 she would lie through thick and thin to save me from an en 
 tirely just and merited punishment but she wouldn t trust 
 me with the brandy bottle ! Yet she knows me to be a tem 
 perate man, she believes with all her heart and soul that I 
 am a gentleman. She stoutly supports the theory that her 
 father is the greatest warrior, statesman, jurist that ever 
 existed and then she reads the old fellow lectures becom 
 ing to an audience of fifteen-year-old children. I fear they 
 fall on unfruitful soil, like some of those Nat Burke used to 
 receive from Mrs. Ducey, forty odd years ago. 
 
 The boy always tried to listen respectfully; he cut the 
 grass, he rubbed the harness, he groomed the horses to the 
 best of his ability, feeling first surprise, then perhaps a little 
 resentment, and then a profound and lasting amusement 
 at Mrs. Ducey s painstaking supervision. She stung his 
 pride to the quick, yet for the soul of him Nathan could not 
 be angry with her. There was, after all, something attrac 
 tively free and fearless in her absurd bullying, her supreme 
 confidence that she was always in the right; a certain 
 strength of character showed through all her suspicion and 
 stubbornness. Nathan, who could not have understood 
 any of these fine phrases at the time, nevertheless obscurely 
 felt their meaning. He used to observe the Marys, Susans, 
 Bridgets, who filed in and out of the Ducey kitchen, some 
 angry and impudent, some forlorn, bewildered, futilely pro 
 testing, with a puzzled wonder. Why was it that none of 
 them could get along with Mrs. Ducey ? He had no trouble. 
 She why, she didn t mean anything you just had to 
 know how to take her. And look how kind and good she 
 was if you were sick or hurt yourself or anything. These 
 arguments, when he occasionally advanced them, were with 
 out effect; one and all, the cooks and chambermaids turned 
 on him with helpless fury. What did he know about it - 
 nothing but a boy. They wouldn t be talked to that way 
 
RES ANGUSTA DOMI 73 
 
 by Mrs. Ducey, talked to as if they was as if they was 
 they was respectable girls, they wouldn t go for to do any 
 such thing as Mrs. Ducey said they did. They were doing 
 their best, and everything can t always be right, and they 
 hadn t any more idea where her silver pickle-tongs was than 
 the man in the moon, and it was the first time they had ever 
 burned anything, and they worked hard, and they never 
 slapped Georgie in the world, he told a big story when he 
 said they did, and indeed you may talk your head off, Eliza, 
 for all the good it ll do you, she ll just say "H m!" And 
 oh, shut up, Nathan, you ain t nothing but a boy! Heavens, 
 how many of these shabby little dramas did Nat witness ! 
 They passed over without leaving much impression on him; 
 he supposed all feminine households were the same; it was 
 in the nature of women shut up in the house together all day 
 long to squabble, he opined. When, as sometimes happened, 
 his employer surreptitiously stole out and bestowed on the 
 departing ones kind words and a little extra money, the 
 boy viewed that proceeding with utter contempt. If Ducey 
 was going to let his wife run things, he ought to let her, Nat 
 thought in his sharp, boyish judgment; he could not under 
 stand why, if Ducey disapproved of these domestic changes, 
 he allowed them and compounded with the sufferers after 
 this feeble fashion. Nat forgot the peace-at-any-price 
 policy that often controlled his own relations with Mrs. Anne. 
 He only saw that Ducey loved his wife, petted her, gave in 
 to her, teased, played with, and spoiled her, as no man should 
 a grown sensible woman and in spite of all, Nathan 
 thought the gray mare was the better horse. The boy, 
 from the detachment of his position, saw with the uncanny 
 clearness of vision belonging to his years that there was 
 something at once foolish and wrong-headed in William 
 Ducey s attitude towards his wife. Anne had enough of 
 character, of heart, of good sound sense; she need not be 
 treated like a child. William alternately lavished money 
 on her and complained about the bills, scolded her, made 
 fun of her, offered her amends with presents, flowers, gim- 
 cracks, bonbons, toys for Georgie, and what-not. By turns 
 he was master in his own house and slave; whereas Anne, 
 at least, was a consistent despot. Her mind and methods 
 were alike direct; she had her way by force and arms, with 
 
74 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 no thought of evasion or compromise, the ordinary feminine 
 arts being entirely unknown to her. She never persuaded, 
 she commanded, equally tactless and truthful. She loved 
 and admired her husband beyond measure; she was not at 
 all vain, but she delighted in being pretty for his sake, and 
 would spend hours dressing her hair, or prinking before her 
 mirror, to please him. All her tyranny was exerted solely 
 to make his home comfortable and happy; she had a spirit 
 so willing, so gay, so generous, and lovable it was a shame 
 to make a baby of her. But fifteen years of married life had 
 accomplished that end as nearly as possible with a character 
 intrinsically so strong as Mrs. Ducey s; and Nathan him 
 self joined in the conspiracy. 
 
 William Ducey at this time was a tall, slender, rather 
 Byronic-looking gentleman, extremely pale or sallow, with 
 a kind of melancholy distinction about him, which, in spite 
 of his wife s fond pride, was, as it were, quite without founda 
 tion. Yes, appearances and Mrs. Ducey to the contrary 
 notwithstanding, William was a very everyday mortal of 
 an amiable, easy-going disposition, upright and kind-hearted 
 and without especial talents in any direction. He had 
 thick, black, and shining hair which he was exceedingly par 
 ticular about keeping well oiled and in a great state of curl ; 
 a neat and I daresay tolerably expensive taste in waist 
 coats; and a perfectly unromantic wholesale-grocery business 
 downtown. WILLIAM DUCEY & Co. flourished in gilt letters 
 above the door: and, at short intervals, there appeared in 
 the Journal, according to the naive custom of our day, 
 advertisements of " goods now unloading and for sale," or 
 "rec d per late arrivals: 
 
 50 Drums Codfish: 
 20 Tierces Rice: 
 . 13 Casks Winter Sperm Oil: 
 100 Bbls. Molasses: 
 80 Bags Pimento: 
 60 Bales Sisal Hemp: 
 12 Boxes Assorted Fruits : 
 5 do; do; Havana Sweetmeats," etc. 
 
 In the course of time Nathan, journeying thither almost 
 daily on the household errands, became pretty intimate in 
 
RES ANGUSTA DOMI 75 
 
 this establishment. A staff of active young clerks, some 
 of them no older than himself, officiated amongst the spices, 
 sugars, and sacks of coffee, the Sisal Hemp, and all the rest 
 of it. Mr. Ducey presided in a grimy little office, divided 
 off at the rear of the long warehouse by a high wooden par 
 tition with panes of window-glass let into the upper third of 
 it for extra light. But did Mr. Ducey preside ? There he 
 always sat enthroned at his desk in a majestic pose of busi 
 ness absorption, surrounded by bill-files and heaped papers; 
 but Nat had a suspicion strengthened by the nods, winks, 
 grins, and obscure jokes of the shirt-sleeved brigade in front 
 that this section of the premises was really the den and 
 stronghold of Co. Co., who sported a mangy old brown 
 beaver hat and an old blue broadcloth tail-coat, white at all 
 the seams, with the brass edges of its huge buttons cutting 
 through the stuff that covered them; Co., who was not at 
 all fastidious about his bristling stiff white hair, whose 
 striped satinet waistcoat was furrowed with trenches filled 
 with powdered tobacco, who went like as not with the straps 
 burst under his soiled old cassimere breeches, and trailing 
 about his instep; Co., who got down an hour earlier than 
 anybody else in the morning, and stayed to see the shutters 
 up at night; who looked over the balance-sheet every month, 
 every week, every day for what I know, cursing and growl 
 ing and whistling under his breath ; who knew the name and 
 amount of sales of every clerk in the place; whose little 
 sharp old eyes beneath their heavy brows missed nothing that 
 went on from the top floor to the cellar Co., who, in short, 
 was known outside these precincts and to society at large 
 by the style and title of Mr. George Marsh. Any hour of the 
 day you might hear him behind his fastnesses, expounding 
 some point of trade in his coarse, strong, deliberate voice 
 from which fifty years of America had eliminated every 
 trace of British accent or pronunciation, to a customer, 
 perhaps even to Ducey himself. It was not a pleasant voice, 
 nor was his at all a pleasing personality, but the sound and 
 presence of this old man inspired confidence and a certain 
 enthusiasm of industry; if those young clerks feared him, 
 they also liked him; they respected his power, his success. 
 They all knew or suspected that Marsh s money had founded 
 and was backing DUCEY & Co., though upon what terms, 
 
76 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 they could, of course, only guess. The head book-keeper 
 used to deliver himself quite freely to Nathan in moments 
 of privacy when Ducey had gone home to dinner and Co. 
 had repaired to his midday meal at the Erin-go-Bragh 
 coffee-house, up High Street a little way, and just across 
 from the Court-house. 
 
 " Yah! Ducey! Why, he don t amount to a hill o beans," 
 this devoted servitor would remark, tilting his chair to the 
 rear legs, and propping his heels on Ducey s august desk; 
 " Marsh is the backbone of this business and I do the figger- 
 ing that don t leave much room for Ducey, I guess. 
 Where does he come in, hey ? When one of your farmer 
 friends comes in for a trade, who does the talking ? Ducey ? 
 Not by a long shot, he don t. It s Marsh. When he wants 
 to know anything, who does he ask ? Ducey ? No, sirr-ee. 
 He turns to me and says: Quilldriver, what price did we 
 make Laughlin Bros, on that last lot o mess pork seventy 
 barrels, wasn t it ? You bet he knows, too. He s got it 
 figgered down to a jay-bird s toe. If I ever start in business 
 for myself - 
 
 And so on, and so forth, thus Mr. Quilldriver not his 
 name, by the way, but in truth I cannot remember it, and 
 have only in mind a vivid picture of this sprightly young 
 gentleman and most expert accountant, with a pen behind 
 his ear, cleaning his nails at leisure with a pearl-handled 
 knife the while he holds agreeable converse with Nat Burke, 
 who perhaps has come for a portion of those "5 do; do; 
 Havana Sweetmeats" and is waiting for it to be weighed 
 and tied up. "Course you don t want to go blatting this all 
 over town," says the book-keeper, warningly; "but you 
 ain t much on the talk, Nat, and that s the reason I m tell 
 ing you I wouldn t talk like this to everybody and any 
 body, understand?" Wouldn t you, oh, reticent Mr. Quill 
 driver ? Nat was one of the somewhat taciturn people in 
 whom, whether he will or no, everybody confides ; I should 
 not care to record all the hopes, fears, plans, complaints, 
 protestations to which he has listened in his time. Some feel 
 ing of loyalty withheld him from airing his own views about 
 his employers to the others ; but he could not close his ears to 
 theirs; the young fellows would talk, and after all they told 
 him nothing but what he knew or had guessed already. 
 
RES ANGUSTA DOMI 77 
 
 Mr. Ducey, in the lofty abstraction of his affairs, rarely 
 noticed Nat s visits to the store and requisitions of soap, 
 tea, starch, sugar, the hundred-and-one items Mrs. Ducey 
 was constantly needing; but old George, for whom no detail 
 of the business was too insignificant, speedily observed him, 
 and, metaphorically speaking, jotted him down in some 
 mental memorandum for future reference. "Is that the 
 Burke boy?" he would bawl out from the back of the store, 
 where, in the intervals of his activity, he would be sprawled 
 in an ancient split-bottomed arm-chair, reading a trade 
 journal, or making calculations with a scrap of paper and a 
 pencil-stub on the back of his greasy pocket-book. There 
 was absolutely no need for the old man s industry and appli 
 cation; he had reached an age when most men would have 
 been content to take their ease with so large a fortune as he 
 had amassed. But work was the breath of his nostrils; to 
 match his wits and will against those of other men his only 
 recreation. You may see many such in the American busi 
 ness world; and there is something not far from pathetic 
 in the spectacle of our commercial veterans spirited in har 
 ness to the end, so gallant in work, so touchingly helpless 
 and awkward in play. By way of taking his one and only 
 relaxation, old George, when trade was dull, would sometimes 
 come out from his sanctum and move about freely among 
 the attentive clerks with whom he would be quite jocose 
 and familiar and you may be sure they listened deferen 
 tially and guffawed at all his jokes, which were frequently 
 pretty high flavored. Nathan, to whom Mr. Marsh had 
 spoken directly only three or four times since the boy first 
 saw him, was not aware of having attracted his attention 
 at all, until the old man stopped in front of him one day as 
 he waited on his errand, and remarked with a grin : 
 
 "You re the boy, I understand, who never says anything 
 but yes m and no m. ; Young man, haven t you got any 
 better manners than that? Don t you ever talk any?" 
 
 "Not unless I ve got something to say/ said Nat, a little 
 surprised. 
 
 The other looked at him with some interest, and turned 
 his quid, staring meditatively. 
 
 "That s right, son, stick to that," he said at last, nodding. 
 " Let the other fellow do the talking if he keeps it up for 
 
78 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 half an hour, he ll tell you what sort of man he is. How old 
 are you?" 
 
 "I ll be seventeen the first of the year/ 7 Nathan told him. 
 
 "You look older. Pretty near got your growth, I guess. 
 What s that you ve got?" 
 
 "It s five pounds of Rio Mrs. Ducey wanted," said Nat, 
 preparing to depart. 
 
 "I don t mean that I mean that book in your side 
 pocket. Give it here," said the old man, bending a sharp 
 glance on him from under his shelving brows. 
 
 "It s a school-book a grammar," said the boy, flushing 
 a little, but meeting the other s eye as he handed over the 
 volume. It had been knocking about in his pocket, so that 
 he might have it handy for reading at odd times, yet was 
 fairly clean and well kept, for Nat had a certain reverence 
 for books, and besides had this not cost a dollar and a half 
 of his monthly wage at Riley s Book-store some three weeks 
 previously? Old Marsh grunted, "Huh!" took the gram 
 mar, which was one of Mr. Murray s, if I recollect aright, and 
 ran a swift eye over it. He returned it with the natural 
 question : 
 
 "Ever gone to school any?" 
 
 "A little when I was a boy when I was a little fellow, 
 I mean," Nat added, smiling himself as he detected a mo 
 mentary twinkle in Mr. Marsh s deep-set eyes. "There 
 wan t there wasn t any district-school near enough for 
 us to go to regular regularly, I mean." 
 
 "Can you figger any?" 
 
 "Not much good at it," said Nathan, taking up his pack 
 age of coffee; and old Mr. Marsh finally allowed him to go. 
 The boy knew that his slight affairs would not occupy the 
 other s mind for long. George Marsh had no time to waste 
 on his niece s hired man; still he felt some anxiety lest the 
 old gentleman should casually mention this occurrence to 
 Mrs. Ducey, and devoutly hoped he would forget all about 
 it. Nat knew instinctively that that lady would consider 
 books or any kind of book-learning the last thing in the world 
 with which her chore-boy should meddle. Murray s Gram 
 mar, indeed! And why wasn t he digging the potatoes, 
 pray tell ? What would she say to Nat s slender battery of 
 knowledge ranged on the little shelf of his stable room, to 
 
RES ANGUSTA DOMI 79 
 
 the blurred copy-books over which he toiled by candle-light, 
 perspiring in the hot summer nights, surrounded by a halo 
 of gnats and moth millers ? From the summit of my years 
 I look down upon him with mingled sympathy and amuse 
 ment. He labors at his pot-hooks and capital-letters with 
 the aid of an unsteady little deal table not large enough to 
 accommodate the ink-bottle and his elbows at the same time. 
 The bottle must be perilously balanced on the corner of the 
 bed, and to this day he will reach and dip the pen with 
 a wary hand, so firmly was that habit established. Once 
 (horror!) Mr. Burke upset it all over the clean patchwork 
 counterpane; a benevolent cook, understanding his fears, 
 washed the stain out for him by stealth may her reward 
 be great! That there is no royal road to learning Nathan 
 could testify by hard experience ; it was bestrewn in his 
 case with the gory remains of dead mosquitoes and other 
 night-flying gentry, for one thing. Yet once his desire was 
 aroused it was in his nature to persevere; and there is this 
 much to say for these late beginners that with ordinary gifts 
 they will learn more thoroughly and apply what they learn 
 with far greater readiness and accuracy than children of the 
 usual age put down to study the same lesson. Almost all 
 the knowledge we acquire before fourteen years or so is 
 purely a mechanical accomplishment a sort of feat of 
 memory and nothing more. No one would advocate putting 
 off a child s schooling until he reaches that age, but Nathan s 
 experience is a living proof that the lost years need not be a 
 serious drawback. There was nothing of the genius about 
 him; he mastered the art of reading, naturally, with greater 
 facility than the other branches, and I remember that his 
 main struggle was with the temptation to do nothing but 
 read to the utter neglect of penmanship, arithmetic, and 
 geography. Even this taste, however, turned to his advan 
 tage, for he was not long in discovering that history which 
 wears so solemn and forbidding a face upon the first ac 
 quaintance is in reality full of interest, action, stirring, and 
 dramatic adventure; and gave himself up to that variety of 
 reading thenceforward with a quiet conscience, although, in 
 deed Plutarch and Gibbon soon lost whatever charm of novelty 
 they had for him; he was obliged to go over his books more 
 than once, not being able to buy many. These solid works 
 
80 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 recalled to his mind for years thereafter not alone the glory 
 that was Greece and the grandeur that was Rome, but the 
 companionable odor of hay and harness-oil from the loft 
 adjoining, and the horses stamping beneath him. 
 
 The young man was right in his estimate of Mrs. Ducey s 
 opinions, as he found out shortly after that interview with 
 her uncle. For, being engaged in cutting the grass one after 
 noon, and pausing to whet his scythe, the gate clicked, and 
 as he looked that way he beheld Mrs. Ducey entering and 
 coming towards him with her usual brisk and alert bearing, 
 beginning to speak as was her habit before she was 
 well within hearing. She had been making visits, I dare 
 say; her fresh, fashionable skirts trailed crisply about her 
 barege, popeline brochee, poult de soie how do I know what 
 they were ? These things are beyond the power of man. Solo 
 mon in all his glory was not arrayed like a well-dressed lady 
 of Nat Burke s young days ; that respectable old Hebrew 
 potentate would have made but a poor showing beside 
 Mrs. Ducey, whose appearance unfailingly commanded all 
 Nathan s admiration. She was so daintily rich and bril 
 liant; rare flowers bloomed on her bonnets; she had all 
 kinds of scarfs, veils, fringes, beads, and glittering trinkets. 
 On this occasion she may have been wearing, for all I know, 
 une robe redingote, faced with velours epingle, ornamented 
 with bouillonnees, or Brandebourgs, or cocardes en choux 
 not that I have any idea what these decorations were. 
 Heaven forbid ! The above morsel of description had come 
 under Nat s eye in the back of an odd number of The Lady s 
 World of Fashion, with a group of simpering, delicately 
 tinted sylphs on the opposite page in illustration, and being 
 in a tongue not understanded of the people had puzzled him 
 not a little. There has always been something very impos 
 ing to Mr. Burke in the spectacle of lovely woman thus 
 attired; he stands tongue-tied in the Presence. And so he 
 stood now, until Mrs. Ducey, with a young lady equally 
 notable of aspect floating in her wake, had reached him. 
 
 " Nathan, I want you to be careful when you cut around 
 the flower-beds. You oughtn t to have begun when I wasn t 
 here to tell you I ve told you that before. Mr. Ducey 
 doesn t like for you to disobey me, Nathan; I m surprised 
 at you " 
 
RES ANGUSTA DOMI 81 
 
 "Mrs. Marsh has been watching me she s up yonder 
 on the porch," said Nat, indicating the elder lady, who, in 
 fact, had been superintending him vigilantly all afternoon. 
 "I guess I couldn t go very far wrong with your mother 
 looking on, Mrs. Ducey," said Nat, soberly. 
 
 " H m ! Mr. Ducey would be very angry if he knew you had 
 disobeyed me, Nathan; you re not to do it again. Is that 
 your coat on the bush? Don t hang it on that syringa; it 
 will break it down, it s so heavy and with that great big 
 book in the pocket, too. Lay it on the ground somewhere. 
 Is that one of your books, Nathan? What do you want 
 with it?" 
 
 "I want it to read, ma am," said Nat, feeling, to his vexa 
 tion, the blood rise in his face. "She oughtn t to talk to me 
 that way before before that young lady before people/ 
 he thought. 
 
 "Oh, yes, I remember now, I heard about your reading. 
 Now don t begin and neglect your work, just to read, 
 Nathan. And don t read that way in your room at night. 
 I m afraid you ll set the stable on fire with your candle 
 
 "I haven t set it on fire with the lantern yet," Nat re 
 minded her. 
 
 "You mustn t answer me back, Nathan," said Mrs. 
 Ducey, very gently and kindly; "that isn t nice, you know. 
 You ll be sure to go to sleep and set the stable on fire with 
 your candle it s very dangerous of course you re just 
 a young boy and you don t think of these things. You can 
 take your book and go somewhere on Sundays when we 
 aren t driving out, or when you have a holiday, but you 
 mustn t dawdle around reading other times. Mr. Ducey 
 wouldn t like it. I m coming, Ma, I m coming. I ve got 
 Mary with me, she s going to stay to tea. What ? Why, I 
 said Mary Mary Sharpless, you know. I made her come 
 home with me. Now mind what I said, Nathan. Mr. Ducey 
 wouldn t like it if he knew you had been idle. Come along, 
 Mary." 
 
 She was halfway to the porch already with the words, 
 moving with her swift step that was yet so sure and graceful, 
 like all her motions; nobody ever saw Mrs. Ducey stumble. 
 Her clear incisive voice carried to the house and street with 
 equal distinctness, and it seemed to Nathan as if the entire 
 
82 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 neighborhood were being advertised of the fact that Ducey s 
 hired man was loafing away his time. It was not true, and 
 the young fellow s face burned under his tan. He turned his 
 eyes from Mrs. Ducey s retreating back, and to his surprise 
 encountered those of her visitor fixed on him. The young 
 lady had not moved to follow her hostess ; she was a young 
 lady of a charming, straight, light, and slender figure; her 
 black hair was modishly arranged in complicated loops and 
 braids, smooth and glossy, as if carved in jet; those eyes 
 which Nat looked down into were not black, however, but 
 very large, soft, and gray, oddly encircled by long heavy 
 black lashes. She smiled up at him to his thrilled bewilder 
 ment. 
 
 " Weren t you whetting your scythe just now ? " (This was 
 the profoundly original [remark she addressed to him.) "I 
 think that s the most skilful thing I often wonder how 
 men do it. You move the whetstone so quick!" 
 
 "It s it s it ain t hard it s easy when you know 
 how/ stammered Nathan. He rested one hand on the top 
 of the blade and manoeuvred the stone with the other in a 
 burst of lightning speed. Miss Mary Sharpless stood in 
 rapt admiration. 
 
 "Let me try/ she said enthusiastically, seizing the tool 
 with her small, elegant hands. Nat was still holding it, but 
 she let it go promptly with a little cry. "Oh, mercy, isn t 
 it heavy ? However can you hold it ? How strong you 
 must be !" 
 
 "This scythe? Why, it s light," said the boy, handling it 
 with elaborate ease. 
 
 " Mary, Mary, aren t you coming ? Ma wants to see you," 
 Mrs. Ducey called from the porch, and Miss Sharpless gave 
 Nat another glance out of her odd and beautiful eyes, and 
 walked away. 
 
 Nathan so far obeyed Mrs. Ducey s injunctions as to 
 neglect Webster and fractions for that one night at any rate; 
 and instead of applying himself, as heretofore, to those musty 
 pursuits he mooned about the remote corners of the yard 
 with a pipe, gradually edging nearer the house from a point 
 whence his tobacco-smoke would drift off down the wind, 
 such was the craft which he had suddenly developed. He 
 saw Mr. Ducey escorting the guest back to her home at an 
 
RES ANGUSTA DOMI 83 
 
 appropriate hour; and being by this time near enough to 
 hear the two other ladies on the porch, got what he deserved, 
 the usual listeners wage. 
 
 "Well, Ma, Will can talk all he pleases, / don t want any 
 literary chore-boys. Of course it s all right for them to know 
 how to read and write everybody ought to know how to 
 do that. But I think it s perfectly absurd all this talk about 
 uplifting and educating that class. They aren t fitted for 
 it, and you just unfit them for their own people and don t make 
 them good enough for ours. It fills their heads full of ideas, 
 and makes them unhappy and useless. Why, just look at 
 the darkies at home; they can t even read and write, and 
 they re as happy as the day is long that just shows. I 
 believe in people staying where the Lord put them to begin 
 with, and not trying to be what He never meant them to be. 
 It s a great pity Nathan s got this crazy notion of reading; 
 he ll get to be perfectly worthless before long." 
 
 Young Burke, in the darkness, uttered a distressingly 
 profane ejaculation; it was the strongest in his vocabulary, 
 and alas! I fear poor Nat s boyish ears had heard much 
 more than was good for them in those honest, hearty, coarse 
 old days. Mrs. Ducey would have run away screaming 
 with her hands to her face, she would have wildly refused to 
 have him around another minute, if she could have seen and 
 heard her hired man at this juncture. Worthless I The 
 words were not intended for his ears, but even if Mrs. Ducey 
 had known he was within hearing, it is to be doubted whether 
 she would have moderated her voice. Come away, my 
 friends, the young gentleman is not a handsome object as 
 he stands there grinding his teeth and cursing in the dark. 
 Let us leave him to his frightful schemes of giving notice 
 the very next day, of getting another job at the foundry, 
 on an Allegheny freight-wagon, a coach, a canal-boat, any 
 thing where people will treat him like a man. By to-mor 
 row morning he will have come out of his temper, he will 
 think of it with ironic mirth. And when Nora whirls out 
 of the dining-room, weeping tears of rage all over the platter 
 of breakfast-bacon and vowing she won t stay here and be 
 talked to like that, there, Nathan will endeavor to soothe 
 her with words of reason. For ourselves, had we not better 
 
84 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 join Mrs. Marsh and Mrs. Ducey on the porch? We may 
 be just in time to hear another speech which Nat caught as 
 he was striding away in a fume to his poor defamed books; 
 it brought him up short, angry as he was. 
 
 "Mary Sharpless?" said Mrs. Ducey; and in answer to 
 something inaudible from her mother, "Oh, yes, she hasn t 
 changed a bit, and never will, if she lives to be a hundred. 
 Didn t you see her actually making eyes at Nathan this 
 afternoon? Mary can t help it; she just can t pass by any 
 thing in trousers." 
 
CHAPTER VII 
 
 IN WHICH IS CONTINUED THE CHRONICLE OP SMALL BEER 
 
 DURING Mr. Burke s term of office the Ducey house per 
 petually overflowed with visitors; they came from New 
 Orleans, from Natchez, from a dozen cities and plantations 
 scattered up and down the Southern States. These troops 
 of guests generally arrived to spend the summer months; 
 in the evenings the Ducey front-steps bloomed with lovely 
 young ladies in flowing white skirts and twinkling necklaces, 
 with dazzling white arms and the most bewitching little feet 
 in tiny satin slippers. All the young men in town would 
 congregate there; there was a prodigious consumption of 
 lemonade and cakes and ices; the elegant square rosewood 
 piano in the parlor would be opened, and two or three of the 
 nymphs would execute thereon various tinkling and trip 
 ping pieces of music entitled " Showers of Pearls," " Roses 
 and Dewdrops," and so on. Some of them could sing, "Isle 
 of Beauty, fare thee well," "Oh, why hast thou taught me 
 to love thee?" "True love can ne er forget," and other of 
 the sentimental ballads then in vogue. They were so sen 
 timental that the Duceys hired man invariably beat a 
 retreat whenever he chanced to stray within the zone of 
 melody; he had not much ear for music, as has been hinted, 
 and all this talk about breaking hearts and gushing tears and 
 golden lutes and sighs and smiles and kisses struck him as 
 lackadaisical bosh ; it made him ashamed by Heavens, 
 it makes him ashamed now ! Even the picture which he 
 sometimes glimpsed through the open windows of shall 
 we say ? : Miss Sharpless, a wreath of pale artificial flowers 
 drooping delicately among her black braids and a low- 
 necked, wide-spreading filmy muslin encompassing her trim 
 figure, with her hands scampering up and down the keys 
 in the accompaniment of another similarly attired virgin 
 even this tableau, which would have moved him ordinarily 
 with an aesthetic delight, could not reconcile him to the 
 
 85 
 
86 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 melancholy foolishness of those songs. He did not see Mary 
 thus occupied very often; she came to the house infrequently, 
 and Nat, with a dumb amazement, overheard Mrs. Ducey 
 explaining to some intimate female caller that Mary Sharp- 
 less was really a little too old for these girls. The young men 
 did not seem to think so, but young men are notoriously bad 
 judges. There was never wanting one of them to bring her 
 to the house of an evening, to take her home, to hang over 
 the piano while she performed astounding trills and varia 
 tions on that reliable instrument. These young bucks were 
 elaborately brushed, scented, and oiled; each one wore a 
 curling lock of hair disposed carefully in the middle of his 
 forehead, and the rest of it waving down over his high velvet 
 coat-collar, glossy, ambrosial ! A single jewelled button 
 glimmered from the midst of his shirt-front; he had glorious 
 plaided, brocaded, ringed, striped, and streaked waistcoats 
 of sumptuous materials, seal-rings to decorate his fingers, 
 slender, natty rattan canes, kid gloves of tender lavender 
 and canary hues. Where are they gone, birds of bright 
 plumage ? Meminisse juvabit ! Nathan Burke who had 
 neither part nor lot with them cannot but recall them 
 with tenderness. He used to look on from afar without 
 envy; he enjoyed the double privilege of a certain intimacy 
 with these gilded youths among the warehouses and offices 
 down town, where their appearance was by no means so 
 gilded, and of beholding the angels of the piazza and draw 
 ing-room at tolerably close range in the earlier hours of the 
 day, when, to tell the truth, their attire and manners were 
 not always nearly so angelic. 
 
 Besides these, there were whole flocks of chirruping young 
 sters; Nat hardly knew them apart, although he was con 
 stantly being called upon to take them out riding by the 
 phaeton-load at once in bouquets of babies, to separate the 
 little boys when they fought, to rescue the little girls from 
 the advances of inquiring ganders and turkey-gobblers. Their 
 mothers were forever running with screams to pluck them 
 out of the hot sunshine like brands from the burning; if 
 Nathan had carried out all the anxious orders he received to 
 keep them away from the stable, the beehives, the well, 
 the grindstone, he would have done nothing else. But in 
 fact he never meddled with them unless he saw that they 
 
THE CHRONICLE OF SMALL BEER 87 
 
 had ventured into some position of real risk, and then they 
 obeyed him with signal alacrity. " We were all afraid of you, 
 Nat," one of them told him long afterwards; "we were afraid 
 of you, you were so long and lean and quick, you had such 
 a thin, hook nose and such sharp blue eyes. I saw you shoot 
 a hawk once that had swooped down and snatched up a 
 chicken. You did it with your rifle, and the hawk fell down 
 dead in the middle of the yard, shot through its murderous 
 hawk heart, and the hen wasn t hurt after all. You skinned 
 the hawk and nailed the skin up, spread eagle fashion on the 
 barn-door, do you remember ? Afterwards we children used 
 to pretend that you came down every night and wrapped 
 up in the skin and feathers and went sailing sailing 
 through the sky like a hawk yourself. Some of us half be 
 lieved it. The darky nurses at home had filled us full of 
 spooks and bogies and savage fancies. How long were you 
 here ? A year ? Two years ? I remember when we came 
 back one summer there was another hired man, and you were 
 gone and the hawkskin, too. Of course you had taken it 
 with you were- wolf ! " 
 
 Nathan used to hear the maidservants making loud moan 
 about the extra work Mrs. Ducey s " company" entailed; 
 but dissatisfaction in that quarter was so common as to be 
 scarcely noticeable. His own duties were not much heavier; 
 the children minded him, and he looked upon them with 
 much the same tolerance as upon the household pets, Fran- 
 cie s kittens, or George s rabbits. It is in the nature of small 
 boys to follow and ape a big boy, so that when the little fel 
 lows besieged him with entreaties to let them "hitch up" 
 or turn the grindstone, to take them swimming, take them 
 fishing, take them hunting, Nat, sympathizing with the 
 universal boyish desires, sometimes complied when the 
 mothers would hear of it. Once, towards the close of his 
 second year with the Duceys, he even took Georgie on a 
 shooting expedition, after that young gentleman had pes 
 tered his parents, or rather his mother, into giving consent 
 no one thought of asking Nathan s. To do him justice 
 it was not often that George sought the hired man s society, 
 being, it is more than likely, in the frame of mind of Doctor 
 Fell s patient who did not fancy that eminent practitioner: 
 the reason why he could not tell, but twas a thing he knew 
 
88 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 full well. George was older than most of the other chil 
 dren whom he played with or teased or bullied, proceedings 
 not unusual among boys, but he had few friends of his own 
 age. Francie would come home from school with a whole 
 battalion of pantaletted and leghorn-bonneted little dames 
 like herself; they had tea-parties under the bushes and 
 played house in the harness-room, when Nathan would let 
 them. George had no companions; the child was sickly, 
 he could not or would not join in the other boys games 
 and enterprises. His mother lauded his obedience; but 
 Nathan had a fancy that George singularly lacked the spirit 
 of adventure. It was impossible to imagine him sneaking 
 off to go in swimming, or skating, or playing hookey for the 
 sake of any kind of sport. These pursuits are very question 
 able; I do not defend them; I agree entirely with the out 
 raged ladies who will clap the book to at this point, loudly 
 denouncing its author for a corrupt old villain, putting ideas 
 into children s heads. I repeat, these crimes cannot be too 
 severely condemned but is there a boy on this turning 
 globe who has not committed them ? Georgie was an exem 
 plary character; he would never rob an orchard or a melon 
 patch in the world; he would share the spoil, but that he 
 should take the risk was inconceivable. He liked very much 
 to be dressed in his little fine white ruffled cambric shirt and 
 linen trousers, which he always kept beautifully clean, and 
 his cap with the shining patent-leather peak; and thus 
 costumed to sit on the front seat of the carriage when Mrs. 
 Ducey went out driving. He did not want to drive himself, 
 he was a little afraid when the horses shied or pranced; but 
 he took undisguised pleasure in instructing Nathan in the 
 art and ordering him about in his mother s presence; he 
 never attempted it elsewhere. It was a long while before he 
 could ride his pony without an evident tremor; but the little 
 animal being well-broken and submissive, Georgie finally 
 overcame his fears, and in time learned to manage it with 
 some degree of skill. He used to canter back and forth be 
 fore his mother and as large an audience as could be gathered 
 on the front porch, sitting up very straight, with his cap 
 cocked ever so slightly over one eye, and his whip and elbows 
 in a rakish, jaunty, dare-devil attitude, which the ladies 
 greatly admired. " Isn t it wonderful how Georgie rides?" 
 
THE CHRONICLE OF SMALL BEER 89 
 
 Mrs. Ducey would remark to them; "it s perfectly natural 
 to him he just picked it right up. He doesn t know what 
 fear is. I think I never saw so perfect a seat on a horse, did 
 you? And you ought to see how he takes care of his horse/ 
 as he calls it. Feeds it and grooms it himself, and beds it 
 down and washes its back simply wonderful for a young 
 boy. They aren t generally so patient and kind to animals, 
 you know." Which last was entirely true and a trait of the 
 boy s character as out of the ordinary as some of his other 
 traits. 
 
 Mrs. Ducey, once having acquiesced in the hunting plan, 
 became more enthusiastic than the boy himself. She sat 
 up till all hours of the night working over a little shooting- 
 jacket for him; there was a tremendous outlay for boots, 
 game-bags, ammunition one would have thought that 
 Georgie, who had never fired a gun in his life, nor seen a live 
 quail, and who knew no more about the backwoods than he 
 did about logarithms, was going to slay his thousands, as, 
 I dare say, his proud and devoted mother imagined he would. 
 She made the lad s father buy him a gun, notwithstanding 
 the fact that one quite good enough for the purpose could 
 have been borrowed in fifty houses of the town, for almost 
 everybody owned some sort of firearms in those days. It 
 was a beautiful double-barrelled English fowling-piece, a 
 Manton, that Mr. Ducey bought, and Nat eyed it longingly 
 when it came home in the handsome leather case provided 
 for it. Georgie enjoyed flourishing the weapon in and out 
 of this case and marching with it in a martial pose on his 
 shoulder much more than he did the practical details of its 
 handling. He looked on indifferently when Nathan showed 
 him how to clean and load it, and when the latter proposed 
 to set up a target in an open field near Willson s Grove and 
 give him a little practice, shrank visibly. Nat himself 
 entertained no high-flown expectations of the delights of this 
 trip. "If he don t shoot me or the dog or somebody s cow, 
 we ll be lucky," he thought with humorous resignation; 
 and exerted himself to prevent Mrs. Ducey from buying a 
 thoroughbred pointer which she ardently desired to do 
 as soon as she heard that a dog was more or less necessary. 
 "Why, I know a young fellow that s got a yearling setter-pup 
 that he d be glad to have me take out and break for him ; 
 
90 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 Mrs. Ducey," argued Nathan; " don t you think it s better 
 to let Georgie go out this once and see how he likes it, and if 
 he does like it, time enough to buy a dog then." She finally 
 yielded, not to Nat s persuasions indeed, no! but upon 
 finding that Georgie also did not warm to the project for 
 some reason. He eagerly assented to everything Nathan 
 said, followed him about, and was laboriously attentive to 
 him these days. 
 
 "Ain t you going to take any gun?" he asked, observing 
 Nat s exceedingly simple preparations; "you can t use mine, 
 you know. That is, I ll let you have it once in a while, but 
 you must mind and be careful with it. You ought to take 
 your own gun why don t you ?" 
 
 "It s no good to shoot quail with," Nathan explained to 
 him. "I ll borrow one of Jake Darnell s, I guess he s 
 got two or three. No use lugging mine fifteen miles out in 
 the country; there aren t any more deer around there to 
 speak of. It s been clean hunted out." 
 
 "What s the matter with your gun that you can t shoot 
 quail with it?" demanded Georgie, suspiciously. "I ain t 
 going to let you have mine, anyhow. Mine cost two hundred 
 and twenty-five dollars. How much did yours cost?" 
 
 "Nothing, I guess. It s a musket. Belonged to my 
 father. He got it off a British soldier up North at the 
 fight at Fort Meigs. Then he had the barrel rifled out. 
 It s a pretty fair gun," said Nat, repeating what Darnell 
 had told him, for he could not remember his father. He 
 glanced out at the misty November sky, thinking how well 
 the scent must lie this weather. The prospect of a day in 
 the open, the river, the wet leaves underfoot, the corn- 
 shocks all arow, the sudden whirr and uprush of the birds, 
 was beginning to exhilarate him, spite of his native sober 
 ness, and the drawback of Georgie s company. They started 
 out together one foggy morning not long afterwards, Mrs. 
 Ducey pursuing the spring- wagon to the road with injunc 
 tions not to let Georgie go out in the midday sun which 
 was never good for him, not to let him walk in the damp 
 woods under the trees ("You can shoot just as well from the 
 road, you know, Nathan."), not to allow him to go near any 
 poison-ivy, or climb any fences, or get burrs in his clothes, 
 or wet his feet. Nat bore these responsibilities cheerfully 
 
THE CHRONICLE OF SMALL BEER 91 
 
 enough; as it happened he had other and more important 
 matters on his mind. 
 
 "You ve got to be quick, but you musn t get into a hurry," 
 he counselled the excited boy. "You re not holding your 
 gun right let me show you see, this way. And set it 
 down set it down when you go to get out of the wagon 
 or into it or to get over a wall or anything you know, the 
 trigger might catch in something. Look out that s not 
 a quail up there, Georgie; they don t roost high, you know; 
 that s nothing but a flicker, let it alone, they aren t any 
 good to eat. Well, if you will " he stood aside resignedly, 
 while Georgie drew a bead on the flicker, missed it by a 
 generous distance, and staggered back with the recoil of the 
 gun. He was not at all strong. 
 
 "You hadn t any business to talk to me while I was aim 
 ing," he said angrily, turning on his companion. "I don t 
 believe you know anything about hunting the way to 
 hunt is to keep quiet that s the way to hunt. You just 
 keep still the next time. It s all your fault I d have had 
 him if you hadn t been making such a noise. He flew away 
 just as I shot you scared him away. And then talking 
 that way you kept me from aiming. What s the dog run 
 ning round and whining that way for?" 
 
 "He s looking for the bird; he don t know why, but he 
 somehow expects something to fall they all do that way. 
 He s just a young dog, you know, but that s his nature; he 
 can t help it. I m afraid you can t make him keep quiet," 
 said Nat, trying not to smile, not altogether successfully, 
 for George eyed him with resentment. 
 
 "Here, load the gun," he commanded, thrusting it tow 
 ards the other and then shrank back in obvious fright. 
 "What are you looking that way for? I haven t done 
 anything." Nathan had been on the point of telling the 
 young gentleman to attend to his gun himself; but be 
 thinking him that it would be a pity for their several careers 
 to be cut short by the explosion or other misbehavior of 
 the weapon, he gravely took and loaded it, returning it to 
 its owner with further advice. 
 
 "You ll have to allow for the barrel jerking up on you a 
 little when you fire," he said, feeling an inexplicable rush of 
 
92 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 pity for the other s trembling hands, his weak body, his 
 hysterical impatience; "and when you re sighting on just 
 one bird, you know because they don t always get up in 
 a covey when you re sighting on just one bird " went 
 on Nathan, trying to explain the unexplainable "remem 
 ber you must kind of drop the shot a little just a little 
 ahead of him, because he ll be there by the time you ve fired, 
 see?" 
 
 Like most amateur teachers, he wanted to teach too much 
 at one lesson, with the usual result that he taught nothing 
 at all. Nathan could not remember the time when he had 
 not known how to handle a gun; he was confused himself 
 at finding how difficult it was to impart what seemed to him 
 so essentially simple a thing; and his well-meant efforts 
 served only to fret and perplex his poor little pupil. The 
 first time the birds got up with the furious loud battling of 
 wings which accompanies their rise, Georgie, although the 
 dog had pointed in a tense silence with quivering muscles 
 for fully half a minute, was so startled that he stood motion 
 less, staring; and Nat, unable to bear the spectacle of so good 
 a chance going to waste, snatched the gun from him, and 
 succeeded in winging one of the quail a proceeding which 
 George very properly resented and for which Nathan apol 
 ogized with contrition. "I I just couldn t help it 
 they were all getting away," he explained humbly; "I won t 
 do that again, George. Here, let me load again for you. 
 I ll give it back to you, I will honor bright. I ll borrow 
 Jake s gun for myself when we get to the cabin." Georgie 
 forgave him; the boy was always ready enough to make up 
 and be friends; there was no trace of vindictiveness in his 
 disposition. He was filled with delight at the way the young 
 setter plunged among the bushes and brought out the bird, 
 under Nathan s instructions, panting and grinning and wag 
 ging his plumed tail, a happy dog. Yet he withdrew in a 
 kind of horrified distaste from the warm bleeding body of the 
 quail. "It smells I I don t like to touch it I won t 
 touch it," he gasped, quite pale and shuddering; and Nathan, 
 who suffered no humane scruples at shooting a quail, dropped 
 it into the bag, wondering. 
 
 They fell in with Darnell towards noon, a mile or so from 
 his home, and walked on together, Georgie sidling close to 
 
THE CHRONICLE OF SMALL BEER 93 
 
 Nat, silent for once and oddly overawed by the backwoods 
 man s appearance. Jake was sober, to Burke s relief; 
 he came upon them from behind, noiseless as an Indian, with 
 his ragged old pouch stuffed with game already. " Bout 
 four dozen, I reckon," he said in answer to Nat s question; 
 " thick as hair on a dog s back, ain t they? Ye can t hardly 
 fire at one without hittin twenty. All ye got to do is jest 
 pint yer gun an let her go c ld do it with yer eyes shet, 
 most. Still, I dunno game ain t as plenty as it useter 
 be. I wouldn t wonder if I d hev to be movin on one o 
 these days. It s gittin too crowded up roun here." As 
 long as Nathan knew Darnell this had always been his plaint; 
 he had been moving on for fifteen years, and the young 
 man listened with a smile. "They say it s kinder more 
 roomy-like in th Illinois," said Jake. "I might try it out 
 there, twan t fer Nance. It s hard to move th wimmen- 
 folks, ye know. Hey? Why, sartain ye kin hev it, sartain. 
 Yeh kin take this one, er come on up to th cabin an git that 
 there little duck-gun ye useter be so fond of, Nat. That s 
 a first-rate gun th little feller s got, ain t it? Criminy, 
 that there s a good gun! Is that Ducey s boy?" 
 
 He bent upon Georgie a glance so abrupt and keen the 
 boy trembled before it. In fact, old Jake Darnell in his 
 tawney butternut-dyed clothes, his moccasins, and coonskin 
 cap, with his leathery face wrinkled like a boot-leg, and his 
 quick eyes bright and unwinking as a snake s, however 
 homely and natural he seemed to Nathan, must have been a 
 fearsome figure to the little town-bred child. I do not know 
 how old Jake was at this time; he looked anywhere between 
 fifty and a hundred. He once said, in speaking of Boone, 
 that he had been "jest a young feller startin out," when he 
 first met that famous scout and pathfinder. "Yer father 
 was younger n me, Nat," he said; "but we was together a 
 good deal. I knowed yer maw s folks, too. I met up with 
 yer gran paw Granger long back when he first come to this 
 country; I disremember th year, but twas before th war. 
 Yer gran paw come fer ter take up some land, but I heern 
 afterwards he died fore he ever got ter do it died uv th 
 fever over ter Muskingum County somewheres. OP woman 
 Darce she kin remember him too; I reckon she come here 
 bout th same time. Queer how folks kinder float erroun 
 
94 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 an erroun an bimeby they jest float up inter a corner like 
 a chip in th riffle an stay thar, an don t never float any 
 more. When I come back from th war, I got married after 
 er while, an yer paw he got married, an that nachelly sepa 
 rates folks men, ye know. I didn t see him agin till both 
 our wives was dead. I tuk up some land an settled here th 
 year o th big squirrel-hunt. You was borned that year, 
 wan t ye? First uv th year, seems like I kin remember. 
 I d a tuk keer uv ye, an glad to, Nat, when John died, hadn t 
 a been fer Liph steppin in first." "You did take care of 
 me," Nathan said. He knew this was no idle talk; the older 
 man was fond of him perhaps as much for the sake of remem 
 bered days and that ancient companionship with his father 
 as for Nat s own. Nobody would have guessed from their 
 greeting that any warm friendship existed between them, but 
 neither was of a demonstrative nature. The last time he had 
 seen Darnell, Nathan had found him wofully drunk in the 
 gutter of a Scioto street slum and brought him by stealth 
 to his room and got him sobered after a few hours, blessing 
 his stars the while that Jake s sprees never took a noisy or 
 violent turn. Mrs. Ducey would have had just cause for 
 complaint had she known of it, yet I hardly see how Nat 
 could have let his poor old companion lie in the open road. 
 He wondered at the time why Nance was not at hand to 
 keep her father straight, as had been her intention. 
 
 The girl s face brightened unaffectedly when she saw the 
 visitor; she ran out to meet them, her red calico gown flap 
 ping, her black hair striving with the wind. "Lord, Nat, 
 but I m glad to see ye it s a good while you ve growed, 
 ain t you ? You look a sight older. Is that Mrs. Ducey s 
 little boy? How s yer ma, sonny?" she asked eagerly. 
 
 "You haven t been in town once, Nance," said Nathan, 
 gazing in open admiration. "Why not? I thought you 
 said you were going to?" 
 
 "Why, it jest happened that way. I I haven t got 
 anything fitten to wear V that s th truth," she said, giving 
 this feminine reason with a half-laugh as she glanced down, 
 with no great concern, however, at her not very voluminous 
 skirts. "I low people would think twas a Injun if they 
 saw me comin ," she stated cheerfully. 
 
 "Pretty good-looking Indian, Nance," Nat told her 
 
THE CHRONICLE OF SMALL BEER 95 
 
 honestly. She colored, eying him with a little resent 
 ment. 
 
 "Aw, quit, Nat Burke, you want to be smart, I guess 
 gittin citified, ain t ye? Say, I got somethin fer yer ma, 
 little boy. What s yer name ? Georgie ? Speak up, don t 
 be so skeered. I was layin off to give it to her myself, but 
 mebbe you d better take it. Wait a minute." She dashed 
 into the house, and Nathan looked after her in wonder ; 
 yet it is likely the two years had wrought less change in 
 Nance than in himself. Thus had she always looked and 
 acted, so free, so brilliant, and so wild. He told himself that 
 he had forgot how pretty Nance was; but it seemed as if 
 she and the bland goddesses of Mrs. Ducey s front porch 
 could hardly be creatures of the same planet. Nance 
 bloomed in her wilderness with a savage integrity of beauty; 
 she was aloof as a Diana, no more moving the senses than a 
 shaft of flame, bright and leaping. 
 
 "I don t let her go to town, Nat," said Darnell, meeting 
 the other s eye. A sudden extraordinary sort of ferocity 
 appeared in his expression; he struck the butt of his gun 
 heavily on the ground. "I ain t goin ter let her go in town, 
 no matter what you say," he repeated vehemently as if 
 Nathan had contradicted him. "She she ain t got no 
 mother, V Lord knows that s hard enough on a girl, V 
 I ain t much of a father oh, I know that! I won t let 
 her go nor I won t take her neither. She she s too pretty, 
 an she ain t got nobody to look after her like she d orter 
 be looked after, cep n me an what do I mount to ? F 
 anything was to happen to me, I always lowed you d kinder 
 take keer of Nance, Nathan not that you ve any call to, 
 but- 
 
 "Why, of course I would, but there isn t anything going 
 to happen to you," Nathan answered him, surprised at this 
 emotional outburst; and Nance came radiantly back, 
 bearing a large bundle. 
 
 "It s fur squirrels pelts, fer a muff an a a one 
 of them things ladies wear roun their necks," she said, 
 depositing it in Georgie s unwilling hands; "I dressed em 
 myself. They re prime skins ain t they, Papa ? Jest feel 
 of em, Nat, jest prod yer finger down in that fur ain t 
 that thick an silky, though?" 
 
96 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 "She was plumb sot on it," said her father, indulgently; 
 "durned if I didn t shoot thirty squirrel fer one that she d 
 pick out." 
 
 " Yer ma ll look pretty in em, won t she?" said Nance to 
 the boy; " you ve got a pretty ma, ain t you? Pretty as a 
 picture. They ain t nothin too good fer her, I guess." 
 
 "Ma s got elegant things, I don t believe she ll care about 
 these," said Georgie, handling the pelts disdainfully; "my 
 mother s furs cost a lot. I guess you ve never seen anything 
 nice, have you?" 
 
 Georgie pursued the chase with a luck so indifferent that 
 perhaps it was not surprising he should tire before long, and 
 his enthusiasm die. Perseverance, which seems to vary with 
 the individual all the way from an interested industry to 
 resolute and purely selfish ambition was not one of Georgie s 
 qualities in any of its forms. Nathan knew that; but what 
 he could not understand and found difficult to support was 
 the perversity of the boy s idleness. He loitered on the way, 
 he threw stones at the most promising coverts, he called, 
 he whistled, he let off his gun at nothing, apparently from 
 a simple enjoyment of noise, to the distraction of the setter 
 who was a serious animal intent on the affairs of sport. 
 Nathan, who, supplied with Darnell s gun, was having a day 
 of sober enjoyment among the birds, felt himself for once 
 utterly at a loss in his irritation and helplessness. Georgie 
 was an unspeakable annoyance, but he did not dare to leave 
 him alone; and after the first failures it was impossible to 
 arouse the boy to further attempts. He wanted to climb 
 trees, to collect nuts, to wade in the Scioto, to do anything 
 on earth but shoot quail. And it was only when Nat an 
 nounced that the time and spot were reached for camping 
 that Georgie displayed any interest in his movements. 
 Then, to Burke s unbounded astonishment, George threw 
 himself into the housewifely duties of making a fire and 
 getting the noonday meal with an unbelievable zest and 
 handiness. He gathered sticks and dry leaves, fetched water, 
 unpacked their cups and platters, watched over the roasting 
 of their potatoes in the hot ashes, the boiling of their coffee, 
 amiable, tireless, ready, neat, helpful! "Beats me!" said 
 Nat to himself, lost in wonder; and it occurred to him for 
 
THE CHRONICLE OF SMALL BEER 97 
 
 the first time to speculate as to what sort of man George 
 Ducey would grow up to be. He was approaching fifteen 
 already and was to be sent to Miami University next year. 
 What would Nat Burke have given for such a chance ? 
 
 He drew a short sigh as he fell to planning out his own 
 future in view of certain impending changes. No college 
 course figured therein; Nat, in the wisdom and gravity of 
 his eighteen-year judgment, considered himself too old now 
 to profit by the study of the classics and the higher branches 
 of learning. I believe, in reality, the scholastic career and 
 aims had no attractions for him; what he dimly sought was 
 a life of larger and more vigorous action. He looked around 
 him at the woodland landscape and marvelled in his soul that 
 he had ever been able to endure its serene, dispassionate, 
 contented calm. It was not that life was so easy there; 
 nowhere in the world do we get something for nothing, and 
 a man must do his best and work his hardest for any kind of 
 prize, be it at husbandry or what you will. But amongst 
 these hard-faring settlers it would seem as if the end of all 
 achievement were merely to make a living ; and that of itself, 
 Nathan knew in his heart, would never appease him now. 
 He remembered that ridiculous old dam of Pascoe s with a 
 grin; the thing was so emblematic of the pioneer spirit, 
 rough-and-ready, conquering and careless. The dam served 
 what more would you have ? Indeed he could hardly 
 answer that question to his own satisfaction ; throughout 
 the day the young man had been conscious of some indefin 
 able change in himself, since all else was the same. He 
 thought with a strange pang of regret that Mrs. Williams 
 had been right ; he could never come back here now. He 
 had been back only once in all this while. The familiar air 
 was good; the sound of the river was good; the fields of stub 
 ble, the autumn woods, all as he had pictured them; the place 
 had been home to him, but, with another pang, he realized 
 that it would never be so again. He had left there with no 
 higher aim than to become a shining light among hired men 
 - what were his ambitions now ? The young fellow blushed 
 and laughed at his own exalted dreams, forgetting to answer 
 the boy at his side as they drove along. 
 
 They stopped at the Williams cabin towards mid-after 
 noon, having by this time, partly on foot, partly in the spring- 
 
98 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 wagon, fetched a compass about all the fields and deaden- 
 ings where Nat had been used to hunt in the old days the 
 days which seemed so old, yet were not such a great while 
 behind him after all. It went to his heart to find himself 
 received almost as a stranger. Mrs. Williams wiped her 
 hands on her dingy gown before shaking his those knotty 
 hands of hers, if the truth were told, had administered more 
 than one much-needed correction to Nat Burke when he 
 was about the age of little Johnny or Abe over there; he 
 thought this formality sat ill on them now. The younger 
 children came and looked at him and at Georgie, who was 
 highly gratified at this tribute and assumed a wonderfully 
 important and dignified air, shy and silent, holding to 
 their mother s skirts. There was a new baby. The only 
 natural figure in the company was that of old woman Darce, 
 still smoking her everlasting pipe like an animated mummy 
 by the hearth, whence she appeared never to have moved 
 since Nathan s departure, not at all concerned in his comings 
 or goings and having to have everything screamed at her 
 twice or thrice before she could catch the meaning. 
 
 "It s Nathan, Maw, Nathan Burke s come back," Mrs. 
 Williams shouted in her ear. 
 
 " Huh ? Nat s come back ? Did he git th grist ? " asked 
 the old woman; and Nat had to laugh, recalling the times 
 when perched on old Baldy s back, a position somewhat 
 comparable to sitting on a chain of door-knobs, with the sack 
 of corn balanced before him, he had jogged to mill at Frank- 
 linton, ten miles there and back. 
 
 "She don t hardly take notice of anythin nowadays, Nat ; 
 I reckon she s f ergot you been away," said Mrs. Williams, 
 apologetically. 
 
 "No, I ain t f ergot it, n ye don t need to holler so, Lindy ; 
 I kin hear ye," said her mother, testily, with the inconvenient 
 alertness of deaf old age. But she added the next moment: 
 " Ef he s brung th grist, you tell him to come here, n I ve got 
 a piece o slippery-ellum bark fer him. He s a good, stiddy 
 boy, Nat is." 
 
 Nathan went up to her to receive this reward of merit in 
 amused tolerance, and the old woman removed her pipe, 
 studying him with her dim old eyes wherein one might dis 
 cern a kind of flickering interest, although her mask-like face 
 
THE CHRONICLE OF SMALL BEER 99 
 
 showed no change of expression, perhaps was incapable of 
 any. 
 
 "Ye re growin ," she commented; "here, coopee down 
 so s I .kin git a look at yeh. I wanter see ef yeh favor yer 
 maw er paw." And, as the young man obediently squatted 
 down at her knees, she thrust forward her face and long, 
 skinny neck into a not too agreeable proximity, taking 
 census of his features. Mrs. Williams looked on impa 
 tiently, the children giggled together, George idled about 
 the room, with critical glances. 
 
 "Huh, Granger cPar through," announced Mrs. Darce, 
 at length, seeming to take considerable satisfaction in this 
 conclusion ; Nathan was rising when she arrested him with 
 another question: "What color s yer hair, Nat? I cain t 
 see it this light s dretful pore. Nathan Granger, his hair 
 was jest turnin white, but it hed been light. Ye re light- 
 complected, ain t yeh ?" 
 
 "Kind of middling, I guess," shouted Burke, grinning 
 around at Mrs. Williams. 
 
 "You d be light enough, ef twasn t fer bein tanned up so," 
 remarked the latter. "Yes, Maw, he s kinder light," she 
 screamed, and to Burke in an aside: "Land! Ain t it funny 
 th notions ol people gits ? Who d ye s pose Nathan Granger 
 was ? I never heern o him before. Was that there Granger 
 man kin to Nat, Maw?" she screamed again. 
 
 "Hey?" 
 
 "Who was Nathan Granger?" bellowed Burke, beginning 
 to be interested in his family-tree. "Was he one of my 
 mother s people?" 
 
 "Hey? Yes. Oh, my lordy, yes. It s him yer named 
 fer yer maw wanted it thet way. She said so before she 
 died, pore little thing. He was her paw. Kinder funny how 
 ye favor him, Nat; he warn t over V above good-lookin , 
 jes so-so. Ain t I ever toP yeh bout him? I knowed him 
 right well. He was a Britisher, ye know. Come from 
 Canady, time o th Revolution. I met up with him long 
 back when we first come here. 1 That was before I was mar 
 ried ter Lindy s paw, Ben Darce; twas when my first man 
 was alive before th Injuns got him. Ain t I ever toP 
 you bout that?" 
 
 1 Probably about 1792. GENEEAL BURKE S NOTE. 
 
100 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 * 
 
 "No, you never told me. I d like to hear about Gran 
 Nathan was beginning, but Mrs. Williams interrupted him 
 with a warning gesture. 
 
 "Fer th land s sake, Nat, don t git her started on them 
 ol times," she whispered energetically; " it ll wear ye plumb 
 out, n sides that it gits th pore ol woman all flustered 
 up n excited-like, n I dunno ez it s right ter let her talk 
 bout em. Yeh know her first husband was kilt by th 
 Injuns over ter Wheeling airly days they was all shet up 
 in th blockhouse, cep n him. He couldn t git in somehow, 
 n she saw them red devils do it. I ve knowed her git ter 
 cryin n screamin like she was crazy tellin bout it. Don t 
 you riccollect ? " 
 
 Nat did remember, and was quick enough to direct the 
 talk elsewhere though, to be sure, old woman Darce ap 
 peared already to have forgot his presence, and sat staring 
 and smoking and working her jaws in her corner as usual. 
 He could ask Darnell some time about this Britisher Nathan 
 Granger, he thought; and speedily forgot the whole oc 
 currence, listening to the news of the country-side, and 
 preparing to startle Mrs. Williams with some news of his 
 own. "Did ye hear bout Pascoe, Nat? He s going ter 
 hev er law-suit. I don t know s I ve got th straight of it, 
 but seems they was a piece of land Pascoe was going to sell 
 fer a man up to Delaware man by th name of Marshall. 
 Twas that piece of river-bottom next to Pinney s you 
 know n Pascoe he lowed he could talk Pinney inter 
 buyin it, n then Pascoe d git a a c mmission, I b lieve 
 they call it. But he didn t Pinney acted so kinder offish. 
 Pascoe said he jest give him up after a while, n tried some 
 other folks livin over to Worthin ton. N then Marshall 
 he died here last April n th first thing you know - 
 
 I am afraid Mr. Burke hardly heard the tale of Pascoe s 
 troubles, though he tried to listen and chided himself in 
 wardly for his indifference. The young man s head was full 
 of his own affairs; and he seized the first pause in Mrs. 
 Williams s talk to announce with appropriate importance: 
 
 "I m going to make a change perhaps I d better tell 
 you now before I forget it " Forget it! Oh, Nathan! 
 "After the first of the year I won t be with Duceys any more 
 choring, you know." 
 
THE CHRONICLE OF SMALL BEEll 101 
 
 tth 
 
 " Won t ? Why ? Have they turned you off ? You don t 
 say ! What fer ? What you been doin ?" 
 
 "No, they haven t turned me off," said Nat, with some 
 warmth. "But I m going down to clerk at the store. One 
 of their boys is leaving them, and old Mr. Marsh wants me 
 to try it. He stopped me and talked to me about it the 
 other day. He thinks I d do all right I know what some 
 of the work is, being down there so much to get things. I 
 know I can do it." 
 
 " Clerk, hey ? " echoed Mrs. Williams, abstractedly. "You, 
 Johnny, don t you go to foolin with that there powder V 
 shot make him quit it, Nathan. Clerkin fer Mr. Marsh, 
 did you say ? I thought somehow twas Ducey s store. As 
 I was tellin ye, Pascoe he " 
 
 Georgie and his tutor did not reach home until late that 
 evening, driving along the unkempt roads under the solemn 
 radiance of the Hunters Moon, and Mrs. Ducey was much 
 alarmed to see her boy asleep in the bottom of the wagon, 
 covered with Nat s coat, and his head pillowed upon the roll 
 of squirrels pelts. She took his companion sharply to task 
 for George s condition. 
 
 "Georgie was exhausted perfectly exhausted," she 
 declaimed afterwards; "it was very careless of you, Nathan, 
 to let him wear himself out that way ; you ought to have 
 taken better care of him, you know he s not strong. He ll 
 have to stay in bed for a day or two. I don t care if he does 
 lose the time from school, he s as white as a sheet this morn 
 ing. Sallie, take that custard and quince jelly and that 
 piece of chocolate cake up to Mr. George, and I ll have you 
 make him a little oyster stew after a while." 
 
 When her fears were quieted down enough for her to notice 
 Nance s tribute, Mrs. Ducey was divided between wonder and 
 perplexity as was, perhaps, natural. Nat overheard her 
 in council with the family: "Well, the furs are really very 
 fine, if they are nothing but squirrel, as fine as I ever saw, 
 but did you ever f What do you suppose possessed the girl ? 
 I don t believe I ever saw her in my life. William says I 
 have at the store, but those country-women look exactly 
 alike, all of them ; I m sure I wouldn t know her. I don t 
 know what to do don t you suppose I d better send her 
 
102 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 something? Oh, I know, I ll give her that green velvet 
 dress, I can t wear it any more you know that moss- 
 green velvet with the gilt buttons. It s perfectly good still, 
 except where I spilled the coffee over it, and just a little 
 worn around the bottom, and she ll never notice things like 
 that. She ll think it was that way from the beginning. 
 I guess that s what I d better do. Nathan could take it out 
 to her some time when he has a day off." 
 
 Nathan scarcely knew why he shrunk at the plan; he 
 could not tell any more than Mrs. Ducey what had pos 
 sessed Nance; he could not have explained in words Mrs. 
 Anne could understand that it had seemed to him there was 
 a high feeling in this free and eager offering of the best Nance 
 had, some spirit above bargaining or recompense. He 
 hoped he would not have to carry out the green velvet dress ; 
 and in fact he never did, nor did Nance ever wear it. I 
 remember to have seen Mrs. Ducey in a cloak lined with the 
 fur every winter for twenty years thereafter; they were fine 
 furs as she said and wore eh, how much, how much they 
 did outwear and outlast ! 
 
 There were twenty odd quail in the bags, and Nathan 
 was not surprised to hear within a day or two that Georgie 
 had shot three-fourths of them. The information tickled 
 him so that he would not have corrected it for worlds. 
 " George would have shot them all if it hadn t been for me 
 making such a noise," he said with gravity in answer to a 
 shrewd question or two from Mr. Marsh whereat the 
 latter, who allowed himself a good deal of familiarity with the 
 young man, slapped him on the shoulder and burst into a 
 dislocating chuckle. Old George cherished no particular 
 affection for his nephew largely, I believe, because the 
 boy was named after him. It s not an unusual prejudice; 
 for I will say fairly I have yet to see the man who feels him 
 self complimented by his namesakes! 
 
CHAPTER VIII 
 IN WHICH MR. BURKE MAKES A NEW START 
 
 NAT had been a good deal startled and pleased and flat 
 tered by old Marsh s offer; milking cows is an honorable 
 occupation, but he liked to think that one man at least had 
 observed in him the stuff for better things; it would be 
 difficult to say at what time other ambitions began to take 
 shape within him, but certainly he had not expected to 
 remain a chore-boy all his life. Nobody knows what grandi 
 ose schemes and visions had possessed him; yet it is some 
 what to his credit that, even at that age, Nathan recognized 
 that the invariable prelude to success is a deal of hard work. 
 He had no notion of shirking that part of Life s bargain, 
 or of winning by a trick. He accepted the proposal as 
 eagerly as was natural to his rather cautious and reserved 
 temper, with no distrust of his own abilities, but with a 
 sober anxiety to show his worthiness. So far, he believed, 
 he had not failed to satisfy his employers; he would not 
 fail of satisfying Mr. Marsh now he never thought of 
 the other member of the firm. 
 
 The truth is, Mr. William Ducey was notified of this 
 arrangement in the bluntest possible manner, and with no 
 pretence of consulting his convenience or preference, by 
 George Marsh himself. It was not the first time something 
 of the kind had taken place; the clerks came and went 
 at Marsh s pleasure; lived, moved, and had their being under 
 his eye. When Nathan had finished out his appointed days 
 in the Ducey household, he was dismissed from the one 
 position and welcomed into the other by William with as 
 much of a flourish as if the exchange had not been, so far as 
 Ducey himself was concerned, in a sense, compulsory. "I 
 hope, Burke, you will acquit yourself as well in a fiduciary 
 position as you have in er ah " said William, rather 
 at a loss for the proper term to apply to Nat s late cares, 
 
 103 
 
104 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 and waving his hand toward the barnyard in delicate illus 
 tration; and Nathan thanked him, grinning faintly. If 
 he had no especial admiration for Ducey, Nat at least knew 
 him to be an honest and good-hearted man, who sincerely 
 wished his ex-chore-boy well, perhaps even had some vague 
 understanding of the latter s ambitions and applauded them. 
 Not so Mrs. Ducey; if William was disposed to " crinkle 
 down" in obedience to her uncle s dictum, Anne was not. 
 She was too obstinate and high-spirited to be afraid of 
 George Marsh or anybody; and did not hesitate to inform 
 him, greatly to the old gentleman s amusement, that the 
 transfer was the most tyrannical thing she had ever heard of, 
 the most foolish, short-sighted, and inconsiderate. Nathan 
 was astonished to find himself numbered with those bless 
 ings which brighten as they take their flight ! He was a 
 fine chore-boy, the best chore-boy they had ever had, so 
 faithful, so steady, so capable ! It was a shame to stick 
 him in a counting-room and try to make a clerk of him 
 well, we should see ! In six months he would be glad to come 
 back and go to making garden and driving the carriage 
 again. Think what a good home and good wholesome food 
 he had here ; often and often she had taken a nice roast 
 chicken wing or neck that had hardly been touched and 
 sent it out to him from her own table eh ? No, he never 
 seemed to eat it, to be sure ; he didn t appreciate a little 
 kindness like that the way a colored servant would ; you know 
 you couldn t expect it, the way he had been brought up out 
 in the back woods. 
 
 "Well, I don t know," remarked old George, thought 
 fully; "to my notion a chore-boy s a chore-boy, and a 
 garbage-barrel s a garbage-barrel, and, by damn, I don t 
 believe in mixing em up !" 
 
 "I don t think it s necessary for you to use that sort of 
 language before me, Uncle George, and it certainly isn t 
 nice" said Mrs. Ducey, with dignity. "I suppose you think 
 swearing is one of the things it will be good for Nathan to 
 learn. You will only be putting him in the way of tempta 
 tion, giving him twice as much wages for work he won t 
 be able to do ; and then when he has to come down to choring 
 again, he will be absolutely spoiled for it, and will be sure 
 to go to the dogs right away. I m surprised at Nathan 
 
MR. BURKE MAKES A NEW START 105 
 
 I thought he d have more gratitude, after all we ve done for 
 him giving him all Will s old clothes and everything 
 and after all I ve done myself. I ve gone out and mixed 
 a pitcher of hot flaxseed tea for him when he was sick with 
 a cold yes, and got medicine for him Jayne s Vermi 
 fuge" 
 
 "What!" yelled old George; "Jayne s whatf" 
 
 "Vermifuge for worms, you know all young boys 
 need it. He wouldn t take it, though I did my best to make 
 him. He s a very stubborn disposition really, Uncle 
 George, when you laugh that way, I m sometimes afraid 
 you ll have a stroke." 
 
 Nat could not help overhearing these jeremiads; there 
 never was any privacy for anybody, not excepting herself, 
 where Mrs. Ducey was ; she argued, scolded, lamented 
 coram publico, not being able to conceive of any need for 
 reticence especially where servants were concerned, and 
 being in all things absolutely frank, literal, and direct. She 
 said no more than was true of her kindnesses, which were as 
 headlong and ill-judged as her unkindnesses, and moved 
 Nathan equally with a species of helpless and tender amuse 
 ment. 
 
 Of the other members of the family, Georgie took, very 
 little interest in the hired man s affairs; but Frances, upon 
 hearing of the change, and beholding Nat s few belongings 
 depart in a box and carpet-bag to the lodgings he had found 
 in an exceedingly modest neighborhood at the other end of 
 town, exhibited an emotion that alarmed and, to be truthful, 
 annoyed this hero considerably. The little thing Francie 
 was about eleven at this time, but very short, dumpy, and 
 homely clung to him, weeping aloud. She unblushingly 
 wound her arms around his neck and burrowed her head into 
 his fine new black silk stock with the buckle at the back 
 to which Nat had treated himself in honor of his emancipa 
 tion; she shed bitter tears all over his clean collar and shirt- 
 front. Nathan was going away and she refused to be 
 comforted; you would have thought he was bound for the 
 other side of the globe by all the tragic to-do she made. 
 
 "Why, gracious goodness, I ll be right down at the store 
 every day of the world, Francie," said the young fellow, 
 too soft-hearted to disengage himself forcibly, yet crimson 
 
106 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 with a wretched embarrassment before the giggling maid 
 servants, and fervently wishing he could think of something 
 to quiet her; " there s a new hired man coming to-mor 
 row he s coming from just the same place I did, and I ve 
 showed him how to do everything and all about your 
 swing and the playhouse and everything else," said Nat, 
 wondering privately how long Joe Williams, who was an 
 honest and well-meaning, but not overclever lad, would 
 stick it out with Mrs. Ducey. He ll be just the same as I 
 am" 
 
 "No, he won t I h-hate him I w-wish he d go away 
 I w-want you ! " 
 
 "Oh, now, you won t feel that way. You ll be all over 
 that in a little," said Nat, removing a bunch of her curls 
 from his mouth, and at his wits end for words of comfort. 
 
 "Look here, I ve got something of yours I ve got your 
 quarter, don t you remember ? You haven t asked me about 
 that for a good while, have you ? Look, here it is." 
 
 Fresh wails and sobs! "I w-want you to have it! I 
 want you to k-keep it!" 
 
 "Why, no, you don t, Francie ; that s your money, you 
 know. You don t want it now, maybe, but you will some 
 day." 
 
 "No, I won t, Nathan," said the child, lifting her poor 
 little wet face to his. "I want you to keep it forevernever. 
 Cross your heart and say you ll keep it." 
 
 And this sentimental rite being performed, Mrs. Ducey 
 most opportunely happened along, attracted by the doleful 
 uproar, and took Francie away with a prim and shocked 
 expression. "The idea, Frances, a great big girl like you, 
 aren t you ashamed of yourself ? Hanging on to Nathan 
 that way - Her searching voice descended to the kitchen, 
 and the maids sniggered again. Nat was glad to escape ; 
 he wearied of the petticoat tyranny, wearied of the narrow 
 little domestic world. He whistled his tuneless whistle as 
 he turned his back on the house and strode jubilantly away, 
 while Francie was crying her eyes out upstairs. Before he 
 had reached the store, Nathan had forgot her ; it was only 
 when his fingers touched the coin in his pocket that she re 
 curred to his mind, and then with the emphatic hope that 
 none of the other young men would hear of that ridiculous 
 
MR. BURKE MAKES A NEW START 107 
 
 scene. Yet he was really fond of Francie, who was a sweet- 
 tempered, patient, good child, always ready to run her fat 
 little legs off waiting on her aunt, on Georgie who frequently 
 availed himself of her willingness, on anybody who asked 
 her; always conscientiously laboring over her scales and 
 five-finger exercises, and getting her lessons every night with 
 a devotion to duty which should have stirred Nat s admira 
 tion. He had officiated as sexton at the funerals of sundry 
 dolls, birds, puppies, and so on, and endeavored so often to 
 soothe the grief of the chief mourner, even to the point of 
 whittling out monuments with eulogies of the deceased and 
 planting rose-bushes upon the graves, that he knew Francie s 
 faithful and affectionate disposition; her attachment to him 
 was as natural as her attachment to Rover, the old collie, he 
 thought, with a laugh. In this wide world there was not 
 another soul who cared enough about him to weep at parting ; 
 and it seems to me now that Nat might have been more ap 
 preciative. But the young man was a young man, and his 
 most absorbing thought just now was of himself and his 
 career. 
 
 It is strange to me at this present moment to recall with 
 what a thrill of proud resolve Nat Burke ascended his high 
 stool and squared his elbows to his first account-book in 
 that grimy hole where George Marsh reigned supreme. 
 For he did reign there, as Nathan would have discovered in 
 less than a day even if he had not had some inkling of it 
 already. The old man could not relinquish that heavy grip 
 of his gear he had held all these years; he was DUCEY & 
 Co., as his little world of commerce more than suspected. 
 William Ducey might post his own name over the door as 
 big as he pleased, he might be ever so busy with his rustling 
 heaps of papers, he might bustle about with his thoughtful brow, 
 he might command and countermand twenty times an hour, 
 he was nothing but a figurehead, and we all knew it. Every 
 body knew it, from the draymen rolling DUCEY & Co. s 
 casks about on the sidewalks to the brokers and retail trades 
 men coming in for their contracts. Mr. Ducey was always 
 formally consulted on any business matter, and he always 
 did as he was told by old George with as good a grace as he 
 could muster. Many people would not have considered his 
 position a hard one; there was a handsome income from the 
 
108 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 store and William lived in excellent style. He belonged to 
 the Board of Trade, made a fine figure at banquets and the 
 laying of corner-stones, was an equally good hand at making 
 punch and making speeches. What would Marsh have 
 looked like or how would he have acquitted himself in any of 
 these capacities ? The idea is almost fantastically comic. 
 Mrs. Ducey thought her husband the most brilliant, solid, 
 able business-man and financier in the country. What did 
 he think of himself, I wonder? I have seen him yawning 
 secretly over those voluminous papers on his desk ; Nat 
 Burke could cast up a column of figures with more readiness, 
 despatch, and skill to say nothing of that ferret-eyed 
 young Quills yonder on his stool, with his soiled wristbands 
 turned back from his hands as they travelled nimbly up and 
 down the ledger young Quills who deferred to Mr. Marsh 
 as to the Almighty, and sneered at Ducey behind his back. 
 I daresay poor William knew it; he was not a dull man nor 
 a lazy man; more than likely he chafed sorely at playing 
 second-fiddle ; more than likely he cherished his own plans 
 and ideas of making money of how business should be 
 conducted. Once in his absence a gale of summer wind blew 
 some of the documents off Ducey s desk, strewing them all 
 about the floor, and Nathan, who was performing the duties 
 of an entry-clerk, left his books and descended from his perch 
 to gather them up. 
 
 " What s that in your hand? Give it here, Nat," old 
 George growled out suddenly, looking up over his glasses and 
 over the top of the newspaper where he had been studying 
 the New York market report; and Nathan silently laid the 
 sheaf of papers before him. " Virginia Lottery, Wellsburgh, 
 Class I, draws at Alexandria, Va., July 25, 1839. Scheme 
 $30,000, $20,000, 25 of 1000. Tickets $10." " Maryland 
 Consolidated, Class II, draws at Baltimore, Md., Aug. 15, 
 1839. Scheme $20,000- " Kentucky Extra, Class IV, 
 draws etc., etc. These were some of the headings; 
 tickets were to be had of Ichabod Bernstein. Such ingenuous 
 notices were common enough in those days; they appeared 
 in all the journals. A fortune awaited the lucky investor 
 of ten dollars in Wellsburgh, Class I, Kentucky Extra, and 
 the rest. 
 
 "Huh!" grunted the old man; and Nat having gone to 
 
MR. BURKE MAKES A NEW START 109 
 
 his work again, Mr. Marsh presently arose and himself 
 deposited the papers on their owner s desk ; nor did they 
 exchange a word on the subject then or later. 
 
 Mr. Burke, during the time of his clerkship and for some 
 while thereafter, lived in a very small way indeed at a board 
 ing-house in an ungenteel suburb not far from the river, and 
 within easy distance of the store where he liked to arrive as 
 early in the morning as Mr. Marsh, such was his conception 
 of his duty. He had one of the cheapest rooms of this not at 
 all expensive establishment, which was kept by a little, meek, 
 white-eyelashed widow called Slaney a name which some 
 how accurately fits and describes her. In time Nat got to 
 be a sort of " trusty " her oldest and most stable boarder; 
 she told him her whole shabby history, how she had seen 
 better days, how Slaney had deserted her (for she was what 
 Jim Sharpless used to call a brevet-widow, not an actual 
 one); Nathan heard all about Slaney Slaney who had fallen 
 a victim to the reptilian wiles of a wicked, wicked woman, 
 and not so good-looking either, whatever a man could see in 
 her, the dear knows ; Slaney who was the soul of honor and 
 loved Mrs. Slaney dearly even if he had been led astray; 
 Slaney who had decamped with the other woman, absent- 
 mindedly carrying off the contents of his employer s cash- 
 drawer at the same time; Slaney whom she loved still and 
 would take back to-morrow. She had a daguerreotype 
 of him on a bracket in her dingy sitting-room with a bunch 
 of immortelles in a pink tinted glass vase underneath it, and 
 used to cry over this relic while she was confiding the story 
 to Nathan. It became pretty familiar to him before he left 
 the widow s roof. "It s a great comfort to talk to you, Mr. 
 Burke; you never say a word so sympathetic !" she would 
 sigh; "and you know there ain t many I can talk to." In 
 truth there were not; her other lodgers were a floating crew, 
 some of whom, alas, did not pay her, and came home tipsy 
 and broke the window-panes; and Mr. Burke knocked one 
 of these gentlemen down the steps and gave him a black eye 
 for calling the poor woman a hideous name. They were 
 most numerous when the Legislature was in session, at which 
 time the town was always very crowded and active ; or during 
 the terms of court in our circuit when every tavern and 
 
110 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 lodging-house would be filled with lawyers, parties, jurors, 
 witnesses, like a kind of benevolent plague of locusts. I hope 
 Mrs. Slaney made her profit out of them, but it is much to 
 be doubted. She was not a practical soul. 
 
 The stir that these visitors made was felt in a general 
 briskening of trade even by DUCEY & Co., whom one would 
 not have supposed affected by their presence in town. But 
 everybody except the Mrs. Slaney s drove a roaring business. 
 The billiard-room clicked merrily all day long, for these 
 overworked legal laborers must have recreation; the coffee 
 houses were always in full blast day and night the coffee 
 houses where coffee was the last thing in the world any one 
 would have got or dreamed of asking for ! High Street was 
 lined throughout its length with horses and vehicles; the 
 old Court-house fairly hummed with alert gentlemen loaded 
 with green bags, calf-skin volumes, saddle-bags crammed 
 with documents. Hordes of fledgling lawyers and law- 
 students flocked about the circuit at the heels of the judges 
 and the full-blown attorneys who practised in a dozen 
 counties, and moved majestically in an orbit of cases coming 
 up for trial. Nathan, hurrying up street from the store with 
 a deposit for the bank, might run into a half-score of celeb 
 rities, middle-aged gentlemen with white silk hats, looking 
 oddly alike with their strong features, their sonorous voices, 
 their heavy laughter, like a separate and distinct race of 
 men, even to the separate and distinct lawyers lingo in 
 which they conversed, and of which the young man caught 
 snatches as he passed along, with a pleased and eager curi 
 osity. There were giants in those days ; Nathan sometimes 
 heard the young followers pointing out So-and-So from 
 Chillicothe, Such-a-One from Zanesville, to one another with 
 huge respect and admiration; if the great man spoke to one 
 of them, the lucky lad would brag about it a whole day 
 afterwards "I was coming out of the District- Attorney s 
 room with Charlie Green you know Charlie Green ? - 
 and I just happened to say that in that quo warranto action 
 against Buchanan you know that suit ? in my opinion 
 the whole thing was nothing but a piece of spite-work and 
 if I was Buchanan s lawyer, I d tell him flat that the law 
 was against him, and just give him a hint if he d stay away 
 from court, I d fix it for him that s all he s got to do, you 
 
MR. BURKE MAKES A NEW START 111 
 
 know, just stay away from court, and then when the case is 
 called, I move a postponement, don t you see, and of course 
 the other side won t hear of that, so then and just as I got 
 that far somebody tapped me on the shoulder and here it 
 was Hunter you know Hocking Hunter ? and says he, 
 with that twinkle in his eye you know that twinkle in his 
 eye ? Young man, I see what you re driving at ! That, 
 sir, would be pettifogging rank pettifogging - just like 
 that he said it, you know that way he has he had been 
 standing there, listening to me " and so on and so on to 
 the deep and envious interest of the other youths even 
 to Nathan, who took a singular delight in this sort of dis 
 course, of which he heard a good deal at Mrs. Slaney s table 
 and elsewhere. Everybody knew everybody; everybody 
 was everybody s friend --a fact which Nat observed 
 with some wonder, having hitherto shared the nai ve belief 
 of the layman who expects his lawyer to be at daggers 
 drawn with the attorney on the opposite side. 
 
 I have said that this legal activity brought trade to town, 
 even to Ducey s; for as court sat in the closing weeks of 
 the year, besides the ordinary attendance there was always 
 a great in-pouring of farmers and country tradesmen, all 
 of whom got in their money about this time, coming to town 
 to buy or sell or settle up accounts. But in fact the store 
 was a busy place at any season, during old Marsh s admin 
 istration, and we never lacked custom. He had a tremen 
 dous acquaintance with all these gentry, attorneys, brokers, 
 pedlers, drovers, merchants, backwoodsmen, politicians, 
 capitalists who was there whom George Marsh did not 
 know ? He was a man of seventy, had lived in these parts 
 upwards of twenty years, and previous to that had travelled 
 widely over the country and seen the manners of many men 
 and their cities. It was an asset, that acquaintance. Na 
 than, in the intervals of his work, used to observe with a keen, 
 amused, and not altogether unsatiric interest the dealings 
 of Mr. Marsh with his various clients, many of whom were 
 as rough customers as he proclaimed himself to be. They 
 respected the old man; they knew him to be shrewd and 
 close, yet on the whole kindly, and of an invincible upright 
 ness. They liked him for his plain virtues of a plain man. 
 "That Ducey feller s too stylish for me give me Marsh," 
 
112 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 Nat heard more than one of them say. Plainness was greatly 
 admired in those days, and stylishness equally condemned. 
 But George was innocent of any design to clothe himself in 
 either the one or the other attribute ; he was as nature made 
 him, with a stalwart dislike of shams ; and, remarking, it 
 may be, some kindred trait in Burke, liked the young man 
 accordingly. 
 
 "You know a good deal about these back-country fellows, 
 I take notice, Nathan/ he said approvingly; "and you ain t 
 too fancy for em. That s right; stick to that. Dress nice, 
 mind your manners " said old George, spitting with great 
 force and accuracy "that s natural to a young fellow. 
 But strike a balance; don t be too damn tony; but don t be 
 too hail-fellow-well-met, either. That sounds easy, but it s 
 what some people never learn," he added, his eye wandering 
 quite by accident, I think, in the direction of his nephew- 
 in-law s desk; "of course, you can t treat every man the 
 same, in one sense. You ve noticed, I guess, that when it 
 comes to settin em up for some of these men, I m pretty 
 choose-y, as you might say. I give Ducey Mr. Ducey, 
 I mean a hint to take some of em home to dinner and 
 there s others that are a sight better pleased to go up to the 
 Erin-go-Bragh with me, some of the plug-hat-fancy-vest 
 kind, too. It all depends. I wouldn t wonder if I d have to 
 get you to do some of this before long, Nat. I don t always 
 have the time, and I ain t as young as I was. Now you re 
 young, but I guess you can keep your head; you ain t had 
 any too easy a row to hoe so far, and I guess you ve learned 
 some sense. I had when I was your age. And besides 
 he fingered his stubbled chin for a moment, and turned his 
 quid "I reckon," he said with a sudden sharpness of glance, 
 "I reckon you ve been through the mill, hey? I guess you 
 ain t any what d ye call em ? any cherubim, hey, Nat ? " 
 and seeing the young fellow redden and stammer, he grinned 
 companionably. "Lord love you," he said benevolently; 
 "I know you ain t regularly hell-bent, like the women think 
 because you go into a billiard-room and take a drink once in 
 a while. No, nor even when you why, you see, you re 
 safe as long as you know when to call a halt, hey?" finished 
 old George, with unwonted delicacy, and abruptly changed 
 the subject, having indeed been much more expansive than 
 
MR. BURKE MAKES A NEW START 113 
 
 was his habit. "Who was the fellow that was in here the 
 other day having such a jaw with you?" he asked; "that 
 wasn t Williams or Darnell I know both of them." 
 
 "You mean Pascoe, I guess," Nathan told him, and smiled 
 at the recollection. "He belongs up there where I come 
 from I ve known him all my life. Pascoe s got a law 
 suit coming on; he wanted to tell me all about it. He just 
 wanted to talk, you know ; you couldn t have stopped him 
 with a pick-axe." 
 
 "Law s tricky," observed Mr. Marsh, wisely. He tilted 
 his chair back, and pared off a fresh chew. "Law s tricky. 
 Most any lawyer, that ain t an out-and-out shyster will advise 
 you to keep out of a suit, and you and I will pay some atten 
 tion to him. But these farmers and backwoodsmen, it s sur 
 prising they re natural-born fighters. They ve got to 
 wrestle so to make a living and keep body and soul together, 
 it kind of gets in their blood. They think they re bound to 
 win if they hang on long enough so they do hang on like 
 terriers. I ll bet there never was one of em yet that accepted 
 a compromise. What s Pascoe s trouble?" Nathan ex 
 plained: "Some man promised him a commission, he says, 
 if he d sell some land for him. So Pascoe made an effort to 
 sell it to a neighbor up there in our end of the county. And, 
 I believe, he nearly did sell it the man was sort of hang 
 ing on the edge, you know. Well, then along in the spring 
 Marshall that s the owner s name died. News travels 
 pretty slow up there, and Pascoe claims he never heard a 
 word about it; and here all at once some fellow steps in and 
 makes the sale to the very man Pascoe had in view, and 
 Marshall s heirs give him the commission. Naturally, 
 Pascoe wants to claim his share, and that s where the hitch 
 comes." 
 
 Old Marsh nodded, chewing with a knit brow. "He has 
 a case, I guess," he said. "Who s his lawyer?" 
 
 Nathan named him. "I hope they won t fight it through 
 all the courts," he said, for he felt a natural concern for his 
 old friend. "Pascoe hasn t got the money for it. They ve 
 always been a foot-loose lot; never made more than a bare 
 living, nor laid up a cent;" and he told Mr. Marsh about the 
 dam, as being the thing most characteristic of Pascoe he 
 knew. 
 
114 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 Mr. Burke has rehearsed this conversation and the whole 
 incident of Pascoe s law-suit with a meticulous accuracy, 
 for it actually influenced his entire life. Poor old Pascoe 
 never knew it, nor did Burke himself realize it until the 
 moment when he came to set it down in black and white, 
 and was startled to discover with what vividness the episode 
 returned upon him. That afternoon as he was coming from 
 Mrs. Slaney s dinner towards the store, it being a bright, open 
 December day, and the streets in a pleasant bustle of people, 
 he fell in with Pascoe and was promptly button-holed by his 
 ancient co-worker in dam building and dragged aside at the 
 corner of the State-house yard, where the derricks still stood, 
 and the foundations lingered unfinished for eight or ten 
 years, according to my recollection. "I ve been to see him, 
 Nat," Pascoe said, grasping the young man s shoulder; 
 " n I told him jest what you said " 
 
 "Good Lord, what did you do that for?" ejaculated Na 
 than, in dismay. "I don t know a thing about law ; he w r on t 
 thank me for sticking in my oar." 
 
 "I know you don t, I know that, and so does he," said 
 Pascoe, impatiently; "but I thought I might s well tell him 
 becuz it s wuth while fer him to know what a person that 
 ain t no lawyer, but s got plenty of jest plain horse-sense, 
 thinks, don t ye see ? So I - 
 
 "I suppose you told him that, too, of course?" said Nat, 
 controlling his face. 
 
 "Yes. Yes, an I told him what you thunk about it, V 
 he says th pint is well taken, Nat; that s jest what he said. 
 Th pint s well taken, he says. Yer young friend has some 
 legal turn, he says; nevertheless, I b lieve we kin beat 
 em out, he says. Look," said Pascoe, excitedly clutching 
 the other s arm, "there he comes now see those three 
 
 not th tall one th other s Gov nor Gywnne, ain t it 
 
 him that was Gov nor, I mean. My man s th little 
 feller : on th outside, with th drab-colored hat. He s a good 
 one, Nat; he b longs to th Lancaster Bar, ye know; they 
 ain t no better set o lawyers in th State of Ohio ner in 
 th hull United States, I don t believe !" 
 
 1 The name of this gentleman is given ; but as he left many de 
 scendants, who hold his memory in great and deserved honor, it has 
 been thought best, although the incident can hardly be considered 
 
MR. BURKE MAKES A NEW START 115 
 
 Nat thought that if the gentleman belonged to the Lan 
 caster Bar, it certainly was not the bar from which he had 
 most recently come. He was short and stout, yet with a 
 sort of heavy activity in his step, which might have been 
 a little steadier, perhaps. But although his strongly marked 
 face was flushed and his laughter pretty ready, he contrived 
 somehow to be slightly drunk without much loss of dignity. 
 There was a jolly strength about him, a relaxed and jovial 
 power. Nathan knew Governor Gwynne, as did every one 
 else in town, by sight at least. Nat had often seen him in 
 church, and two or three times at the Ducey house, where 
 his family visited. And the other, a very tall man, as tall 
 as Governor Gwynne, but fleshier, and so dark of complex 
 ion that he might almost have been taken for a negro, was a 
 familiar figure on our streets, being fairly sure, it was sup 
 posed, of the nomination for governor next year on the Whig 
 ticket, and a most agreeable, conversational, plain-mannered, 
 and popular gentleman. "He s a leetle how-come-you-so, 
 jest a leetle it s nothin , they all drink more or less. I 
 tell ye he s a big one, one of th biggest they ve got," whis 
 pered Pascoe, with eyes of awe on his counsel. "There, 
 Nat, he s lookin right this way he saw me see him 
 wave his hand!" said Pascoe, pleasantly excited by this 
 signal, and not in the least shocked or put about by his man- 
 of-law s departure from the paths of temperance. Pascoe 
 himself was as seasoned a drinker as I ever knew ; he was a 
 little, hard, knotty man who lived to an inordinate old age, 
 something like ninety or a hundred, in complete refutation 
 of the theory that the use of tobacco and stimulants tends to 
 shorten the life of man. 
 
 "I guess I d better be getting along to the store, Pascoe," 
 said Nat, observing that this trio was bearing down in their 
 direction, and not feeling particularly anxious for notice; 
 "let me know when your case comes on to be tried " 
 
 " Don t you want to see him ? " said Pascoe, with something 
 of the showman s pride. "Sho, Nat, you ain t fraid of em, 
 
 discreditable, to omit it. And it is interesting to note that the habit 
 of strong drink never did "get him," as Governor Corwin is here 
 reported to have prophesied. He outlived both his companions on 
 this walk by a score of years, dying in 1892 at a fine old age, and kept 
 the esteem and regard of his fellow-citizens to the last. M. S. W. 
 
116 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 are ye ? Why, I m layin off to vote fer Corwin And the 
 party having by this time got abreast of them, to Nathan s 
 consternation, the short man swung about, and marched 
 directly for him and his companion, the two others halting 
 with a good deal of smiling interest a little distance away. 
 
 " Is zat young man, Pascal Pass hie Passover ? " 
 inquired the lawyer ; and Pascoe assenting, he lifted his high 
 silk hat with prodigious gravity to the astonished Nathan, 
 and replaced it over one eye. " Young man, shake ban s. 
 Oh, wise, young zudge, how do I honor thee! Gwynne, 
 zish young man. Tell gem men what you said in case of 
 Pass Pass damn it Pass 
 
 " You d better pass, I think," said the dark man, with a 
 laugh; " I ll take the deal. Are you the Daniel, sir ? What s 
 your name?" 
 
 " Burke Nathan Burke," said Nat, out of countenance, 
 yet moved with inward laughter. 
 
 " Nathan, hey?" interrupted the lawyer. He smote Nat a 
 blow on the chest that almost took the breath out of him, 
 whereat the other burst into a loud laugh. " Thou art the 
 man! " he said, and passed an arm around the young fellow s 
 shoulders, leaning on him affectionately. "Shay," he said 
 intimately, "you told Passport he couldn t have a contract 
 with a dead person, didn t you? Told him death ought to 
 dissolve greement, didn t you ? Smart boy go up head ! " 
 he chucked Nathan under the chin. "Who told you, hey ?" 
 
 "Nobody. I just guessed at it," said Nat, holding him up. 
 
 "You hear zat, Gov nor?" asked the lawyer, tenderly 
 solicitous. Governor Gwynne, who was a man of formal 
 appearance and accounted pretty stiff by those who knew 
 him, looked at him resignedly. 
 
 "Did you advise Mr. ah this gentleman s client, as 
 he has intimated, Mr. urn Burke ? " he asked with a 
 chilly civility. 
 
 "Yes, but I don t know anything about the law I was 
 only talking," Nat explained. "I know more about other 
 things," he added with a grin, skilfully steadying his newly 
 acquired friend. 
 
 "Zat is cut at me most unkindest cut of all," said the 
 latter, with entire good-nature. "Oh, I know I m drunk, but 
 I ain t so very drunk. Why, if I was very drunk, Sam 
 
MR. BURKE MAKES A NEW START 117 
 
 Gwynne wouldn t be seen on the street with me ! Zash how 
 I know. Tom would, wouldn t you, Tom ? Goo old Tom ! 
 Are you going to vote for Tom, young man?" 
 
 "I shan t be voting for anybody for a year or so yet/ 
 said Nathan, trying ineffectually to back away. 
 
 "What? You don t say so!" exclaimed the dark man, in 
 surprise. "Why, you look twenty-five!" 
 
 "Zash load off Tom s mind he don t have to shake 
 hands with you," said the lawyer, cynically. 
 
 "Oh, you go to the devil !" said Tom, half laughing, half 
 annoyed; and he put out his hand. "I want to shake 
 hands with you, Burke, if for nothing but to disprove that. 
 You are studying law? Whose office are you in?" 
 
 "Oh, no, I m not I m clerking for Mr. Marsh 
 DUCEY & Co., you know," said Nathan, a little shyly, 
 wondering within him at the politician s smooth assumption 
 of interest. 
 
 "Ah? My advice to you, sir, would be to study law 
 nothing derogatory to Mr. Marsh s pursuits, of course. 
 Mr. Marsh is a very old and good friend of mine. But the 
 law offers a great career to a young man. W r e should hear 
 from you, sir, I make no doubt. Good-day, Mr. er 
 he shook hands with Pascoe, who was quite proud, confused, 
 and happy. "I should have liked to think, Mr. Burke, that 
 I might depend on you at the polls," he concluded with an 
 admirable show of warmth. 
 
 "I guess I ll have a chance some other time, Mr. Corwin," 
 said Nat, not to be outdone. 
 
 "Zat s right, m boy," said the lawyer, with a grin so know 
 ing it made the young man s face flush. And as the others 
 moved on he hooked his elbow within Nathan s confidentially. 
 "You heard what old Tom said? Shay, it hie it 
 wasn t all gammon, you know. Study law, hey, why don t 
 you ? " He released Nat at last and addressed him profoundly. 
 "I am not merry," said he, wagging his head. "I do beguile 
 the thing I am by seeming otherwise. I could never better 
 stead thee than now Put money in thy purse; go to 
 these wars no, damn it, thash not what I mean study 
 law ! I say hie put money in thy purse ! Thou shalt 
 see an answerable sequestration. Put money in thy purse. 
 If thou wilt needs damn thyself, do it a more delicate way 
 
118 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 than clerking ! Fill thy purse with money. Traverse ! 
 Go ! Adieu !" He gave Nat another staggering thump on 
 the back this time, burst into another thunderous laugh, 
 and swaggered off down the street, his hat on one side, shout 
 ing after the others. 
 
 "Criminy! I hope he don t git spells like that often," said 
 Pascoe, staring after his legal adviser a little dubiously; 
 " peared to me that last he said wan t good sense. He must 
 a been more drammy than I took him fer." 
 
 "It was sense it was out of a play. I ve read it," said 
 Nat, beginning to laugh in his turn. He went on to the 
 store, passing the ex-governor and Corwin awhile later on 
 one of his errands, as they stood with a knot of others. Their 
 backs were towards him, and Nat was glad to go unnoticed. 
 "No, he s not drinking enough to hurt him yet" he overheard 
 the dark man say; "but it ll get him in the end it always 
 gets em, you know." And Nathan heard the rest grunt 
 assent. 
 
 Whether Burke s next action had in reality been meditated 
 a long while in some obscure corner of his mind, and it needed 
 only a word like Corwin s or his semi-drunken friend s to 
 bring the plan out into the open, as it were, for more rigid 
 examination, or whether he acted on a sudden and powerful 
 impulse, I can scarcely tell, although the latter would have 
 been unlike him. He went into Mr. Riley s bookstore that 
 evening and asked rather diffidently for a copy of "Walker s 
 Introduction to American Law," and carried the book 
 home, and burned out his meagre fire and Mrs. Slaney s 
 candle, sitting up till an outrageously late hour, so that he 
 went to bed at last shivering, in the dark. 
 
CHAPTER IX 
 
 EXORITUR CLAMOR VIRUM 
 
 A DEAL of water has gone under the bridges since the year 
 1840, when young Nat Burke saw his first presidential 
 campaign. Of all the hot questions of that day, only one 
 survives : the tariff evidence, I suppose, that truth and 
 error are, poets and sages to the contrary notwithstanding, 
 of an equal vitality. Our State was strongly Whig, as it is 
 now, the rose by another name smells just as sweet, and 
 so most of us were protectionists, although, indeed, we did 
 not do near so much talking about protection as nowadays, 
 nor label our views with that name. No, the tariff, if we have 
 always had it with us, was at that time a kind of sleeping dog 
 which we generally let lie; what we bawled and shook our 
 fists over was the criminal mismanagement, the hideous 
 profligacy of the party in power, the V.B. s, as we referred to 
 them, using the initials of their leader and candidate to 
 evince our indignant disapproval. They called themselves 
 Democrats in infamous profanation of a title which in the old 
 glorious days of the Republic stood for everything that was 
 high and noble ! Oh, how have we fallen from that great 
 estate, my friends, when a Van Buren can etc., etc. Will 
 Mr. Van Buren say will he, in the face of proof, DENY 
 will our friends, the loco-focos dare to affirm gentlemen, I 
 pause for a reply ! 
 
 And lucky he did pause, for he was in imminent danger 
 of bursting a blood-vessel! Burke, skirting the crowds at 
 the corners, or dodging through them in the State-house yard, 
 where the orator would be perched on a horse-block, a cart, 
 a bit of masonry, or any other handy elevation, would catch 
 fragments like the above hurtling through the air and a 
 glimpse of a red-faced man, gesticulating over the heads and 
 bellowing whole-heartedly. Nobody ever did reply, our 
 friends the loco-focos (which, being another term for the 
 
 119 
 
120 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 V.B. s was always pronounced in a tone of mingled disgust 
 and contempt, as who should say, the noxious reptiles) never 
 affirmed, Mr. Van Buren, secure in the White House a thou 
 sand miles away, never denied, and so the speaker swept on 
 unhindered to a triumphant conclusion. Everybody was 
 enthusiastically advised, persuaded, adjured to save the 
 country and vote for the FARMER OF NORTH BEND ! And 
 as nobody had ever had the slightest intention of voting- 
 otherwise, we all used to go home perfectly satisfied 
 especially those patriots who made a point of getting drunk, 
 or of picking their fellow-patriots pockets on these occa 
 sions. Was ever any man yet converted by a stump- 
 speech? I cannot believe it. We want to hear our own 
 opinions announced and confirmed, not to listen to the other 
 man s. Once in a while the orator would be a Democrat, 
 fluent, trumpet-throated, challenging the opposite party to 
 affirm or deny, and pausing for a reply like the rest. They 
 used to collect a fair-sized audience, too, and doubtless made 
 just as much of an impression upon those who came, choos 
 ing to be impressed, and none whatever upon the others. 
 The V.B. s had the advantage if it was an advantage 
 of a platform, one of the first, if not the first, I think, that was 
 ever formulated, wherein their political creed was set forth 
 in condensed and distinct terms; they adopted it at^ their 
 convention in Baltimore in the spring of that year, and it was 
 sent about and published in all the papers afterwards, to our 
 great interest and edification. The Whigs, on the other 
 hand, had none, and contented themselves with a wholesale 
 and pretty rabid denunciation of things as they were, and 
 a promise of better. And, on the whole, I do not know but 
 that a piece of hearty, thoroughgoing vituperation serves more 
 with the mob than the most subtle and unanswerable argu 
 ment, if either one of them has any effect at all. The dema 
 gogue has his uses and gets from me an unwilling admiration. 
 There were plenty of them on both sides; but from the be 
 ginning the Whigs had the best of it with us, as was natural 
 with a candidate who hailed from our own State although 
 that does not always count, for four years later Tennessee 
 went solid against her native Polk, as I remember, and there 
 are probably other instances. But Harrison ^ enjoyed a 
 tremendous personal popularity; the old warrior, retired 
 
EXORITUR CLAMOR VIRUM 121 
 
 in his virtuous poverty, living upon his own acres, offered a 
 picture singularly pleasing to the republican mind ; there was 
 about it a frugal and classic dignity. And with that strange 
 inconsistency which men will display in the mass and yet 
 individually condemn, as jealous as we were of the standing 
 army, as fearful of its potential evil, the soldier-hero candi 
 date was the one we almost invariably elected. 
 
 It was little enough that Mr. Burke knew of the merits of 
 either political system at this time ; and little enough that 
 anybody cared about his opinions. What to him was friend 
 or foeman ? He was too young to cast his ballot at the black 
 smith s, carpenters shops, and feed-stores, where the polling- 
 booths were usually set up; he could only look on, speculate, 
 wonder, and exchange his immature views with other young 
 fellows in like case. He used to listen, not indeed to the 
 street-corner enthusiasts, Nat had no time for them, 
 but to the solid, middle-aged or elderly men who always 
 glanced aside from business to talk over the political outlook 
 when they came in to see Mr. Marsh. Trade was a little 
 dull, as it often is during the Presidential campaign (which 
 falls in the same year as the gubernatorial with us), so that 
 everybody had leisure for discussions. The only thing that 
 kept them from being more animated was the fact that almost 
 all these old boys were of the same mind; they raged together 
 over the same abuses, growled or shouted at one another the 
 same savage condemnation of our currency system, which, 
 to tell the truth, was sufficiently loose and ill-ordered and 
 had occasioned them all at one time or another serious in 
 convenience and loss, and were very strong upon the restric 
 tion of the executive powers. Old George himself was a 
 Whig "But I ain t expecting the millennium if Harrison 
 comes in," he remarked to Nathan; "Fve seen too many 
 changes of party for that. I voted for Adams in 96. This 
 country s big and it s changing changing all the time. 
 What s good this year may be bad ten years from now. And 
 what s good for some States is sure to be not so good for 
 some others thet s where the hitch comes. You ve got 
 to get down to some bed-rock principles, and for the rest of 
 it strike a balance. Now Harrison s an honest man, I guess 
 he was a pretty good general no reason why he shouldn t 
 make a good President. Most men are about as intelligent 
 
122 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 as they are honest; and you ll find that no matter how smart 
 a scoundrel is, he s a fool at the core, after all. I take notice 
 we ve never had a scoundrel for a President yet we ve 
 had honest men making some terribly bad mistakes, that s 
 all. The country ain t going to the dogs, like you hear 
 people say, if Van Buren s reflected; personally I m opposed 
 to the policy he stands for, and I hope he won t be." 
 
 Nathan looked at him musingly, struck with a sudden 
 idea: "It s odd to think that you re not American born, Mr. 
 Marsh," he said; "nobody d know it to hear you." 
 
 "Well, I got transplanted pretty young," said the old 
 man, smiling a little; "I was just about your age no, a 
 little older, I guess. And a man ain t any good to his coun 
 try, nor his country to him till he s that old. I ve been 
 here fifty years made all my money here made all my 
 friends here. The old country ain t anything to me now 
 it s inevitable you should take up with the land and the peo 
 ple where your home is ; you can t help it. Of course you 
 don t hear me blowing around about British encroachment, 
 and giving the old country a black eye whenever I get the 
 chance; but, Nat, you don t hear any sensible person doing 
 that, anyhow, no difference where they come from. You 
 think it s funny, I suppose, that I should be such a strong 
 Harrison man when Harrison licked the boots off the British 
 up there at Tippecanoe, hey?" he added, and reading a 
 surprised and rather abashed consent in the other s face, 
 began to laugh. "That s a good while ago," he said, flour 
 ishing his hand; "I m willing to let by-gones be by-gones. 
 Lord love you, Nat, I m doing a deal more for Harrison than 
 vote for him, and you know it. Did you send that check 
 to the committee ? It was fifty dollars, wasn t it ? When 
 are they going to have the demonstration ? Three or four 
 weeks, ain t it?" 
 
 "Washington s Birthday," Nat told him; "I suppose that s 
 the earliest they could have it on account of the roads. 
 They re pretty bad this time of year ; and they re expecting 
 people from all over the State, you know. Why, even Mrs. 
 Slaney s had letters asking for rooms !" 
 
 Old George nodded. "Fifty dollars ought to drape the 
 whole damn town in bunting, seems to me," he said. "But 
 I ain t the only one. They ve asked everybody for a sub- 
 
EXORITUR CLAMOR VIRUM 123 
 
 scription. I ll bet Sam Gwynne went down into his breeches 
 pocket. The Supreme Bench would about suit Sam, if he 
 could get there; and I shouldn t wonder if he did this time, 
 being a personal friend of the general s. Sam s always 
 making a great bid for popularity, and yet somehow he s 
 never been very popular, after all." 
 
 " They re going to have a big shindy at the demonstration," 
 Nathan observed; "one of the boys from Barlow Brothers 
 was in the other day, and he told me they had a pile of ban 
 ners as high as the ceiling got ready to stretch across the street, 
 with One Term and Union for the sake of the Union 
 and The Constitution and its Defenders on em." 
 
 "Well, I don t know," said Mr. Marsh, rubbing his chin; 
 " anything that brings people here s good for the town, I guess 
 good for business still 
 
 "Why, won t we have to shut up ?" 
 
 " Wouldn t wonder. On the twenty-second, anyhow. I ve 
 had about forty people ask for places to see the parade at 
 the upstairs windows, you know. Mrs. Ducey wants to 
 bring a party down big mistake to my notion, women and 
 children in a crowd like that, full of drunken men and Lord 
 knows what besides. Tain t safe; I told Anne so. But 
 the next thing you know she d got a plan to take the carriage 
 and horses 
 
 " Good Heavens ! " ejaculated Nathan, perturbed. He had 
 had trouble with the horses, who were a spirited pair, during 
 his administration, and, as is not uncommonly the case, 
 doubted any other man s ability to manage them. 
 
 "Yes, and drive around to the corner of Long and High, 
 and watch the procession from there, because it would be so 
 much the best way to see it, sitting in the carriage! The 
 devil it would! says I. You d better come to the store, 
 after all, I guess. And then, by damn, Burke, she says: 
 Why, Uncle George, how you do chop and change around ! 
 You said you didn t want us to come to the store! Ho, 
 ho!" 
 
 Nathan had to join in the other s laugh; he could almost 
 hear Mrs. Ducey. Yet it was with a good deal of concern 
 that he said: "She oughtn t to do that, Mr. Marsh. Can t 
 you stop her ? You can t depend on those horses, and there ll 
 be yelling and singing and commotion and two or three brass 
 
124 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 bands, and somebody told me they were going to have some 
 kind of floats with log-cabins, imitation ones, I mean, 
 and a whole lot more foolishness. It ll be enough to drive 
 any horse crazy." 
 
 " You might tell her that yourself, if you think it ll do any 
 good/ said Mr. Marsh, coolly; "she says she knows any 
 number of people who are going to see it that way; and the 
 horses are perfectly safe! That s a mistake, says I; you 
 can bank on it there ain t any safe horses; there s a few safe 
 drivers, and I don t know whether this young Williams fellow 
 is one of em or not. But it seems George is going to drive; 
 they won t have room for anybody but the family." 
 
 "George!" 
 
 "That s what I m told. I said, Well, that s all right if, 
 after you get there, you ll have the horses taken out and led 
 around to the back of the square, or somewhere where they ll 
 be out of the fuss. She said He paused to bite off a 
 chew. 
 
 " That would be safe," said Nat, in relief. " Did she say ? " 
 
 "She said l H m! " said old George, grinning. 
 
 The Log-Cabin-and-Hard-Cider enthusiasts were not the 
 only ones, however, who approached Mr. Marsh for support 
 and contributions. There was already a third party in the 
 field, destined to play a much greater role in our national 
 affairs than any of us supposed. For one day, as Nathan 
 was occupied at his desk, Mr. Ducey overwhelmingly busy 
 amongst his papers as usual, and Marsh sitting in his cus 
 tomary chair behind them, with his feet under the stove which 
 was introduced into the little back office during the winter 
 months, there walked in a body of important-looking gentle 
 men, headed by one with a black coat, a white neckcloth, and 
 a long, harsh-featured, and coffin-shaped face in whom Nat 
 recognized Doctor Sharpless, a divine of the Presbyterian 
 church, where the young man sometimes I was about to say 
 worshipped, but I fear that is not what Mr. Burke did. He 
 used to go in diffidently of a Sunday morning and take a seat 
 at the rear, in a rather dark corner, whence he could steal un 
 observed before the sermon began or fall comfortably asleep 
 during its progress, waking up inopportunely sometimes with 
 a snort and a jerk and conscious of a ghastly break in Mr. 
 
EXORITUR CLAMOR VIRUM 125 
 
 Sharpless s eloquence, while the reverend gentleman who, 
 fortunately, was quite near-sighted, peered in his direction. 
 Yet the doctor s sermons were by no means soothing in their 
 substance; the nether fires blazed in them; the worm that 
 dieth not was incredibly active; Retribution, punishment, 
 awful and eternal, Mr. Sharpless brandished at his congrega 
 tion and dinned into the ears of his God. Nathan and 
 this, sad to say, was the profane employment in which he 
 spent most of his waking hours during the service used to 
 study the backs of the two feminine Sharplesses as they sat 
 in the ministerial pew directly beneath the pulpit and wonder 
 if those gentle, quiet, and sweet-faced women, particularly 
 the younger one, the daughter with her devoutly drooped head 
 and long, dark, shadowy lashes, had to suffer this incendiary 
 oratory all day long. It was frightful to imagine what the 
 smallest peccadillo might entail, were it committed under Mr. 
 Sharpless s eye. When he stalked in at the head of his fellows, 
 "Powers above!" thought Nat; "he can t be going to haul 
 old George up before the judgment seat ! " For it was impos 
 sible to divest the minister of his professional solemnity; and 
 equally impossible to figure either a curse or a blessing taking 
 any effect on old Mr. Marsh. The latter, in fact, upon seeing 
 the party, grunted a welcome, got up without any appearance 
 of concern, and shook hands all around as if they had been 
 ordinary sinners like himself. And when he sat down again, 
 and asked what he could do for them, looking them over 
 meanwhile with his shrewd, not unkindly eyes, with his heavy 
 fists planted on the arms of his chair, he dominated even Mr. 
 Sharpless. What he could do for them, it appeared, was, 
 I daresay, what Mr. Marsh had expected he could subscribe 
 to the campaign fund of the Abolition Party, which this com 
 mittee represented. Nathan, arrested by the words, listened 
 in spite of himself. It was the first time he had heard of that 
 party, their principles not being at all widespread, nor the 
 subject of much discussion in those days. 
 
 "In the convention held at Warsaw, New York State, last 
 November, Mr. Marsh," explained. Mr. Sharpless, coughing 
 and drawing a severe document from the tail-pocket of his 
 black coat, "our party nominated, as you probably know, 
 Mr. James G. Birney of New York for President " 
 
 "I know Birney," said old Marsh, briefly. 
 
126 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 "Ah? And for Vice-president Francis J. Lemoyne of 
 Pennsylvania, both men who would be an honor to any cause. 
 Mr. Marsh " 
 
 "I thought they d declined ?" said Mr. Marsh, in a tone of 
 amiable inquiry. 
 
 "They have signified that intention but, Mr. Marsh, 
 they cannot decline, they will not be allowed to decline. 
 Ours is a sacred cause, a holy cause, the cause of freedom, of 
 righteousness, of humanity no man can refuse the privilege 
 of being standard-bearer to such a cause," said Sharpless, with 
 energy, the color coming into his long, pale face, quite uncon 
 scious of either humor or irony in his statement. " If you will 
 allow me to read you the resolutions passed at the convention " 
 he opened the paper and began to read in the same loud, 
 resonant, and determined voice in which he delivered the err 
 ing over to everlasting damnation every Sunday " every 
 consideration of duty and expediency which ought to control 
 the action of Christian freemen requires of the Abolitionists 
 of the United States to organize a distinct and independent 
 political party, embracing all the necessary means for nomi 
 nating candidates for office and sustaining them by public 
 suffrage 
 
 Old Marsh listened in silence, rubbing his chin; Ducey 
 yawned behind his hand, and presently got up, excusing him 
 self, and went into the outer store with some vague murmur 
 about waiting on a customer; Nathan went back to his 
 ledger, not much impressed. Only twenty years more and 
 the guns would be roaring at Gettysburg and Antietam, and 
 the death-lists coming up every morning, and what wretched 
 crop of tears and misery and bitter hatred should we reap 
 from our forefathers wretched sowing! We were not dream 
 ing of that in Mr. Marsh s little, dingy office that gray Janu 
 ary morning of 1840 while we listened to Mr. Sharpless read; 
 one member of the committee had a cold and punctuated 
 the discourse with trumpet-like brayings into a pale yellow 
 bandanna handkerchief, I remember. Nat heartily wished 
 they would wind up the business, get whatever "necessary 
 means " they could out of old George, and go their ways. The 
 young man thought Mr. Sharpless s fierce enthusiasm a little 
 discredited his cause; he was one of the fanatics, headlong, 
 impractical, somewhat to be frank somewhat bloody- 
 
EXORITUR CLAMOR VIRUM 127 
 
 minded, without whom no great movement is ever accom 
 plished. 
 
 " What do we expect to do ?" he echoed when Mr. Marsh 
 had risen and, taking out his check-book, gone over to his 
 desk, which he did rather to Nathan s surprise, after a very 
 little talk; "what do we expect to do? Why why, can 
 you ask that, Mr. Marsh ? You ve lived in the South, you ve 
 witnessed the iniquities of slavery, the unspeakable degrada 
 tion of the trade in human flesh and you ask us what we 
 expect to do !" 
 
 "Well, I don t imagine you re going to buy up all the nig 
 gers and set em free with the help of my contribution, Doc 
 tor Sharpless," said the old man, looking up from the quill he 
 was shaping we still used quills in the office in deference to 
 his whim; he tried the nib on his thumb-nail and went on; 
 "that wouldn t quite settle the trouble. And, of course, you 
 ain t going to spend it buying drinks for the voters and getting 
 on the right side of em generally. No, I know you won t do 
 that," he added, grinning openly as he met the minister s ex 
 pression of horror; "no, of course, this is for legitimate cam 
 paign expenses hiring halls and paying for lighting em, 
 and printing and stationery and postage and all that. Well, 
 I d just as lief give something towards it. I believe you 
 Abolitionists are in earnest" his manner distantly sug 
 gested to Nathan "if you are a pack of fools " but the 
 others probably did not so construe it. 
 
 "We felt that you sympathized with the cause, Mr. Marsh, 
 we knew that we could relie on your support" Sharpless 
 began warmly. Old George held up an arresting hand. 
 With the other he lifted the check with the wet ink shining 
 on it and waved it to and fro over the stove. 
 
 " You re out there, Mr. Sharpless," he said. " I don t exactly 
 sympathize with your cause not the way you mean, that is." 
 
 "What? Why, Mr. Marsh, I myself have heard you say 
 that you left the South because you did not approve of the 
 condition of slavery. The negro " 
 
 "The niggers!" said Marsh, contemptuously; "why, Mr. 
 Sharpless, I don t give a damn for the niggers. It s the white 
 people I m thinking about. I don t know that slavery harms 
 a nigger; bond or free, he ain t much good that I can see. 
 But there s no question but what it s bad for his master. 
 
128 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 You re right saying I got away from the South because of 
 slavery I couldn t stand the white men it made. Slavery 
 rots em out; there ain t a country nor a race on the face of 
 the globe that can stand up against it. If it paid, there d be 
 something to say for it. But, by God, sir, it don t pay ! I 
 lived there ten years, and I ve got it figured pretty fine. It s 
 the most costly and least profitable labor you can employ 
 why, even a planter will acknowledge that, if he s a smart 
 fellow, and you can get him to go into the calculations with 
 you. It s death to any kind of enterprise or ambition to live 
 alongside it. If you could get hold of the planters and make 
 em understand that," suggested Mr. Marsh, folding up the 
 check and shoving it into the minister s slightly hesitant 
 hand, "you might do some good. Only they haven t been 
 brought up to look at things in a practical way, and it s hard 
 to beat it into a man with two or three hundred nigger slaves 
 and a big sugar or cotton plantation that he s got the little end 
 of the bargain, after all. But there s no use antagonizing em 
 with a lot of blood-and-thunder talk about the degradation 
 and infamy of their own lives. In the first place you don t 
 know anything about their lives 
 
 "Mr. Marsh," said Sharpless, in a trembling voice, and ris 
 ing with dignity in front of his scandalized committee, "I 
 have always supposed you to be a Christian man, but it seems 
 to me you take an unfair advantage of of you think 
 your generosity gives you the privilege to to 
 
 "Before you go any farther, sir, I d like to ask you one 
 question," pursued old George, unmoved. "Have you ever 
 been in the South ? Have any of you ever been in the South ? 
 No ? Well, then, gentlemen, I say what I said before, you 
 don t know anything about it. Now when I tell you the 
 niggers, generally speaking, are treated as well as they de 
 serve, it s the truth. Nine-tenths of the stories you ve 
 been hearing and believing are damn lies. If you d leave off 
 harping on that string and show em where the system s at 
 fault, and how much they re out of pocket by it, seems to me 
 you d stand a better chance of persuading em to your 
 views he ushered them out with no great ceremony. 
 Whatever the feelings with which they had listened to this 
 exceedingly plain exposition of Mr. Marsh s opinions, they 
 realized he had no more time to spend on them. 
 
EXORITUR CLAMOR VIRUM 129 
 
 "Queer old file, Sharpless, isn t he?" said Ducey, amiably, 
 returning to the office; "I can t stand these Abolitionists 
 they re too visionary for me. No earthly chance of their 
 candidate s election no earthly chance, and here they come 
 around asking for money ! The whole idea is so impractical. 
 Why, they couldn t get along without slaves down South; 
 the climate would kill white laborers. But, of course, Sharp- 
 less would never take anything like that into consideration 
 perfectly impractical, like all the rest of them," said William, 
 worrying among his papers with much importance. "Ever 
 heard Sharpless preach ? I went once; the sermon was solid 
 hell-fire from beginning to end. That boy of his is absolutely 
 worthless, they say." 
 
 "Huh! Never saw him," growled his senior, carelessly, 
 and there followed a silence and a great industry of pens at all 
 the desks. Nat was faintly disappointed; he had hoped 
 somehow that Mr. Ducey, having begun on the Sharpless 
 family, would continue would say something about why, 
 about Mrs. Sharpless, to be sure, or even Miss Sharpless. 
 Nathan had never seen the son either, so, naturally was not 
 interested in him. But it happened that a week or so later, 
 going into the tap-room of the Erin-go-Bragh one afternoon, 
 and investing in a glass of something hot to ward off the se 
 verity of a nipping winter air, Mr. Burke inadvertently laid 
 down upon the counter in payment a piece of money which he 
 generally kept carefully bestowed in a separate pocket against 
 just such accidents, to wit: Francie Blake s quarter, that 
 storied coin. He finished the drink and came away, but luckily 
 discovered his loss almost at once and hurried back. The place 
 had been nearly empty, so that he had good hopes of tracing it. 
 
 "I gave you two bits for that whiskey-toddy, didn t I?" 
 he asked the barkeeper. "It s a keepsake and I d like to get 
 it back. Here s another. My quarter was dated 1837, and 
 had N. B. scratched with a pen-knife on one side and F. B. on 
 the other the scratches weren t deep enough to show very 
 much. Will you look in the till, please ? " 
 
 The barkeeper obligingly consented, but he searched in 
 vain, even going so far as to spread a handful of quarters, 
 all there were in the drawer, for Nathan to examine himself. 
 "I d hate to lose it," said the latter, poking and prying about 
 with genuine regret. 
 
130 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 "I changed a dollar for that feller in the corner, see him? 
 Maybe he s got it. Oh, Jim!" said the barkeeper, and he 
 pointed into the back room where there was a billiard-table 
 at which Nat, in common with the other patrons of the es 
 tablishment, occasionally performed. It was empty at the 
 moment except for a young man sitting at a little wooden 
 table by the window and writing in the failing light at an 
 amazing rate of speed, with a pile of foolscap sheets in front 
 of him. He was a tall young man, very thin, shabbily dressed, 
 and lantern-jawed, in a coat buttoned up close to the neck, 
 with a frayed black stock, no collar, and no cuffs. He looked 
 up as they spoke and, on being called, caught Nat s eye, and 
 nodded pleasantly. " Just a minute," said he; "I think I ve 
 got your quarter, sir." He wiped his pen on the sleeve of his 
 all but ragged surtout, arose, and presently fished out the 
 two bits from an old leather pocket-book in which, as Nathan 
 could not help seeing, there was very little else. " Eureka!" 
 he said with solemnity, handed it over, bowed with a flourish, 
 and went back to his writing. It appeared to be finished, for 
 he gathered up the papers in a moment, clapped on a moth- 
 eaten beaver hanging on the back of his chair, and walked off, 
 nodding to Nat once more with a smile so sudden, genial, and 
 valiant, spite of his poor outside, as to move one with an in 
 explicable liking. 
 
 "Who is he, do you know?" said Burke to the barkeeper, 
 vaguely conscious of having seen the other elsewhere. 
 
 "Yes, oh, yes. He comes in here all the time to write. 
 We ve got to calling that table his, it s where he always 
 sits. He writes for the Journal or maybe the Indepen 
 dent I dunno don t make much difference to Jim, 
 I guess. They ve got a lot of new papers started just for 
 the campaign, you know, the Straight-out Harrisonian s one 
 of em b lieve he writes for that, too. Seen it ? I guess 
 Jim ain t just wallerin in money, like old Pop Marsh," 
 said the barkeeper, who knew Nathan knew, indeed, 
 every man in town and was a kind of walking directory. 
 He wiped off the counter and went on, "Why, his name s 
 Sharpless, he s the preacher s son kinder on the outs with 
 the old man, I hear." 
 
CHAPTER X 
 
 LOG-CABINS-AND-HARD-ClDER 
 
 SOMEBODY estimated that there were between twenty and 
 thirty thousand people quartered in the capitol city the 
 week of Washington s Birthday something like four or 
 five times its regular population. Notwithstanding three 
 days steady rain, and a condition of the roads and rivers 
 which, had the visit been necessary for business instead of 
 pleasure, would have been considered impassable, the town 
 was full of celebrating Harrisonians; and more were arriv 
 ing by every stage, in their own conveyances, on horseback, 
 and afoot. The taverns overflowed; the Ducey house 
 was crowded, every house in town was crowded; and it was 
 reported that Governor Gwynne, who was entertaining the 
 Whig Campaign Committee, had all the rooms in his big 
 mansion occupied and cots in the parlors. Burke, going 
 home at six o clock in the evening, found the bed not yet 
 made up in his little room, and Mrs. Slaney dashing right 
 and left with her head tied up in a towel, flustered, untidy, 
 and happy. "Oh, Mr. Burke," she panted; "I m so sorry 
 your room ain t fixed, but you re so sympathetic I knew 
 you d understand. I ain t had as much to do since Slaney 
 went away. He kind of drew people to the house, you know, 
 card-playing gentlemen and such." 
 
 Nat had a shrewd guess that there were probably some 
 few of Mr. Slaney s acquaintances amongst all these single- 
 hearted supporters of the FARMER OF NORTH BEND. You 
 might see them following their chosen profession in the 
 back rooms of a dozen coffee-houses, or congregated about 
 the doors, wielding gold toothpicks in a graceful manner, 
 impassive, pale-faced, shifty-eyed, in rich waistcoats fes 
 tooned with watch-chains, with shining bell-crowned hats 
 perched aslant on their sleek bears greased locks. They 
 swaggered along our streets, flourishing their canes, arm in 
 arm, leering into all the women s bonnets as they passed; it 
 
 131 
 
132 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 gave us something of a brilliant, metropolitan air. It also 
 strengthened Mr. Burke s conviction that these crowds were 
 no place for women and little children, and indeed, setting 
 aside the strangers, one did not see very many of them. 
 The mob, if good-natured and on the whole orderly, was 
 yet of a roughness seldom or never seen nowadays ; and hard 
 cider, the drink of this campaign, was being absorbed with 
 a great deal too much patriotic zeal to suit the quieter ele 
 ment in the community. Some Democrats and even some 
 Abolitionists must have generously agreed to forego their 
 animosity and join in this particular species of ratification; 
 for Nathan identified not a few whose adverse opinions were 
 notorious, and nobody could possibly have been drunker 
 or shouted for Harrison with more fervor. All the street- 
 corner orators redoubled their efforts ; the Journal came 
 out with flaming editorials; ever so many poets burst into 
 spontaneous song. They saluted the Whig candidate with: 
 "Hail, Warrior Chieftain of the West!" or admonished the 
 
 ". . . Powers that be 
 That our bleeding country shall be free, 
 And breathe its wonted prosperity. 
 Yes, Tippy! . . ." 
 
 And so on; the narrow bounds of verse probably required 
 the last abbreviation; Tippecanoe is a word that defies the 
 muse. Otherwise nothing was too much for these gallant 
 rhymesters. 
 
 In spite of the rain which fell with a sodden persistence 
 up till the very day of the celebration, when it eased every 
 body s mind by finally clearing off, the decorations, flags, 
 canvas banners, portraits, and all the rest were put in place; 
 and there was a stupendous activity among the speakers, 
 singers, musicians, and others who were to figure in the 
 exercises. Some bandsmen rented a warehouse-loft over 
 against the Slaney residence and kept the whole neighbor 
 hood awake until the small hours, booming and blowing 
 "Tippecanoe and Tyler too," and like melodies, till an 
 indignant sufferer in the room beneath Burke s sent a boot 
 jack through their window and broke up the meeting. Nat 
 heard the crash and swearing, as he lay with his law-books 
 
LOG-CABINS-AND-HARD-IDER 133 
 
 striving to study, and blew out the candle and turned over, 
 chuckling. He told Mr. Marsh about it the next day in 
 an odd hour, to the old man s infinite amusement. They 
 had decided to shut up the store ; an enterprising adventurer 
 came along and wanted to exhibit a number of chained 
 coons, which, he said, were " regular Harrisonian emblems," 
 and sure to attract trade, in the front part; but Nat, who 
 happened to be in charge at the time, declined. The young 
 man, who was always soft-hearted, felt a pity for the har 
 assed animals worrying at their bonds; he would have liked 
 to buy them all and set them free, but their owner, perceiv 
 ing this mood, over-cannily set such a staggering price upon 
 his captives that Nat had to give up his sentimental plan. 
 That same morning he had seen, with another pang of foolish 
 sympathy, the live eagle chained to its stake in the State- 
 house yard, which they proposed to carry aloft in the pro 
 cession the next day a poor sort of symbol of Liberty, 
 Nat thought. One of its legs was broken, and Heaven knows 
 in what pain and fever the creature sat erect, motionless, and 
 sleepless on its narrow perch. There was a crowd of ruthless 
 idlers about, women with babies, louts of lads, and one of 
 these latter was prodding the poor bird with a stick, an 
 indignity it bore with the same fierce indifference, paying 
 no heed when Nathan cuffed its tormentors aside and dis 
 solved the circle of spectators. Bird of Freedom, indeed! 
 
 Mr. Burke himself took no part in the ceremonies, having 
 rejected the sole opportunity offered him that of parad 
 ing with the Harrison Guards who had been advertised 
 through the papers that they were requested "to appear in 
 uniform at your armory the 20th inst., at early candle-light, 
 for the purpose of Drill and to make preparation for our 
 parade on the 22d (Washington s Birthday). And we 
 also invite any young gentleman of respectable standing in 
 society to meet with us." Some of the clerks were mem 
 bers of this body, but Nathan laughingly refused their invi 
 tations. There would be enough people making fools of 
 themselves (he privately was of opinion) without him. 
 
 "I know one man that won t vote for Harrison, anyhow," 
 he said to Mr. Marsh, and repeated what he could remember 
 of Jake Darnell s openly expressed disapprobation. "He 
 used to say he hadn t anything against Harrison as a general 
 
134 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 in the field, but up there before the Fort Meigs fight, Jake 
 said it was a case of one s afraid and t other dasnV with 
 Harrison and Proctor both," said Nat; "each one of em 
 thought the other was too strong for him and put the fight 
 off as long as he decently could, Darnell says. And he used 
 to insist that Harrison didn t treat Croghan right when he 
 could hear the guns at Fort Stephenson only ten miles away 
 and knew how small Croghan s force was, and yet didn t 
 send him any help. When I was a boy, I thought if I could 
 only grow up to be like Croghan, I d be the finest man on 
 earth ; Jake made such a hero of him. But he used to be quite 
 severe on Harrison." 
 
 "Huh! There ain t anything to that that s just talk. 
 He ll be as ready to vote the straight Whig ticket as any 
 body," said Marsh, sagely. And to Nat s surprise this 
 prophecy came literally true. He ran across old Darnell 
 in the crowds not long before the celebration, and found 
 him enthusiastically drinking hard cider to the success of 
 "Old Tip" with some chance-met Harrisonians as if no 
 candidate could have better suited him! 
 
 "Take a drink, Nat, take drink here, lemme pay fer 
 it don t you pay fer it," he said eagerly, seeking for the 
 money with his unsteady hands. "Lemme pay fer all yer 
 drinks, boys this one s on me my turn, y know. Here, 
 you feller, bring s more cider hard cider hard s you ve 
 got it. Why, boys, I fit with Harrison, I fit hie fer 
 him there up to Fort Meigs. My name s Darnell, you all 
 know me, I guess. Ol Darnell, ol Jake Darnell. Dunno 
 who d vote for Harrison if twouldn t be me, hey? Take 
 drink, Nat, don t be backwards. Lord, I ll pay fer it. My 
 frien Nat Burke, boys, known him ever since he was so 
 high " 
 
 "You didn t use to let me drink in those days, Jake," 
 said Nathan, with a laugh; "I was a sort of a good boy, don t 
 you remember?" 
 
 "So ye was, Nat, so ye was, durned if ye wasn t the best 
 boy I ever seed," said his poor old friend, shaking him 
 warmly by the hand, with watery eyes; "take some cider. 
 Cider can t hurt ye but you oughtn t ever to touch no 
 whiskey, Nat," he added warningly; "takes a ver strong 
 man stand whiskey. You stick to cider take a drink. S 
 
LOG-CABINS-AND-HARD-CIDER 135 
 
 on me, y know. Young feller like you ain t got much 
 money, / know that. My treat, boys, step up!" 
 
 "I guess I don t want any just now, Jake. Look here, 
 where s Nance?" said Nat, and was gratified to see Jake 
 straighten up with a sudden and startling return to sober 
 ness, and look all about him, muddled yet himself. 
 
 "I dunno, I dunno where Nance is," he said with concern; 
 "I brung her here leastways she jest would come with 
 me. Kinder sot on it, th way women git, y know, Nat, 
 an I jest nachelly couldn t git out o bringin her. I left 
 her at a store tradin . She hadn t orter be alone, d ye think ? 
 Tain t anyplace fer a girl, is it, Nat?" He looked at 
 Nathan with a piteous perplexity and self-abasement. "I 
 wisht I knew how to take keer of Nance; I ain t fitten fer 
 to have a daughter an that s th truth, an ol drunken houn 
 like me. It s hard, Nat." 
 
 Nathan got him away from his boon companions without 
 further trouble; indeed, these jolly gentlemen were well 
 pleased to part when they saw there was nothing more to 
 be got out of their backwoods acquaintance. Darnell 
 presently remembered where he had left the girl, and sought 
 the place with a painful anxiety; he accused himself bitterly 
 as they went along. Nathan followed and listened, touched 
 and wondering; it struck him that Jake was getting old or 
 else his way of life was beginning to tell on him at last. 
 Burke had never before known him to be garrulous in his 
 cups ; and there was an occasional feebleness in his voice 
 or look or movements that was not from drink. 
 
 "I don t know why you worry so about Nance, Jake," 
 he said, trying to allay the other s fears ; " she s a good girl 
 she s all right she can t come to any harm. You see 
 she s just as smart as she s pretty and plucky too. No 
 body d make free with Nance, I guess," said Nat, with con 
 viction, remembering the girl s free and determined spirit. 
 
 "They d better not," said Darnell, with a flash of the quick, 
 cool, hard, and ready man whom Nathan recollected in the 
 old days; it was gone in an instant, and he caught at the 
 young fellow s arm almost with timidity as they crossed the 
 street among the moving vehicles. "It s gittin too crowded 
 up aroun th settlements fer me I reckon I ll have to put 
 out fer th Illinois er mebbe lowy Territory," he said com- 
 
136 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 plainingly; "wisht I d a gone long ago. I don t like so 
 many people, Nathan, I ain t ever got used to em. That s 
 what makes me suspicious-like fer Nance, you know. She 
 thinks everybody s good. Well, they ain t good, you V I 
 know that. A woman don t hev no chanct to know about 
 people a girl that ain t ever had any mother, like Nance. 
 She s got a kinder idee Mrs. Ducey s th Angel Gabriel, like 
 it tells bout in th Bible," said Darnell, whose notions of 
 Holy Writ, while reverent, were somewhat misty; "well, 
 I don t guess Mrs. Ducey s any angel you d oughter hear 
 Joe Williams, no thin but a boy, of course, but still ! 
 You never talked none, Nat, but I guess you know, jest th 
 same. But Nance always was one to take up with some wild 
 notion like that Lord, you remember how she s always 
 been an she ll stick to it, too. It ll make her trouble 
 some day when I m dead and gone less n you ll look 
 after her, like you said you would," he finished weakly; 
 and Nathan again promised him, a little saddened. 
 
 They found her in the shop, radiant among heaps of bright 
 goods the salesman was spreading out before her. Burke 
 had scarcely ever seen Nance busied in so womanly a fashion; 
 his boyhood recollections vaguely presented her as a slim, sun- 
 colored creature, sexless and wild, bare-footed, in the gaudy 
 calicoes she loved, familiar with the fields and deadenings, 
 a sister to fauns and dryads. That Nance could be a woman, 
 and a very beautiful one at that, took him afresh with sur 
 prise and a sharp understanding of Darnell s fears. He 
 resented the look of patronizing admiration the clerk bent 
 on her as she hung over his tawdry stuffs. Nance did not 
 see it, perhaps would not have interpreted it if she had; she 
 was quite absorbed, forgetful of her responsibilities. They 
 returned upon her visibly as she looked up with her deer-like 
 alertness at her father s step. 
 
 " Where you been ? Where s yer money ? " she said sharply 
 but with the sort of sharpness with which she might have 
 addressed a child; there was a note of defence and protection 
 in it. She looked at Nathan and her face cleared. "Oh, 
 was you with him, Nat ? My, how grand we are, ain t we ? 
 You why, you re all kind of growed up !" She eyed him 
 with frank commendation. 
 
 "It s all right, Nance I got my money here, mebbe 
 
LOG-CABINS-AND-HARD-CIDER 137 
 
 you d better take it, though," said Darnell, humbly, and 
 brought out his old wallet and thrust it into her hands. 
 "They s eight dollars there. I I didn t spend none 
 not to mount to anything, that is," he assured her. "Git 
 what ye want git what ye want. Show her some kinder 
 pretty women fixin s, will ye, mister?" he said to the clerk; 
 and the latter, happening to glance aside at Nathan, very 
 wisely banished the smirk and wink which he had allowed 
 to show momentarily upon his countenance. 
 
 "I dunno whether to take this plaid piece er this here 
 solid red," sighed Nance, in a blissful indecision, returning 
 to the unwonted delights of her shopping. "It s fer to wear 
 at th big meetin , ye know, Nathan, next week," she ex 
 plained parenthetically; "I m goin along with th Wil- 
 liamses an did Pap tell ye ? He s goin to be in th 
 march, ain t ye, Pap?" 
 
 "I was layin off not to tell him that," said Darnell, sheep 
 ishly; "I I reckon it would a s prised you, Nat, to see 
 me settin up in one of these here picture wagons they re 
 goin to hev . Did you know bout em ? You ain t in it, 
 are ye?" 
 
 Burke laughed as he told him no, and Jake went on to 
 describe the preparations enthusiastically. They were 
 goin to hev kinder platforms on wheels, not so very high 
 from th ground, y know, not more n three feet, he guessed, 
 or it wouldn t be stiddy, with two-three teams hitched on 
 an drawin em along. An reg lar made-up pictures on 
 em he didn t know what you d call em he never 
 heard of nothin like em before. They was to be a log- 
 cabin a sure nough log-cabin, built of logs, Nat, with a 
 little winder like we used to hev made out n greased paper. 
 D ye b lieve they d come to him an to oP Pascoe to find out 
 how twas done ? An a chimney-place of stones chinked 
 up with clay-mud, V a fire in it, V a mess o mush in a 
 kittle hangin over it 
 
 "An deerskins nailed up outside to dry, ye know, Nat, 
 V b ar, n otter pelts," Nance chimed in; " n Pap ll be 
 settin with his oP rifle crost his knees right in th door !" 
 She patted him on the shoulder, and Darnell chuckled a little 
 excitedly and foolishly. 
 
 "Cat s out n th bag now," he said; "I was fixin fer to 
 
138 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 give yeh a s prise. But who ever heerd of a woman that 
 c ld keep er secret?" 
 
 "I didn t know yeh didn t want fer him to know that/ 
 Nance explained; "I thort all along when you was talkin 
 bout s prisin Nathan, ye meant sunthin else that other, 
 yeh know." She looked at him meaningly, but Darnell 
 stared in evident bewilderment; his mind had been occupied 
 with the spectacular role wherein he would presently figure 
 before the crowds to the exclusion of everything else. Once 
 launched upon that topic it was with a painful slowness 
 that he addressed himself to any other. "What? I don 
 unnerstan what yeh mean, hey?" 
 
 "Why, that bout bout Nathan s Gran paw Granger, 
 don yeh rec lect?" said the girl. She began to insist anx 
 iously; " course ye rec lect, Pap. Yeh was tellin me bout it 
 yestiddy. Sunthin about th Refugee Track it was you 
 remember. Granger he ownded th hull of th Track 
 wan t that it?" 
 
 "Gracious, that is a sure enough surprise!" Burke ejacu 
 lated in open amusement; "the whole of the Refugee Tract ! 
 Whew ! The town s built all over it now right where we 
 stand. What a pity Grandpa Granger didn t know he was 
 going to have a grandson ! He might have held on to it, 
 and willed me some." 
 
 "No, no, that wan t it, Nathan," Darnell interrupted, 
 a little irritated partly at the other s laughing incredulity, 
 partly, no doubt, at the slow working of his own mind or 
 memory. "No, ye got it wrong Nance got it wrong," 
 he repeated crossly, yet still in a pathetic confusion; "I- 
 I dunno jest how twas but twan t that way. Nance 
 she s got it wrong yeh hadn t orter tell th wimmen- 
 folks anything bout -- bout proputty. They jest nachelly 
 cain t hold ther tongues." 
 
 "Well, Nat s gran paw was a Britisher Refugee, n th 
 Gov ment give him some Ian fer to live on, anyhow," said 
 Nance, not at all cast down by this severity ; perhaps it 
 pleased her as an evidence of returning spirit or activity 
 in her father. "He tol yeh so himself, didn t he?" 
 
 "Yes, but he never said he owned all of th Track they 
 was more n him Refugees," said Darnell, with impatience. 
 He turned to Burke. "Ef he hadn t a died, I reckon yeh 
 
LOG-CABINS-AND-HARD-CIDER 139 
 
 might hev heired it, Nat, like yeh was sayin . Yeh needn t 
 ter grin that way. I was thinkin bout it th other day, an 
 I sez to myself, By criminy, / don t b lieve Nat knows 
 bout that there ol Refugee Track. I d orter tell him, an 
 then this here procession fer Washin ton s Birthday, an me 
 bein in it an all kinder put yer gran paw out n my head." 
 
 "I guess he didn t own enough to keep anybody awake 
 nights worrying over it," said Nat; "much obliged to you 
 for telling me just the same, Jake. Some day I d like for 
 you to tell me everything you can remember about my 
 grandfather when you have time and feel like it, you 
 know." 
 
 He assented vaguely. Sartain, yes when he had time. 
 He went on talking about the parade. It appeared there 
 were to be other log-cabins " besides them fellers that s 
 comin down from Cuyahoga with th full-rigged ship 
 don t that beat all, Nat? A lake-schooner as large as life, 
 only sot up on some kind of platform on wheels like th rest 
 of us!" Darnell said delightedly; "somebody was tellin 
 me bout it. I m kinder skeered that ll lay over our log- 
 cabins don t want them Cuyahogy fellers to beat us, 
 y know. I m in th first cabin yeh want to look fer us along 
 the Franklinton Road some time bout noon. An Nance 
 she s goin to be with Mis Williams V some of th children, 
 V stand somewheres near th corner of Long n High, so s 
 I ll know where to look fer her. You be there, too, will ye ? 
 Ye wanter see me in th cabin, don t ye, Nat? Tell you, 
 it ll be th biggest sight ever was round here, them cabins !" 
 
 Nathan promised him to be on the spot; indeed he made 
 an inward resolve to look after the old man as far as possible. 
 "I guess you think I d orter not let him do it," Nance said 
 to him privately. She knotted her black brows and looked 
 at him wistfully. To Burke there was something at once 
 sad and beautiful in these mutual anxieties of father and 
 daughter; as seemed to be his fate, he was the confidant of 
 both. "I couldn t help it," the girl went on; "they come 
 and said he was a pioneer, n he d orter do it. An he 
 wanted to so much himself. They wanted to know ef he 
 didn t hev a coonskin cap n moccasins. Land! says 
 I, of course he has. He wears em all th time when he s 
 huntin . Don t that jest bang everything ye ever heerd, 
 
140 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 Nat ? Tears to me they ve gone clean crazy. I d a* put 
 a nice white biled shirt V a pair o boots on him, but they 
 won t hev it. An all he s got to do is jest set in th cabin 
 door, an hev folks look at him. I don t like it overly well. 
 I don t want Pap made no show of. But he likes it he 
 I reckon you don t see nothin diff rent bout Pap from 
 what he useter be, do yeh, Nat?" she asked, her dark eyes 
 searching the other s face. In sheer humanity Burke had to 
 assure her that Darnell was as whole as ever, unchanged. 
 
 When the great day at last arrived, being ushered in with 
 that terrific patriotic din and discord which greets all our 
 national anniversaries, blowing of whistles, letting off of 
 firearms, whang-banging of drums, tin pans, or whatever 
 came handiest, a large number of virtuous citizens, like Mr. 
 Burke, who had hoped to celebrate the holiday by sleeping 
 later than usual, were balked of that desire, and got up and 
 dressed in a not at all Harrisonian frame of mind. Nat 
 sauntered about the streets all morning, until sauntering 
 became an impossibility, so closely packed as they were with 
 the twenty thousand odd visitors; he dodged, edged, and 
 elbowed through into the vicinity of DUCEY & Co., where 
 the lower doors and windows were securely shut and locked, 
 as he saw; and looking up, beheld the second-story likewise 
 shut and apparently tenantless; he said to himself that Mrs. 
 Ducey must have carried out her plan in spite of opposition 
 and smiled a little doubtfully. Standing on the curb, he 
 looked towards the State-house yard, and saw every part 
 of the half-finished foundation and the board fence which 
 enclosed the whole jammed with people "hanging on by 
 their eye-teeth," as one of his fellow-clerks, whom he at that 
 moment encountered, vividly described it. The roofs, 
 even the gutters, the front stoops, and balconies, some of them 
 none too stable, of every building as far as he could see either 
 way were being utilized as gallery-seats. High Street seemed 
 to have been cleared for the procession, but there were farm- 
 wagons here and there drawn alongside the foot-walk, filled 
 with chairs, and the fortunate owners thereof were handing 
 about cider, doughnuts, pickles, and other light refreshments 
 amongst themselves and picnicing with immense enjoy 
 ment. The horses had all been taken out of these vehicles, 
 
LOG-CABINS-AND-HARD-CIDER 141 
 
 Nathan noted and thought of the Duceys again. Hundreds 
 of people who could not be accommodated were standing 
 as they had stood for hours, in the mud, under the open sky, 
 with the greatest patience and good-humor. Nat and the 
 other clerk, whose name was Harry Kellar, I remember, got 
 across the street somehow, and wormed through the crowd 
 eastward as far as Third Street, where it thinned out a little, 
 and walked down to Long and so back to High again. And 
 here Kellar, who was an adventurous youth, clambered over 
 an area-railing and gained a window-ledge where, clinging 
 like ivy on the wall, he proclaimed the outlook superb. 
 "Come on up, Nat, you can see all over!" The latter, how 
 ever, had already contracted for a seat with a speculator 
 who had arranged a board across from one pair of steps to 
 another, ingeniously wedging between the mighty mud- 
 scrapers which invariably adorned every front entrance in 
 those days; and Burke, having established himself thereon, 
 took the speculator who was in the neighborhood of eleven 
 years old, an energetic, freckled youngster on his knees, 
 so that the rest of the room could be let out to a gaunt, 
 sallow young man, Mr. James Sharpless, in fact Nat 
 knew him at once in his worn, old coat. Observing him to 
 take off his hat, with his curiously brilliant smile, to some 
 acquaintance in the street, Burke followed the gesture and 
 saw it was addressed to a high, shining buggy drawn up, with 
 empty shafts, by the pavement close at hand; the man in 
 it Nathan knew by sight; there was also a very pretty girl 
 with auburn hair under a fashionable little bonnet. 
 
 "Look out, mister, here they come!" shrilled the boy in 
 his lap. Both of the young men scrambled upright on their 
 precarious perch, and Sharpless, nodding across at the other, 
 said, "Give the little fellow a hand up and he can sit on our 
 shoulders," which was done accordingly. They were com 
 ing, sure enough. A distant martial blare announced it; 
 the "Hero of Tippecanoe" was being sung and trumpeted 
 with tremendous vigor; hats went in the air; there was 
 cheering. Presently Nat s friend, the eagle, came borne 
 aloft, grim and obdurate. Then a band. A military com 
 pany from Zanesville. Another band. A handsome white 
 horse with a saddle and housings of red velvet fringed with 
 silver, led by a groom in buff-and-blue livery. 
 
142 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 "Looky, looky ! That s Washington s horse George 
 Washington s horse !" screamed the urchin on their shoul 
 ders, drumming with his heels on Burke s chest. 
 
 "How remarkably well preserved!" ejaculated Sharpless. 
 "And doesn t it look like Jabez Cushman s horse that he 
 lends for all the Mason s funerals, though!" 
 
 "That ain t Washington s horse, mister," said a man in 
 front of them, pityingly; "it s just Washington s saddle. 
 They sent down to Marietta for it; it belongs to somebody 
 down there kind of an heirloom, I guess. But Washing 
 ton, you know, why, he died before I was born. And a 
 horse, why, a horse don t live as long as a man. You see that 
 couldn t be Washington s horse." 
 
 "Dear me, you don t say! I I wish you d repeat that 
 statement, please," said Sharpless, anxiously, feeling for 
 and bringing out a note-book and pencil; "that s not Wash 
 ington s saddle, you say ? It s Washington s horse I d 
 like to get this straight if you don t mind I write for the 
 paper Washington s horse" 
 
 "No, no, I say tairit Washington s horse, it s Washington s 
 saddle." 
 
 "Hey ? Did you say horse or saddle ? " shouted Sharpless, 
 elevating his voice above the roar of an approaching band. 
 
 "No! SADDLE WASHINGTON S SADDLE!" 
 
 "I know it s a saddle. I say WHO S SADDLE ?" 
 
 "WASHING Aw, think you re smart, don t you?" 
 
 The band it was the band of the Harrison Guards 
 drowned out this lively argument; the Guards, augmented, 
 no doubt, by any number of young gentlemen in respectable 
 society, drew near, passed, went on. "They d orter space 
 them bands further apart," said a woman bystander; "the 
 tunes git all mixed up. Good land o love ! Look at th 
 wagon with a lot of dirt V stones on it, V a man with a plough 
 n a horse harnessed up. See th man, Bennie? See horsey! 
 Look at th horsey! Who is it, anyhow, d ye s pose?" 
 
 Another spectator volunteered the information that it 
 was the FARMER OF NORTH BEND; it had a label on it to 
 that effect. "Why, that ain t him, is it? Harrison, I 
 mean?" she asked in tones of awe. Her neighbor guessed 
 not; he guessed it was just some fellow dressed up to look 
 like Harrison. 
 
LOG-CABINS-AND-HARD-CIDER 143 
 
 "Oh-oh-ee! Looky, looky! Look what s coming!" 
 shrieked the look-out, ecstatically; "it s a ship, it s a ship!" 
 
 "See here, you want to hold still, son," Sharpless cautioned 
 him, trying to gather the lad s legs into his grasp. "By 
 George, you ve got as many feet as a centipede I never 
 saw a boy with so many feet !" 
 
 "Look at the ship ! And look at the big boat behind with 
 the band in, and oh, cricky, watch those horses!" 
 
 The Cuyahoga brig, in fact, was passing at this moment, 
 full-rigged, shaking to the top of its masts with every move 
 ment of its platform, with a crew who, in manner at least, 
 fully carried out the landsman s conception of Jack ashore; 
 more than half of them were gloriously drunk, and getting 
 drunker. On the next float was a band in a canoe filled 
 with "pioneers," with an Indian in full war-panoply at the 
 stern a fearsome figure. "Is it a real Injun, do you 
 guess?" asked the woman. The man didn t know; he sus- 
 picioned it might be ; it was making enough noise for a dozen 
 Injuns, anyhow. Which was quite true, as the Indian s 
 standard of histrionic realism required him to emit a terrify 
 ing whoop from time to time, and brandish his tomahawk 
 in a murderous style. 
 
 "There s houses coming little houses with chimnies, an* 
 a man with a gun setting right in the door!" announced the 
 boy, gleefully and again: "Oh, cricky!" he screamed; 
 "see those horses!" 
 
 Nathan looked. "Here, get down, boy!" he said, and 
 shifted the youngster bodily to the plank, and jumped down 
 himself, and started for the street. He had almost to fight 
 his way through. 
 
 The horses drawing some of the floats had not been be 
 having well, although they seemed to be for the most part 
 sedate beasts, and had probably been in training for the day. 
 But it was not in horse flesh-and-blood to accept the racket 
 peaceably; the canoe-driver just passed by was having 
 trouble with his team; and out of the corner of his eye Nat 
 saw the pole-horse of the float carrying Darnell s cabin 
 plunging and backing. It was a sorrel with white fore legs. 
 The band was playing "Old Rosin-the-Bow." 
 
 At the first, Burke was not thinking at all about the floats, 
 but of the Ducey carriage and black and bay pair of horses 
 
144 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 he had so often driven. He could not tell how long they had 
 been there at the corner, but it could not have been from 
 the first, or he would have seen them before this. 1 The 
 scared people were crowding back in every direction, shout 
 ing and screaming. In the carriage were Mrs. Ducey and 
 Francie, and two or three others, ladies, children I can 
 not remember who. Ducey was not with them ; it was 
 George driving. Everything happened quickly almost 
 at once. Burke got through the crowd somehow, and ran 
 up and seized hold of the bridle of the bay, and tried to force 
 them back and to one side; he spoke to them; the horses 
 were both quite frantic, rearing, a whirl of flying hoofs. 
 He heard Francie or some one in the carriage scream out: 
 " Nathan, Nathan! Oh, he ll be killed, he ll be killed!" 
 George Ducey was standing up in the front seat, clutching 
 the reins and slashing the horses across the back with a whip, 
 and crying out in a wild way; I believe he was beside himself 
 with fright, and did not know what he was doing. The 
 driver of the log-cabin float, struggling with his own scared 
 team, bawled furiously: "God damn you, drop that whip, 
 you damn fool! Somebody hit him over the head, will 
 you !" and more oaths. The float was almost on us. 
 Nat saw Darnell s face in the cabin-door above him, 
 vacantly smiling. "Get back, Jake, for God s sake, get 
 back!" he cried and clung desperately to the bridles. 
 George I think it was George all at once gave a horrible 
 kind of screech, and threw the reins aside, and plunged over 
 the wheels into the crowd. The flying buckle of the reins 
 struck Nathan on the forehead and cut to the bone and the 
 blood ran down. It blinded him for a second; I do not know 
 whether the pole of the carriage struck Darnell first, or the 
 horses hoofs maybe it was both together. He was flung 
 from his place and down into the mud, and tried to rise; 
 and went down again, and the hind wheels of the float went 
 over him over his neck. He was dead before any of us 
 got to him. 
 
 1 According to the coroner s report, the carriage had been standing 
 around the corner on the other street from the beginning. It was the 
 backing or lunging of the horses that brought it into Burke s view; 
 for further particulars of this distressing accident the reader is referred 
 to the Ohio State Journal for February 23-25, 1840. M. S. W. 
 
CHAPTER XI 
 
 IN WHICH NANCE BEGINS THE WORLD 
 
 WHEN this thing happened, there arose from the crowd 
 a dreadful shuddering groan, and a scream here and there. 
 The procession was still coming on, the bands blaring and 
 people cheering up the street. It halted, recoiling on itself, 
 in a moment; but I dare say there were hundreds who did 
 not know until the next day, perhaps, when the papers came 
 out, what it was that had blocked the way. Nathan who 
 was a little dazed, clutching at the horses bits, all at once 
 found that they were standing quite still, trembling and 
 glaring; and a dozen men were at the traces. The Indian 
 who had been war-whooping in the stern of the canoe 
 jumped down and came running up to us: "What is it? 
 Was that fellow hurt?" he panted. And then looking down 
 "My God!" he said. Some men were lifting up Darnell s 
 body. "Bring a shutter here, some of you!" the Indian 
 shouted. He was very active and helpful I never found 
 out his name. Mrs. Ducey stood up in the carriage and 
 called, "George! George!" looking wildly around. Nat 
 felt some one take him by the arm and draw him aside while 
 the horses were being led away; one of them had a bad gash 
 in the near fore leg ; the pole of the carriage was broken 
 squarely off. "You re hurt bleeding," said somebody; 
 " where s your handkerchief?" Burke stared at him 
 "Speaking to me?" he said vacantly, and the other repeated 
 gently, "You re hurt your forehead s cut open I ll 
 bind it up if you ll give me your handkerchief or maybe 
 we can get a rag somewhere " Nat mechanically brought 
 out his handkerchief and held it to his forehead. "Oh, 
 damn this blood!" he said, as it persistently welled from the 
 cut, in a sudden burst of unreasoning anger; he was a good 
 deal shaken by what he had seen. His friend it was 
 Sharpless went to the carriage, where Mrs. Ducey was still 
 standing up and calling her son. "George is right over 
 here, Mrs. Ducey," he said; "he s sick sick at his stomach, 
 L 145 
 
146 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 but he s not hurt just frightened. He ll be here in a 
 minute. There s somebody gone for your husband. Hasn t 
 the young lady Miss Blake, isn t it ? hasn t she fainted ?" 
 She had indeed and lay senseless across the laps of the scared 
 women. Sharpless got up on the carriage-wheel, and 
 shouted over the people s heads: "Vardaman! John!" 
 he shouted; "let the doctor through here, won t you?" 
 And the doctor, whom Nathan remembered seeing sitting in 
 his buggy with the pretty red-haired girl, finally struggled 
 through the crowd, without any hat and his coat torn. 
 
 They had wrenched a door from its hinges, and laid 
 Darnell on it, and Nance was kneeling by it in the mud. 
 She looked in Vardaman s face as the doctor stooped over, 
 feeling and listening; then took off the red shawl she was 
 wearing about her shoulders and spread it over her father s 
 face, and stood up, and some of the men uncovered their 
 heads. Nance did not shed a tear; Mrs. Williams, who was 
 with her, was wailing hysterically, and some of the other 
 women, I believe. The doctor spoke in a low voice, and 
 Darnell s body was lifted up again and carried into one of the 
 houses a tailor s shop at the corner. By this time a con 
 stable or two had come up, and they cleared the way for the 
 bearers. And presently the procession moved on once more; 
 there had been hurrahing and music somewhere all the time. 
 
 "What s your name, young man?" one of the policemen 
 said to Nathan; "I m taking em for the coroner, you know," 
 he added in explanation, and entered it in his note-book. 
 "Nathan Burke? All right. And what s yours? I mean 
 you, young fellow. You got the doctor, didn t you?" 
 
 "My name s Sharpless, and I didn t do anything but 
 I saw it all if it s witnesses you want. James Sharpless," 
 repeated the latter hastily, as he passed them with a tumbler 
 of water that he had got from Heaven knows where; he got 
 up on the carriage-step to give it to Francie. Other men 
 were helping the ladies out of the dismantled vehicle; the 
 children were crying dismally; Mr. Ducey had come; and 
 Nat saw the constable interrogating George in another mo 
 ment. 
 
 " I didn t do it, twasn t my fault was it my fault, Ma? " 
 George cried over and over again. He mopped his pale face ; 
 he trembled as with an ague; his eyes roved. George had 
 
NANCE BEGINS THE WORLD 147 
 
 grown up into a tall, slim boy lately; he was not strong 
 and at the instant looked curiously like a palsied old man. 
 "The horses pulled the reins right out of my hands I 
 couldn t hold em nobody could have held em no 
 body, I tell you. The band scared them, or I could have 
 held them. There was a man hanging on to their heads, 
 and I couldn t do anything with em as long as he held on. 
 That s what scared em. It was his fault. They got 
 frightened when they saw the cabin coming that s what 
 frightened em. That man sitting in the cabin-door he did 
 something that scared em I don t know what but it 
 was all his fault you couldn t do anything with the horses. 
 It wasn t my fault you can t blame me I didn t do 
 anything " 
 
 "Lord love you, who s saying you did? I ain t asking 
 for anything but your name," said the constable, impa 
 tiently. "So scairt you can t tell your own name?" 
 
 "I m not scared I m not scared I I my name s 
 Ducey. But you can t put me in jail, you know it wasn t 
 my fault 
 
 "I ain t going to jail you. We don t jail people for being 
 scared to death," said the constable, wetting his pencil. 
 
 "I wasn t scared, I tell you the horses pulled the reins 
 right out of my hand why, everybody saw em pull the 
 reins out of my hand. Ma, didn t you see em ? I wasn t a 
 bit scared " 
 
 "Get him some whiskey, can t you? Anybody got a 
 flask?" said the constable, looking around. Burke had al 
 ready had the offer of a dozen. "Boy ll have a fit if we don t 
 look out," remarked the officer. "Mr. Ducey, is that you? 
 That your son ? Did you see ? Hey ? Oh, you weren t 
 here ? I m sorry, I ll have to call your wife and them other 
 ladies, too, I guess, they was all witnesses." 
 
 "George, George, come here with us," Mrs. Ducey cried 
 out. "Francie, can you walk, dearie? Oh, William, what 
 shall we do?" 
 
 "Is Nathan killed?" said Francie, sitting up with a gray 
 face. " Was Nathan killed ? " 
 
 "Here he is, here he is," said Sharpless, pushing him for 
 ward. And Nat went up to the carriage and took her 
 clammy, little, shaking hand in his. "Why, Francie " 
 
148 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 he began, with a rather ghastly smile, I am afraid. She 
 burst out crying in a wild fashion. 
 
 " She ll be all right now. Only get out of this as quick 
 as you can/ said the doctor. He had come out of the shop, 
 and been talking to the constable. Somebody brought him 
 his hat, crushed in at the side. 
 
 "That poor girl that poor, pretty, young thing, Doctor, 
 is she in there? It was her father, wasn t it?" cried Mrs. 
 Ducey. "Oh, I m so sorry so sorry!" The tears ran 
 down her cheeks. "I m going in to see her let me go in 
 to see her William, how can you ? I want to see her !" 
 
 "Better not, Mrs. Ducey, I think," said Vardaman, 
 kindly; "you can t do any good, you know. The man is 
 dead killed instantly, I believe at least I hope so." 
 
 "Oh, I don t believe it he can t be dead he s just 
 unconscious. I can bring him to I m sure I can. He 
 wasn t under the wheel, was he? It just slipped and 
 and bruised him, didn t it? I know a splendid liniment 
 
 "There s nothing to be done, Mrs. Ducey," said the doctor, 
 patiently. "I know this is distressing to you, and you want 
 to help all you can, but he s beyond help from any of us." 
 
 "Well, but I want to talk to that poor girl what do you 
 men know about it ? I want to see her. " 
 
 "I know her, Mrs. Ducey," interposed Nathan; "I know 
 her I ll take a message to her. But let her alone right 
 now. I ll see to her. Hadn t you better get Francie home ? " 
 
 She looked at him almost blankly. " Oh, it s Natlfan Burke 
 I didn t know you at first. What s the matter with your 
 your head? Were you hurt, too ?" 
 
 "Nothing, I cut it," Nat told her; "you ought to go home 
 now- 
 
 "No, no I want to speak to that poor girl first I 
 want to take her home William, we must take her home 
 with us 
 
 "She won t leave her father and she s with people she 
 knows friends," said Nathan, soothingly; "you re a 
 stranger, you know, Mrs. Ducey - 
 
 "Do come home, Anne," said Ducey, nervously. 
 
 "I ll see about Nance I ll take care of her," Burke re 
 iterated; "look at George. He ll be sick if you don t take 
 him away from here " 
 
NANCE BEGINS THE WORLD 149 
 
 "That blood on your head is disgusting," said George, 
 faintly. "Why don t you tie it up so it won t show?" 
 
 And in the meanwhile we had been urging them all stead 
 ily away from the spot, Mrs. Ducey moving readily enough 
 when told that George needed it. Sharpless and the doctor 
 had Francie between them. Nathan carried in his arms a 
 stout little boy of five or six who roared with terror, and 
 partly also with rage at being thus forcibly deported, half 
 the way home; I hardly know how we got there at last. 
 Mr. Marsh, to whom somebody had taken word, came hurry 
 ing up just as we reached the house. 
 
 "You ll tell that poor girl I want to see her ? You ll tell 
 her, Nathan ? " said Mrs. Ducey, earnestly, as they parted. 
 Nathan promised that he would. He thought that her im 
 pulsive sympathy, if it did not wear itself out before she saw 
 Nance, might, perhaps, comfort the girl; Mrs. Ducey s 
 kindness was as domineering as all her other traits of char 
 acter; she could be unreasonably and masterfully tender; 
 but that might be what Nance needed, for all Nat could tell. 
 
 "You d better come around to my office and let me see 
 that head, sir," said the doctor; "you ve got a pretty nasty- 
 looking cut there. Come this evening. I don t think you 
 could get to it now." As he hurried off, Nathan heard him 
 say to Sharpless with a concerned look, "I left Louise 
 Miss G wynne, I mean, sitting in the buggy all by herself 
 I couldn t very well help it." 
 
 This, as nearly as I remember it, was the exact order of 
 events on that melancholy Washington s Birthday forty 
 years ago. Yet I have a much more vivid and detailed 
 recollection of it than I have been able to put on paper some 
 how; it was a task from which flesh and spirit recoiled. 
 Burke was not an emotional nor imaginative man, but for 
 a long while afterwards he saw in dreams waking drenched 
 in horror a Juggernaut car, monstrous, inexorably im 
 pelled, crushing out a life at his feet. Darnell had been 
 sitting, cross-legged, on a but-end of log within the door with 
 his gun and (alas!) his whiskey bottle between his knees, 
 just as Nathan remembered him hundreds of times by their 
 evening camp-fires. A lump came into the young man s 
 throat as he thought of it. Perhaps Jake s sorry life deserved 
 
150 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 as sorry an end ; but the miserable fitness of it stung one with 
 a deeper pity. I have known in my life worse men than 
 Jake Darnell, who did not have half his faults. And if he 
 did not walk so well as he might, even by his feeble taper 
 my friends, which of us goes without stumbling? 
 
 Nathan, with his head already swollen and throbbing fa 
 mously, went back to the tailor s shop and found two or three 
 men in charge, homely Samaritans. They had the body 
 decently disposed on one of the tailor s benches, until a 
 coffin should be got ready, which, of course, could not be 
 done until the next day, the town being in such festivity. 
 " You couldn t git a carpenter, fer love ner money, y know - 
 specially fer to make a coffin," one of them explained to 
 Burke. "Well, I dunno as there s anybody kin afford to wait 
 better n a dead person," he added with a meditative glance 
 at the shrouded figure on the bench. "Hev a drink, mis 
 ter?" And Nat declining, he took one himself and wiped his 
 mouth on the back of his hand as he set the jug down. The 
 watchers were philosophic souls ; they had a table spread and 
 a bottle or two and a greasy pack of cards in the back part 
 of the establishment, and proposed to make a comfortable 
 night of it. The short February afternoon was already clos 
 ing in, and the procession was at last over; the hurrahing 
 was over; the crowds were dissolving; Nat felt as if he had 
 lived an age since morning. Asking for Nance, he heard with 
 relief that the tailor s wife had taken her under protection, 
 when the Williams family were obliged to start home. And 
 the tailor they were Germans by the name of Lauterbach 
 living over his shop, Burke went upstairs and found the 
 family, kind, slatternly people, the tailor a shrivelled, 
 meagre man and his wife very fat and sentimental, weep- 
 ingly pressing a glass of beer on Nance as the girl sat upright 
 in a corner. 
 
 " Ach, so haf she set so she haf been since " said the 
 tailoress, making an expressive gesture with her inverted 
 thumb to the floor below. " You also haf a hurt by your head 
 got ? " Nathan went and sat down by Nance and took her 
 passive hand. She looked at him with her big black eyes, 
 and the young man was struck as often before by something 
 inscrutable in their glance or in the girl herself; she might 
 have been a young sphinx in her corner, grave and tranquil. 
 
NANCE BEGINS THE WORLD 151 
 
 There was a kind of pagan serenity in her self-control, a 
 resignation not expressed by any creed. 
 
 "It s all right, Nat," she said quite composedly; "I don t 
 feel like cryin bout Pap. I reckon he d lived his time. I 
 jest want to set still an think about him." 
 
 "I wish he could have died some other way, Nance," said 
 Burke. The commonplaces of condolence did not come flu 
 ently to him; he was more moved by horror and compassion 
 than by sorrow for the dead man, and, whether kindly or 
 not, could say no more than he felt. "You you didn t 
 see it, did you ? " 
 
 She said no, not all of it. She had seen her father fall, 
 but not not the rest; and she asked with a painful ear 
 nestness if he thought Darnell had suffered. 
 
 "The doctor said not," Nat told her, and seeing relief in 
 her face, went on. "He said he must have died instantly. 
 I I don t believe he even knew he was in danger, Nance," 
 said the young fellow, not realizing until the words were out 
 that he was bunglingly revealing a conviction he had meant 
 in humanity to keep to himself. 
 
 "Yes. I know. Pap was drunk," Nance assented. "I 
 couldn t keep him from it, ye know." 
 
 "I I didn t mean 
 
 "Never mind, Nat," she said gently, "I knew you knew. 
 Twan t no use tryin to hide it. We ve all got to git up an 
 tell what we know at th inquest, ain t we ? Truth can t 
 hurt Pap now ; nor it couldn t while he was alive even. 
 Truth s truth. Tain t noways so shameful a man sh d 
 drink, anyhow. But if twas, th shame s in doin th thing 
 tain t in havin folks know bout it, seems to me." And 
 with this piece of sound philosophy, she fell silent again, 
 brooding. 
 
 "I want him buried with his ol rifle they s a corner in 
 th cabin-lot at home that he d like, I know," she said after 
 a while in answer to a question; "mebbe tain t Christian, 
 but I kinder low Pap would lay easier with that rifle lil^e 
 Injuns do, ye know, Nathan. I ain t hardly ever seen Pap 
 without his gun seems to be a part of him, somehow. I 
 I reckon ye kin make th city-folks understan that, can t 
 ye ? An he wouldn t want to be in no spruced-up grave 
 yard, ye know; he d ruther layout in th woods, like he lived." 
 
152 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 Burke understood her feeling ; to him, too, it seemed as if 
 the old backwoodsman would be better, even in death) re 
 moved from the settlements which in life he had shunned or 
 visited only to his undoing. Nat undertook to make all 
 these arrangements. "Th folks here are mighty kind 
 mighty kind and good," Nance said with a weary glance at 
 the half-closed door, where two or three of the Lauterbach 
 youngsters were peeping through a crack at us. Mrs. 
 Lauterbach had shooed them all out of the room, together 
 with herself and the tailor, in deference to the mourners 
 conference. " They re jest as kind as they know how but 
 they don t know much," said the girl. And then she asked 
 with some appearance of interest: " Nathan, that was that 
 little skunk of a George Ducey drivin that carriage, wasn t 
 it ? Th one you brought out home one time, tryin to learn 
 him to shoot, don t you rec lect ? I was sure I knowed him 
 I didn t see none of th others they was wimmen n 
 children, wasn t they?" 
 
 " Yes, that was George. But he s not that is, he s noth 
 ing but a boy, and he was frightened, you know, Nance 
 he didn t know what he was doing," Nat explained, noting 
 with surprise the scorn in her tone. 
 
 Nance shook her head. "Don t know why you stand up 
 fer him," she said. "That boy ain t got any grit, Nat 
 you know it. Ef it had a been his own mother settin in 
 Pap s place, he d acted jest th same. He ain t got any grit, 
 an he ain t got any too much sense, either. You kin git 
 along thout grit, Pap useter say, an you kin git along thout 
 sense, but ye can t git along thout ary one or t other of em. 
 Pap never took no stock in that boy my, I remember 
 him laughin fit to kill himself over you tryin an tryin to 
 learn that little George how to shoot. An to think that very 
 boy sh d be th one to kinder help along Pap s dyin in th 
 end." A passing wonder at this uncalled-for and gratuitous 
 irony of fortune showed in her face. 
 
 Nathan could not deny the charge. If George had kept 
 his head, the tragedy might not have occurred. Yet, in fair 
 ness, the boy could not be blamed. Nor, for that matter, 
 did Nance seem disposed to blame him overmuch ; she recog 
 nized her own responsibility. There was a sanity and bal 
 ance about the girl, even in a calamity whose horrid circum- 
 
NANCE BEGINS THE WORLD 153 
 
 stances might well have undermined her, that commanded 
 respect. Not stoicism but a brave reasonableness governed 
 her. Only once did she flash into one of those unaccountable 
 outbursts which Nathan remembered so well ; it was when he 
 told her about Mrs. Ducey. 
 
 " Did she say that, Nat ? Did she, did she ? " Nance cried 
 out. The color flared in her white face; her eyes burned with 
 that curious reverence, that very slavery of admiration which 
 Mrs. Ducey or whatever extraordinary character Mrs. 
 Ducey assumed in Nance s own transfiguring vision always 
 aroused in her. "Did she really an truly want to come an 
 see me, Nat ? Did she want to take me to her home ?" She 
 gazed at him, with parted lips, ecstatically. 
 
 "Yes, but we I T wouldn t let her, you know, Nance," 
 said Nathan, guiltily, feeling that he had made a mistake. 
 "I thought maybe you wouldn t " 
 
 "Oh, Nathan, I d do anything for her, I d go anywhere 
 she said!" 
 
 The tailor s wife let Nat out, and lighted him down the 
 rickety stair, wiping her lips, with a baby grasping a half- 
 eaten sausage over her fat shoulder; and with many sympa 
 thetic sighs and ejaculations about "Du lieber Gott," and 
 the "schone madchen" "you are vot it iss you say ? 
 versprecht, hein ? to be married, so?" she asked eagerly. 
 And Mr. Burke, who knew and knows no German, had 
 some trouble to make her understand that such was not the 
 case; he left her benevolently smiling, still unconvinced. 
 
 To tell the truth, the question of Nance s future had al 
 ready begun to occupy Burke s mind. Darnell s death left 
 her absolutely alone in the world; Nat himself knew what 
 that solitary estate meant, and he did not need to be told 
 how much worse it would be for a woman than for a man. 
 He held that he had promised her father to take care of Nance; 
 even if he had not, it would be the least he could do for the 
 sake of auld lang syne and the countless good turns poor old 
 Jake had done him. The most acceptable solution was prob 
 ably the one she herself would furnish; to go back to the 
 country and the farm where her father had squatted and 
 built, and live there and doubtless, Nathan reflected, 
 speedily marry some young man of the neighborhood. Or, 
 
154 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 perhaps, to take refuge with the Williamses or any other f am 
 ity thereabouts, a thing which was often done, but did not 
 seem practicable somehow with a girl of Nance s tempera 
 ment, any more than going out to service here in town, 
 another alternative which occurred to Nathan. This was 
 no time, with her father still lying unburied, to talk to her 
 about ways and means, however let to-morrow, for the 
 moment, at least, take care of itself, he thought. 
 
 The streets were still crowded with people, the taverns 
 receiving and discharging scores of patrons, the bands going 
 full-blast in the State-house yard, turn by turn. Nat 
 stalked through the riot with his aching head, and if he had 
 been given to moralizing, might, I daresay, have delivered a 
 very pretty sermon on the hideous shifts and contrasts of 
 human life something which, in fact, the Reverend Mr. 
 Sharpless did that ensuing Sunday, and greatly edified his 
 large congregation, a few of whom had been witnesses to the 
 awful occurrence which he used in illustration. There was a 
 light in the doctor s office, which one reached by a stair cling 
 ing to the outside of a frame building that stood about mid 
 way of the square between High and Third; there was a 
 grocery store in the lower story, I remember it s all gone 
 long ago, and a theatre has been built over the place. Burke, 
 who was in pretty stout health all his younger days, had 
 never had occasion to visit a physician before; he mounted 
 the stair and found Vardaman sitting rather gloomily, with 
 folded arms, in the bare little room, enveloped in clouds of 
 tobacco-smoke. He knocked out his pipe which was an 
 odd and beautiful foreign-looking instrument of a delicate 
 ivory color with a female head and bust elaborately executed 
 thereon, the first meerschaum, in fact, which Burke had ever 
 seen, and he eyed it with corresponding interest the 
 doctor knocked out his pipe with hardly a word and began 
 operations. 
 
 "It will make a slight scar we let it go a little too long," 
 he said after he had set in a stitch or two, and washed and 
 bound up the wound, "however, that won t spoil your beauty 
 much you re lucky to get off so easily. A little more 
 towards the temple and I fear, sir, there would have been a 
 dead ?" he paused in the act of drying his hands on a very 
 large, clean, white towel, and surveyed Nathan keenly 
 
NANCE BEGINS THE WORLD 155 
 
 and rather whimsically "a dead lawyer? a dead 
 doctor ?" 
 
 "Neither one a dead bookkeeper/ said Nat, grinning; 
 "an accountant with Mr. Marsh I mean with DUCEY & 
 COMPANY " he added hastily. 
 
 The doctor, who was a man some six or eight years Burke s 
 senior, with a lean, harsh-featured face, eyed him again, "I 
 thought I remembered seeing you before somewhere," he said; 
 "it must have been at Mr. Marsh s at DUCEY & COM 
 PANY S, I mean, of course," he finished smoothly, with a 
 perfectly grave side-glance. 
 
 "That wasn t the first time, though, Doctor Vardaman," 
 said Burke, biting back a smile. 
 
 "Not the first time?" 
 
 "I don t suppose you remember going out in the country 
 once five or six years ago to patch up a boy that had fallen 
 out of a hay-mow and put his shoulder out of joint?" Nat 
 asked him a little shyly. 
 
 Vardaman laid down the pipe, which he had begun to clean 
 preparatory to refilling, and looked at his patient, surprised 
 and interested. "Why, good Lord, yes, I do I remember 
 it very well now you speak of it. I had forgotten all about 
 it, though," he said frankly. "It was before I went away 
 went to Leipzig to study," he added, his glance falling on the 
 meerschaum as if it served to remind him. "You were one 
 of my first cases I d only been studying a couple of years 
 then." He went over and felt Nathan s shoulder critically. 
 
 "It was a good job," Burke assured him, laughing. And 
 as they stood, they heard a foot on the stair, and, without 
 any ceremony of knocking, in walked young Sharpless. 
 "Hello, Jack, I " he began, and stopped short upon seeing 
 the other. 
 
 "Don t you know this young man, Jim? I thought you 
 knew him," said the doctor. 
 
 "Oh, yes, we ve met," Sharpless said, and with his odd, 
 illuminating smile he went up and shook Burke s hand. 
 
CHAPTER XII 
 THE MAIL-BAG 
 
 Mrs. William Ducey to 
 
 Mrs. Cornelia Marsh at 
 
 Chenonville, Avoyelles Parish, La. (No date) 
 
 MY DEAREST MOTHER: 
 
 Well I suppose you have been wondering what has become 
 of us all this long while but I have simply been too busy to 
 write and then all kinds of things have been happening. At 
 first I thought maybe I d better not tell you for fear of worry 
 ing you but that didn t seem quite right somehow and I 
 never did believe in keeping people in ignorance that way 
 so I may as well come right out flat and say that we nearly 
 had an aweful accident and it s a blessing and a mercy we 
 aren t all dead this minute. Nobody that is none of the 
 family was even scratched though so you must not get 
 frightened. 
 
 It was on Washington s Birthday when we all went to see 
 the Log-Cabin parade they gave here in the grand Whig 
 Rally, you know. They ve had them all over the country 
 so I suppose maybe you had one too. You never saw any 
 thing like this town for the whole week before crowded to the 
 very roofs and some people they say sleeping in the streets 
 all night. 
 
 When we first heard about the procession I wanted to go 
 down and look at it from the room over the store but Uncle 
 George was so disagreeable and plainly didn t want us there 
 that I quietly gave it up without having any fuss with him 
 of course nor any argument. Uncle George is really getting 
 to be a very old man and never was easy to get along with as 
 you know. I can tell by the way William acts that he leads 
 them a life at the store and William simply will not assert 
 himself he has such an idea of being respectful to Uncle 
 George. He can t get over the feeling that he is under obli 
 gations to Uncle George when goodness knows there s not 
 
 156 
 
THE MAIL-BAG 157 
 
 another man in the world who would put up with poor old 
 Uncle George a minute. And as to obligations it seems to me 
 Uncle George owes us something for the way he treated you 
 when Pa died. I have heard you say though that it was 
 always dreadfully hard for Pa to stand him so you can imag 
 ine what it s like now and especially as his age is making 
 Uncle George more cantankerous than ever. 
 
 However as I say I didn t have any words with him it s 
 so much better to be calm and firm and not squabble. I just 
 made up my mind to take our party in the carriage and drive 
 down to the corner of Long and High and see the procession 
 from the carriage. Just to show you how contrary Uncle 
 George has grown to be the minute he heard about it he began 
 to grumble again! The trouble with him was he had gotten 
 it into his head that we oughtn t to see it at all on account of 
 the crowds or something and I suppose there were some dis 
 reputable people among them but what difference did that 
 make to us ? But nothing would have satisfied him but for 
 me to say Well we ll stay at home. I just went on and made 
 arrangements without bothering about him any more. Nina 
 Clarke was staying here, and I invited Mrs. Hunter and 
 Jennie she s just Francie s age and they are the greatest 
 friends and that with Nina and myself just filled the carriage 
 with George driving because of course we didn t want to 
 give up a seat to Joseph the hired man you know he s not a 
 very good driver anyhow and George is splendid the best I 
 ever saw. He understands horses thoroughly and isn t 
 afraid of anything don t you remember how wonderfully he 
 used to ride his little pony ? William went up to the Neil 
 House with a party of friends. He would have come with us 
 but those were some men he had to entertain the town has 
 been full of visitors. We drove down to the corner and there 
 was a perfect jam. The other people in carriages had had 
 their horses taken out but I knew ours were safe only I think 
 Joseph must have fed them something that morning that 
 disagreed with them and made them fractious George says 
 he is sure of it because they began to prance the minute they 
 heard the first band. And then ever so many people were 
 yelling and waving their hats and handkerchiefs right under 
 our horses noses wouldn t you think they might have had 
 better sense because the people standing around so close were 
 
158 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 in much more danger from the horses than we were whenever 
 they began to cut up. Anyway in about ten minutes there 
 came along one of those huge floats with a boat on it life-size 
 full of men and behind it another with a brass band playing 
 like fury and then one of the Log-Cabins on a float all to 
 itself. And when the horses saw that they just stood right 
 straight up on their hind legs! Georgie was as cool and col 
 lected as could be he told me afterwards his heart didn t 
 even go one beat faster I tell you mine did. He just stood 
 up and took the whip to them and called out in an encourage- 
 ing and soothing voice but the people were screaming so I 
 suppose the horses couldn t hear him. And then while they 
 were prancing and before he could get them quieted along 
 came the Log-Cabin float and an old drunken man sitting in 
 the doorway and I suppose he got frightened seeing the horses 
 so close and he fell right out and rolled under the wheels and 
 broke his neck wasn t it awful ? 
 
 I kind of feel as if it were partly our fault because of course 
 it was our horses but William says for me not to worry. I 
 couldn t have helped it. And I am sure we all did our best. 
 The reins got jerked out of George s hands somehow and he 
 had to jump out and was going to run up and grab the horses 
 bits but before he could get there it was all over and the man 
 was killed. George was terribly shocked so he couldn t get 
 out of bed to go and testify before the coroner the next day 
 but they came and took what they call a sworn statement 
 from all of us and he told them just how it happened as he 
 lay in bed. 
 
 We were all awfully scared and Francie fainted dead away. 
 But there were a whole lot of men around in a minute and 
 Jim Sharpless and Doctor Vardaman came and helped us out 
 and you ought to have seen that smart little Jennie Hunter 
 fanning Francie and wetting her forehead and doing every 
 thing to bring her around just as capable and managing like 
 a little woman! They sent for William and we all got home 
 somehow. I ll never want to see another procession if I 
 live to be a hundred. They picked the poor old drunken man 
 up and took him away somewhere but Ma you never saw 
 anything like the girl that was with him his daughter. She s 
 a perfect beauty tall with one of those rich olive complexions 
 and lovely features and great black eyes only about eighteen 
 
THE MAIL-BAG 159 
 
 or nineteen years old I think with the most graceful figure like 
 a statue although she hadn t on a sign of corsets or hoops- 
 She looked just like that beautiful steel-engraving of the 
 " Gypsy Queen" in the front of that " Flowers-of-Loveliness " 
 Annual book William gave me last New Year s. It s the book 
 with the red cover all over gilt scrolls I have on the centre- 
 table in the parlor. I never saw such a magnificent looking 
 creature as she was as she stood by her father s body. I just 
 couldn t get her out of my head I thought about her all night. 
 They wouldn t let me speak to her at the time but I found 
 out all about her from Nathan Burke who knows her it 
 seems. Her father s name was Darnell and hers is Nance and 
 Nathan told me they were children together up at the farm 
 on the Scioto where he comes from. I went down and had a 
 talk with Nathan at the store and asked all about her. He 
 said her. mother died long ago like his own parents and Dar 
 nell was very good to him when he was a little fellow he said 
 he and Nance were just like brother and sister. She was 
 staying with the people where they took her father s body 
 named Lauterbach (Germans) a tailor. So I said Nathan I 
 want you to take me straight there now the inquest is over 
 before she goes away or they do anything. I want to see 
 that poor girl and what is she going to do now her father is 
 dead do you know ? He looked worried and said he didn t 
 know and perhaps it would be better to wait until Darnell 
 was buried before asking her any questions like that he 
 thought she had enough to distress her right now. But I 
 said Yes that s very well meant but it s a mistaken kindness. 
 Our duty is to the living first not to the dead, and after all I 
 daresay when she thinks about how drunk he was all the time, 
 she feels that his death is maybe the best thing that could 
 have happened. The right thing to do would be to find out 
 what plans she has made and whether we can help her. He 
 said he didn t think Nance could possibly have made any 
 plans yet. Well then I just told him I can help her that very 
 way. I ve had so much experience and I m very good at 
 planning and directing everybodj^ that s ever known me has 
 always noticed it. And I know I could help her. And be 
 sides I feel a kind of responsibility about her on account of 
 the way her father was killed. It s a terrible thing for a 
 young girl like that to be left alone in the world without any 
 
160 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 father or mother because with a girl of her class it s a real mis 
 fortune to be so pretty. So he gave in at last and said he sup 
 posed women knew more about each other even when they were 
 strangers than any man could and so he went with me and left 
 me there because he had to go right back to the store. I wish 
 you could see Nathan Ma he s so much improved and talks 
 and acts just like a man you know he always was rather an 
 old acting boy. William says he s a very fair clerk and steady 
 the way he always used to be. 
 
 Well the Lauterbach place was perfectly awful knee-deep 
 in dirt and swarming with children and I had to tell the tailor- 
 woman Mrs. Lauterbach to wash off a chair before I could 
 sit down on it. But really that poor Darnell girl was just as 
 beautiful as ever even in that horrid hole and so sweet when 
 I said I don t see how you can stand this nasty place she said 
 They re very good to me. As if anybody wouldn t be good 
 to her the poor young thing. It was exactly as Nathan said 
 she hadn t an idea in her head about what she was going to 
 do next. They are going to bury her father out there in the 
 backwoods and she said Nathan had seen to everything and 
 would help her take the body out. But when I said Why my 
 poor child you haven t got any mourning have you ? she 
 looked kind of bewildered and wan ted to know what that was? 
 So I told her she must have some kind of black dress and bon 
 net she said Pap likes me in red just as though he were in the 
 next room and could see her. I told her I d get her some black 
 things and if they didn t fit we could alter them afterwards. 
 And then I just went on and told her what I d planned out 
 for her. I wanted her to come and live with me and I d 
 teach her to do fine sewing and be upstairs-girl and a sort of 
 maid you know Ma and she d have a good home of course 
 not very much wages at first because she would have to be 
 taught so much but I know she will learn soon and like it 
 and be happy and above all protected. You see Ma I had 
 thought it all out and made up my mind before I went to see 
 her because I knew she couldn t possibly do anything that 
 would be better and I m such a judge of girls with all the expe 
 rience I ve had I know a good one when I see one. I ve always 
 had to teach them more or less and sometimes pay them just 
 as high wages as if they knew everything but of course Nance 
 won t expect that so that it will be a wise arrangement all 
 
THE MAIL-BAG 161 
 
 around. As soon as I ve got that frightful glaring red dress 
 off of her and put her in a neat black and-white dotted calico 
 with an apron and taught her a few things she ll be the best 
 girl we ever had and certainly it will be nice to have some 
 body around that is so pretty to look at. The last one had 
 just a few old snags of teeth left tho she was a young woman 
 and was so slatternly. Just now I haven t anybody but a 
 woman who comes in by the day and you know that is always 
 so expensive altho William never says a word. I wouldn t 
 mind if one could only get a little work out of them but this 
 one makes a dreadful fuss every time we have company and 
 Francie and I have to make all the beds and do the dusting. 
 I shall feel fixed for life when Nance comes she s just the kind 
 to stay with us forever I know she s so appreciative. When 
 I told her the plan the poor thing was so happy and grateful 
 it was touching. She kept saying You want me to come and 
 live with you You want me to come and live with you over 
 and over again and looked at me as if I were an angel from 
 Heaven. We settled it right then and there and she is to 
 come as soon as her father is buried and she has packed up 
 what things she wants from their cabin. I expect she hasn t 
 got a great deal. She doesn t even know whether the farm 
 they lived on was their own her father just squatted there and 
 I guess he didn t do much farming only fished and hunted 
 when he was sober enough to. She can read and write she 
 says. 
 
 William says it s a splendid plan but then he hardly ever 
 finds fault with any of my plans and you know yourself Ma I 
 seldom make mistakes. But what do you think happened ? 
 I really want to tell you this for it s a good story and a kind of 
 a joke. After supper that evening who should turn up but 
 Nathan Burke! And looking very much like a gentleman 
 too I told him so because I knew it would please him and he 
 colored up like anything so I could see he was perfectly de 
 lighted. He had on nice clothes and you know he has rather 
 high thin features and always did keep his teeth so clean and 
 white and has a clean looking skin. But when I saw him at 
 first I was dumbfounded for it hardly seemed possible that 
 he could have come to make a call not that it wouldn t 
 be all right of course but you know one can t quite forget 
 that after all he was our hired man and not so very long ago 
 
162 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 either. The minute I saw him I thought Good Gracious he 
 can t have come to see Francie! She s getting to that age 
 and has spindled up like everything this last few months 
 you ll hardly know her. However it seemed Nathan hadn t 
 come to see her altho he spoke to her of course when he came 
 in but after we sat down he began on me right away without 
 any beating about the bush Mrs. Ducey is this true what 
 Nance tells me that she is coming here to live ? I said Yes. 
 Well then he said On what footing ? What will she be ? I 
 haven t been able to make out from what she says? Why 
 Nathan I said it s just as simple as can be no mystery about it 
 at all and I told him the whole thing. He listened without 
 once interrupting or saying a solitary word. But after I 
 got thro he began Ma and he talked and talked! I m sure I 
 never expected to hear him do so much talking. He said he 
 was quite certain Nance didn t understand in the least what 
 I wanted of her that she knew nothing whatever about ladies 
 maids or working out or how people lived in town. And he 
 didn t believe I could train her the way I wanted she wouldn t 
 be a servant and she couldn t be a companion. He said he 
 knew her thoroughly and she wasn t fitted by nature for any 
 such position and the experiment wouldn t be fair to either 
 one of us. He said You know Mrs. Ducey in everything 
 that matters in all the important things you and Nance would 
 both do what was right and perhaps sacrifice yourselves and 
 your own feelings without a murmur but it s the little every 
 day things that count when people live together in the same 
 house and that make life easy or hard. And when you think 
 how differently you and Nance have been brought up and 
 what different ways you must have of looking at things it s 
 not to be expected that you could get along together. 
 
 Did you ever Ma ? That s the first time I was ever told 
 I had such a disposition I couldn t get along with anybody. 
 And by Nathan too of all people in the world ! Of course he 
 didn t say it in so many words but anyone could see that that 
 was what he meant. He just judges of course like any other 
 man by the times I have to change servants. But anyone 
 that lived in my house two weeks would know that that 
 wasn t my fault. It s these horrid girls we have to employ. 
 Anyhow I said to him Well Nathan I never expected to hear 
 you preaching at this rate. He said he knew that he took a 
 
THE MAIL-BAG 163 
 
 great deal on himself to interfere but that her father had once 
 said something to him about taking care of Nance and he 
 could not stand by and see us go into this plan without tell 
 ing us what he thought about it and he had talked to Nance 
 and tried to persuade her out of it. So then I said Well what 
 do you want her to do Nathan let s hear your plan of course 
 it s a great deal better. He said flat he hadn t any. I said 
 Well it s a deal easier to tell people what not to do than what 
 to do it seems. I d think up something better for Nance if 
 I were in your place before I came here and raised all these 
 objections. He said no doubt I was perfectly right never 
 theless he thought neither one of us understood what we were 
 doing and that he ought to tell us. Why I said Nathan you 
 talk as if Nance wasn t going to be happy here when I m 
 doing everything I can to give her a good home and make 
 her happy. He said you know Mrs. Ducey people would 
 generally rather be unhappy their own way than happy in 
 somebody else s. 
 
 Well I can t remember all the argument I ve only given 
 you an outline of it here but I stood firm. I don t lay claim 
 to many virtues but there is one thing I know I ve got and 
 that is strength of character. All our family have that. I know 
 when I m right. So Nathan at last went away and Nance 
 is coming just the same. His persistance was so queer I 
 couldn t imagine why he took the whole business so much to 
 heart but when Georgie heard about it he put his ringer right 
 on the root of it at once. You know he is very quick and 
 sometimes alarms me with his keen judgments I think it s a 
 little unnatural at his age. He said Why I shouldn t wonder 
 if Nathan was in love with that Darnell girl and he don t 
 like to think of her being our servant tho he was himself. 
 That would be just like him. Why I said of course I don t 
 know why I didn t think of that before. She s a beautiful 
 girl and that accounts for all his earnestness. But why don t 
 he marry her and be done with it ? George said he guessed 
 he couldn t afford to be married yet. And then Francie 
 burst out in the most furious way that we didn t either of us 
 know a thing about it and that Nathan was not ashamed of 
 having been our hired man he was above it and he was not 
 in love with the Darnell girl and if he was it was none of our 
 business and then she got so excited and crying I had to send 
 
164 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 her to bed. I told her for form s sake that she must apologize 
 to me for being so rude but you know Ma she never will and 
 I ll just have to pass it over. She s nothing but a child and 
 got into a temper about nothing. I m a little afraid for 
 Francie s disposition anyhow she seems so stubborn. I don t 
 know where she gets it. Dear Sister Connie was always the 
 sweetest gentlest creature on earth and gave in to everybody 
 except that one time when you refused to let her marry 
 Francis and she shut herself in her room and wouldn t eat 
 anything nor speak to anybody and got us all so frightened 
 and then ran away after all. 
 
 I must close this terrific long letter. I don t know whether 
 you can read some of the pages where I ve crossed them. 
 Love to everybody from 
 
 Your devoted child ANNE. 
 
 Mrs. William Ducey to 
 Mrs. Stevenson Desha at 
 Frankfort, Ky. 
 
 May 21, 184- 
 MY DEAR LITTLE SlSTEB BETTY, 
 
 Ma arrived safe and sound and looking better than I ever 
 saw her which speaks volumes for your Kentucky fried 
 chicken and hoe-cake. I wish I had some this minute. 
 Letty Baker and the children came with her but they won t 
 be here long as Mr. Baker is coming to take them East to visit 
 his mother and we ll be alone again in a couple of weeks. I 
 am rather glad for once as we are a little upset in the kitchen 
 department and that girl I told you about the one I took to 
 train is not much good there. She seems willing but she is 
 rather dull and has fits of the sulks from time to time. And 
 then whenever she s had one of her tantrums she comes crying 
 like everything and begging my pardon in the most awful 
 tragic way as if she had killed somebody so that it gets my 
 nerves all on edge. However I am going to peg along and 
 see if I can t civilize her in time. 
 
 You seemed so surprised to hear that Georgie was at home 
 but he has been ever since Christmas I thought you knew it. 
 We sent him to Miami University in the fall you know but I 
 soon saw from his letters that it was no place for him. So 
 when he came home for the holidays we simply had him stay 
 
THE MAIL-BAG 165 
 
 home and none of the professors have ever written to inquire 
 or seemed to care in the least bit which proves what Georgie 
 says that tney are all a set of perfect boors no manners and 
 no ideas of the world. He says that is what disgusted him 
 almost from the start. The school is full of a lot of rough 
 young fellows farmer boys and such from all over the country 
 not at all the sort of associates we should select for George 
 who has always had such naturally refined ways. George 
 says you ought to see the style they dress pantaloons tucked 
 into their boots and corduroy pea-jackets some of them. You 
 can see they aren t gentlemen he says. One example will 
 give you an idea. They have some kind of club just started 
 that they call the Beta Theta Pi which is a Hebrew word 
 meaning the Brothers George told me when I asked him it s 
 perfectly wonderful what a taste for languages George has 
 nothing s too hard for him he told me Hebrew was quite 
 easy to learn. Well he said to one of the boys in a perfectly 
 polite and gracious way that he would join this club and the 
 boy just turned round and growled as rough as could be 
 Better wait till you re asked ! And George says that was the 
 last he ever heard of it so he knows that boy never even men 
 tioned it. The truth is George says there was a great deal of 
 jealousy of him among all the boys in his class and of course 
 that influenced the whole school. It s natural those coarse 
 young men should dislike anybody who is so well-dressed and 
 so much above them in appearance and position to say noth 
 ing of his leading his class all the time in studies. We are in 
 hopes it will be different at Kenyon College where we have 
 decided to send him next fall. George is quite a young man 
 now going out to see the girls every evening. I can scarcely 
 believe that I am the mother of that great tall long-legged 
 thing. He has a latch-key which of itself makes him seem 
 older. 
 
 There is not much news here except that the engagement 
 between Louise Gwynne and John Vardaman has been broken 
 off. You know they ve been engaged a year it happened 
 last summer when you were here don t you remember ? I 
 heard the whole of it from her mother about the quarrel I 
 mean when I was there the other day. It began last winter 
 with a fuss they had at the procession that very day we nearly 
 had such a terrible accident and my hired girl s father was 
 
166 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 killed I wrote Ma about it at the time. The doctor had taken 
 Louise down in his buggy to see the parade and then when 
 the accident happened of course he jumped right out and ran 
 to help and left Louise sitting there alone for nearly an hour 
 with the crowd all around and she was perfectly furious and 
 would hardly speak to him afterwards and now the engage 
 ment s broken. Of course it must have been disagreeable for 
 Louise to be alone there all the while a young girl in such a 
 conspicuous position but dear me nobody had any time to 
 look at her and what would she have had the doctor do I d 
 like to know ? Some women are so unreasonable. I told 
 her mother so right out but you never saw anything so silly 
 as Marian Gwynne she s just like a tiger-cat about Louise 
 and you can t find fault with a single thing Louise says or 
 does Marian is right up in arms. She thinks Louise is per 
 fect. Of course Louise is an only child and all that Marian 
 has got in the world but my Georgie is an only child too for 
 that matter and we don t spoil him to quite that extent. I 
 can t help feeling sorry for Jack Vardaman he s such a nice 
 fellow and all his people were so nice. He has just bought a 
 place out in the country next to Governor Gwynne s and was 
 going to start building their house this summer. I do hope 
 Louise will come around and make it up but it s not likely 
 she hasn t got that red head for nothing. And besides she 
 has a lot of attention from the men and it s sort of turned her 
 head I think. I can t understand what they see in her. 
 
 Talking about this makes me think of Mary Sharpless you 
 know she is all the time having a desperate flirtation with 
 somebody Mary will never get too old for that and anyway 
 she s the youngest looking thing you ever saw. Nobody 
 would say she was a day over twenty. Everybody says Mary 
 would be willing to console Doctor Vardaman but he won t 
 give her a chance. You know he has money outside of his 
 practice and money is what Mary s after. It s a horrid thing 
 to say but it s true and somehow I can t blame her. A minis 
 ter s family always have such a scuffle to get along and never 
 have enough to live on and Jim doesn t help them at all. I 
 see him sometimes on the street and oh Betty it s aweful my 
 heart aches for poor Mrs. Sharpless Jim looks so seedy and 
 disreputable tho I never saw him drunk but I haven t a 
 doubt he is often. He doesn t live at home any more since 
 
THE MAIL-BAG 167 
 
 he had that awful quarrel with his father. He has a room in 
 some horrible low place down town and writes for the papers. 
 The trouble was you know he told Doctor Sharpless out and 
 out he didn t believe there was any God. Wasn t it terrible ? 
 Of course nobody knows what else he said I suppose he don t 
 believe in Heaven or Hell either anyway Mr. Sharpless or 
 dered him out of the house and nobody dares mention Jim 
 before any of them now. The strange thing is to look at Jim 
 you wouldn t believe he was that sort of a man. When we 
 had our accident he came and helped us and was lovely I don t 
 care who hears me say it. I went around and told everybody 
 about it afterwards. And someone said to me Why Mrs. 
 Ducey I don t see how you could let that man touch you 
 don t you know he s a blasphemer and an Atheist! I just 
 said Why I couldn t help it there were some mighty good 
 Christians standing around there but they never budged. I 
 never could help liking Jimmie Sharpless I suppose it s a 
 weakness but I forget all about how bad he is and anyway 
 I m not the only one because they say Doctor Vardaman likes 
 him and has him at the house often and the doctor is a good 
 Episcopalian. 
 
 Good-bye with dearest love to all from 
 
 Your loving sister 
 
 NAN. 
 
 Miss Frances Blake to 
 Mrs. Cornelia Marsh at 
 Chenonville, Avoyelles Parish, La. 
 
 November 12, 1840 
 
 MY DEAR GRANDMA, 
 
 Aunt Anne is sick in bed with a cold so she says I am to 
 write this time as she doesn t want you to miss hearing from 
 us as usual once a week. The cold began a week ago, bub 
 she took some medicine New London Bilious Pills which they 
 say will cure anything; it didn t cure her however and Aunt 
 Anne says she can t understand why people will deliberately 
 advertise and say their medicine will do this, that, and the 
 other when it doesn t. The doctor has just been here and 
 says she will be all right in a few days now and she particu 
 larly wants me to say to you that the cold is not dangerous. 
 While she has been sick I have been running the house, and 
 
168 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 Uncle Will says I have done very well. I oughtn t to say 7, 
 though, because of course Nance helped and wouldn t let 
 anybody wait on Aunt Anne but herself and kept Aunt Anne s 
 room beautifully. George being at college there wasn t so 
 much to do in the house. I am enclosing his last letter to 
 Aunt Anne for you to read and show to the rest of the family, 
 but she says please be sure and return it as she keeps all his 
 letters. They are not going to have George go to college 
 any more after this year. I believe he wants to stay at home 
 and study medicine with Doctor Vardaman. 
 
 The elections are all over in this State and I suppose nearly 
 everywhere else, too; I don t see why they don t have them 
 all on the same day in all the States ; it takes so long to hear 
 about them this way. They have had an enormous great black 
 board in front of a place down town with things like this on 
 it: "New Hampshire goes for Van Buren" "Another Sweep 
 ing Harrison Victory! Georgia Whig by 10,000 majority!" 
 It s been there for the whole two weeks while the elections 
 were going on, with men crowded around it half a dozen deep. 
 It s not very nice to go down town but I ve had to since Aunt 
 Anne s been sick, and nothing happened to me. One day as 
 I was coming home with a big package I met Mr. Sharpless 
 not the Reverend Mr. Sharpless, his son, I mean the 
 same one that was so kind to us when we had all that trouble 
 last winter, and he asked me if he couldn t carry my bundle. 
 Aunt Anne once told me that I could bow to him but I 
 mustn t talk to him, but the way this, happened I couldn t 
 very well help it, I just had to let him carry it. We didn t 
 have very far to go anyhow r . I told Aunt Anne when I got 
 home. I don t think he has enough to eat and he coughed a 
 good deal. On the way we met Nathan (Nathan Burke, you 
 know) and he said: "Jim, what are you doing out a day like 
 this? Go home and go to bed." And he took the bundle and 
 said he would take care of me the rest of the way. Mr. Sharp- 
 less laughed and coughed and said: "Without doubt, Nat, 
 you re more respectable to walk on the street with a young lady. 
 I give up." And looked at me and bowed and went away. So 
 Nathan took me home and I asked him why they said such 
 things about Mr. Sharpless who seems to me to be very nice; 
 and he said: "Because they don t know any better." I 
 asked him if they were friends, and he said "Yes, great 
 
THE MAIL-BAG 169 
 
 friends ever since we first met." I told him I was sure any 
 body he liked must be nice, and he laughed a little and then 
 said: "Francie, you are a dear little girl and always were! " 
 And we shook hands at the door. He really ought not to call 
 me a little girl, as I ve got on long skirts now because Aunt 
 Anne said I was getting too tall to be in short ones any more. 
 It s because he knows how old I am; Mr. Sharpless behaved 
 exactly as if I were a grown-up young lady. This was the 
 only adventure I had going out by myself, and you can see it 
 wasn t a very exciting one. 
 
 We are all so glad Mr. Harrison was elected and Mr. 
 Corwin too. I told Uncle George I supposed everything was 
 going to be all right now we had a Whig President at last, 
 and he laughed and said the country was saved for about the 
 tenth time in his recollection. 
 
 We sent George a big box for his birthday as he says the 
 things there aren t fit to eat. Perhaps you won t understand 
 one thing he says in his letter about how is our guest getting 
 along ? He means Nance Darnell, you know. George 
 doesn t like her. 
 
 I have to stop writing now and go see about Aunt Anne s 
 supper. With ever so much love, 
 
 FRANCIE. 
 Mr. George Ducey to 
 
 Mrs. William Ducey. 
 
 Gambler, Ohio, 
 
 November 5, 1840. 
 MY DEAR MOTHER; 
 
 I omitted my customery epistle as I was feeling far 
 from well at that time. It was nothing for you to be anxious 
 about however, only a low fever for a few hours at a time 
 with an ocasional prolonged shivering fit acompanied by 
 pains in the back of the head and eyes and an aversion to 
 eating ammounting almost to nausea and some other trifling 
 simptoms. There has been a good deal of typhus fever about 
 here but of course that may have nothing to do in connection 
 with my alements and I do beg and entreat of you not to give 
 it a thought if you miss hearing from me. I don t mean to 
 let myself get sick but if I do I guess I can pull through with 
 out troubling you. I had to have the doctor of course and 
 the last time he came he said Well. Ducey you are a wonder. 
 I never in my life saw such fortatude. Any other man in your 
 
170 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 place would be making his will/ I told him I got it from 
 my mother who never gave up, and was the finest and strongest 
 character I ever knew. He said he envied me and wished he 
 could meet you. He is a splendid fellow and a giant in his 
 profession, a really remarkable man to be buried in this little 
 out-of-the-way hole which is a perfect extingisher for genius 
 and abillities, college-town though it is. 
 
 It is no wonder really that I have an aversion to eating for 
 the table here is something execrable altho I am at the best 
 boarding-house in town. However I suppose I will get used 
 to it and I want you to understand you are not to worry 
 about me. I mean to get along somehow. 
 
 I suppose your guest is going on as usual and making the 
 house unpleasant for everybody acording to her habit. If I 
 was in your place I never again would undertake that kind of 
 a charity. It s thrown away. Those country-people are a 
 poor lot physickally and mentally and haven t the faintest 
 idea of loyalty or gratatude. I saw a great deal of them the 
 day I went out hunting with our hired man Nathan What s 
 his-name I never can remember the fellow s last name. 
 And I assure you they were all common to a degree. 
 
 This old place goes on the same as I wrote you before. The 
 professors, I regret to say, altho they make a little better 
 apearance than those at Miami are at heart exactly the same. 
 They are dull unfinished fellows that couldn t make a success 
 at the Eastern schools so have drifted out here. I can hardly 
 keep up any interest in the lectures or recitations, I suppose 
 because I am rather in advance of my class and the other men 
 of my age. They look at me in perfect wonder; and to be 
 plain don t like it very much. I have been so much amused 
 to see some of the instructors fairly quale and look anxiously 
 around when I came in and took my seat. You see they are 
 afraid I am going to ask questions which they can t answer 
 as that has happened several times and nothing takes a pro 
 fessor down so much as to have that happen in class. They 
 just can t stand it, and regard me as an enemy. They really 
 don t care to have bright men in their classes. They would 
 a great deal rather have very ordinary pupils who they can 
 lecture and dictate to, and who believe every word they say. 
 I ve investigated this college question thoroughly now, and 
 this is my mature judgement. 
 
THE MAIL-BAG 171 
 
 The people here as is always the way in such places make 
 their living off of the students so that my very modderate 
 pocket-money don t go very far. It takes almost all of it for 
 washing, mending, candles, firewood, and ct. However don t 
 worry nor send me any more as with pinching and scrimping 
 I can make out. For instance I can go without a fire except 
 the very bitterest days, and even then I could wrap up in my 
 overcoat as I sit here, and that would be quite a saving. I 
 meant to have a pair of boots re-soled but I guess I can man 
 age without. The only thing is I am a little afraid of catching 
 cold as they are really too thin for this weather, and I don t 
 want to get another of these attacks. But I ve got a good 
 constitution and would probably survive it. I ll not deny 
 that I like to apear well-dressed and show these bumpkins 
 what a gentleman should look like but even with my small 
 means I look better than any of them. And I have been a 
 good deal surprised to have some of them come up and tell me 
 I had the most polished manners they ever saw. I didn t 
 suppose they would appretiate it. 
 
 Now please don t worry about my having so little money or 
 being sick. I shall be delighted to get home for Christmas. 
 
 Your devoted son, 
 
 GEORGE MARSH DUCEY. 
 Mrs. William Ducey to 
 
 Mrs. Cornelia Marsh. 
 
 December 1840 
 MY DEAR MA, 
 
 Your letter has come and thank you so much for returning 
 Georgie s so promptly. Did all the family see it ? I knew 
 they would just be fighting to read it George s letters are 
 always so ... [word illegible]. Oh Mother isn t it glo 
 rious to have such a son ? Do you notice how thoughtful 
 the dear boy is about me and how he struggled to keep back 
 anything he thought might pain me ? Wasn t it noble f Of 
 course we sent him fifty dollars right away and I am not going 
 to let him go back to that horrid place after New Year s I m 
 sure the climate and food must be perfectly poisonous. For 
 all he is so brave and patient you can read between the lines 
 and see how he was suffering when he wrote that letter. 
 That accounts for those w r ords misspelled I know his head 
 was burning so he hardly knew what he was writing and I 
 
172 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 think its pathetic his anxiety to hide it from me. Anyhow he 
 don t need to go to college you can see he has gone farther 
 than any of the teachers and they can t tell him much of real 
 benefit. Doctor Vardaman is crazy for him to come home 
 and go into his office to study medicine. The doctor doesn t 
 say much you know but when I suggested it you should have 
 seen his face light up ! All he said was, Why, if George has 
 any bent for it certainly Mrs. Ducey I ll take him and give 
 him a trial. Jack Vardaman is always so careful and reticent. 
 In the meanwhile something very disagreeable has happened. 
 It s a good lesson to me never again to attempt any reforms. 
 George was perfectly right as usual in his estimate of the 
 Darnell girl s character. I only wonder why I was so blind 
 for so long. You know I was quite sick with a bad cold the 
 first of the month and poor Francie had to run the house all 
 by herself the child is not in the least to blame as she couldn t 
 be expected to see to everything. I might have suspected 
 something myself when I saw how unnaturally devoted 
 Nance was to me hardly letting anybody go into the room or 
 touch me but herself. Of course this isolation gave her op 
 portunities and I was too sick to notice anything. . . . 
 
 (The rest of this letter is missing. The fragment was torn 
 almost in two, and discolored with something like tea or coffee 
 stains. M. S. W.) 
 
CHAPTER XIII 
 
 WHICH RAMBLES CONSIDERABLY 
 
 IN after years Burke used to recall the fruitless effort he 
 made to direct Nance Darnell s career with an ironic melan 
 choly. I am afraid it was a rather priggish and pompous 
 young man a very young man with no slight sense of his 
 own importance and the weight of his judgment who went up 
 and laid his adverse arguments before Mrs. Ducey that even 
 ing when he found out the ill-starred design she had" formed. 
 All that redeemed him was his devout sincerity; he meant 
 well, he thought he was doing his duty. Logic and common 
 sense sustained him (he believed). It never occurred to him 
 until he faced Mrs. Ducey in her sitting-room that logic and 
 common sense had nothing to do with the matter; that he 
 might as well appeal to the laws of mathematics and gravita 
 tion for all the effect his reasoning would have on this pretty, 
 warm-hearted, impulsive, and unyielding woman. And after 
 all, thought Nathan, as he walked away in his defeat, how 
 logical and how sensible were his objections ? Upon a stern 
 examination they resolved into nothing but a conviction as 
 deep-rooted, yet, without doubt, as utterly unreasonable as 
 any Mrs. Anne could possibly hold, that she and Nance would 
 never get along. He could no more argue himself out of that 
 belief than he could argue Mrs. Ducey into it. Nance Dar 
 nell in the Ducey household ! The idea assumed to him the 
 likeness of a wildly disagreeable joke, a goblin trick of Fate 
 but unfortunately that would not be a thesis calculated to 
 persuade or impress anybody. And supposing (he said to 
 himself) that this experiment is tried and fails as it is of a 
 surety foredoomed to fail what then ? Why, the heavens 
 will not fall. Nance will go elsewhere, take up some other 
 way of life that is all. Nothing tragic about that, nothing 
 to stir him to such painful anxiety. Yet he remembered the 
 girl s rapt face as she poured out to him this astonishing news 
 with a sharp sting of pity, a helpless foreboding. She was so 
 
 173 
 
174 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 happy, so bewildered in admiration, so pathetically uncon 
 scious of what Mrs. Ducey s interest really meant, that Nat 
 could not find it in his heart to darken her. In truth it 
 would have been almost impossible to make Nance compre 
 hend exactly what Mrs. Ducey s plan as regarded herself was; 
 she only knew that she was to live in the house with her god 
 dess; that this dazzling creature had noticed her, liked her, 
 wanted her, was enough for Nance. The backwoods does not 
 prepare young women for a useful career of domestic servi 
 tude; to take Nance from that liberal environment and fit 
 her to a neat little round of household duties, handcuff her 
 with a hundred conventions of behavior, of class and social 
 position, would be not merely a hopeless, but a heart-breaking 
 task. And certainly Mrs. Ducey was the last person in the 
 world who should attempt it. 
 
 What would happen when Nance discovered that her idol 
 had feet of clay ? That dingy tragedy occurs to all of us at 
 least once in our lives. Down he falls, our pet deity, out 
 goes the altar-fire, the tripod is overset, Lord bless me, the 
 sacrificial vessels are nothing but gilt tin, the wreaths are all 
 faded rags, and oh, what a bitter cup of disillusionment has 
 the libation become ! We all get over it, and go our ways, and 
 by and by erect a good new serviceable god of whom we are 
 careful not to ask too much. But Nance was not the temper 
 to accept this good-humored compromise ; there was nothing 
 easy-going about her beliefs, and the crash of her temple 
 would be a grim experience. Nathan, who by the way was 
 not indulging in these fine, high-flown metaphors, but setting 
 the matter before himself in very plain and sober language, 
 shrank from imagining the girl s anguish of disappointment. 
 He said all that he could, hinted all that he could to dissuade 
 her. I think he protested too much. But he might have 
 sworn upon a stack of Bibles: " Nance, your angel, Mrs. 
 Ducey, is no angel at all. She is a very good woman, but 
 she is impatient, she is tyrannical, she is inconsistent, she is 
 obstinate, she is as thoughtlessly brutal as a child. She is 
 interested in you not for yourself, for about your character 
 and individuality she cares no more than if you were her pet 
 canary, but because the spectacle of a creature so beautiful 
 and so destitute moves her to that kind of philanthropy which 
 is neither more nor less than benevolent meddling. In a 
 
WHICH RAMBLES CONSIDERABLY 175 
 
 little while she will forget all about your good looks ; you will 
 be to her like her marquetry desk, which is a lovely thing but 
 a nuisance to take care of. She will be out of patience with 
 your rough ways, your uncouth speech will offend her, she 
 will weary of teaching you, she will not understand your little 
 aspirations or will laugh at them, she will walk rough-shod 
 over your spirit, she will carelessly insult your dearest memo 
 ries. She will not mean to, Nance, her intentions are the 
 best in the world but have you the philosophy to remember 
 that?" And what good would this handsome long oration 
 have done ? None at all, and Nathan knew it. 
 
 No plan that he could have invented would have seemed to 
 Mrs. Ducey better than her own, but the young man was a 
 good deal handicapped by the knowledge that he could 
 think of none. The question: "Well, and what would you 
 have Nance do ? " closed his mouth. He could only reiterate 
 that he would not have her do this. He was fain at last to 
 give up the problem, to let matters take their course, yet it 
 was with a consciousness of disloyalty to Darnell s trust. He 
 promised himself that he would see Nance often, talk to her, 
 help her, perhaps try to explain the puzzling conditions of this 
 new life to her. The self-conceit of these resolves fills him 
 now with a derisive impatience. I think Mr. Burke s solemn 
 preachifying would not have done much good; but indeed 
 he never got so far, for on the few occasions when he saw 
 Nance while she was a member of the Ducey household, some 
 saving sense of humor, or common humanity, I hardly know 
 which, restrained him. 
 
 The truth is, Nat s life seemed to him very full, busy, and 
 varied at this time. He had just succeeded to Mr. Quill- 
 driver s desk, Mr. Marsh sent him to Gallipolis that summer, 
 to Chillicothe, to Lancaster, hither and yon. He talked with 
 great men in their counting-rooms, and wrote long letters 
 and carried grave reports to his tough old chief chewing 
 tobacco by the stove in the back office of DUCEY & Co. 
 The old man liked and trusted him in his harsh, measuring 
 way. When he heard that the young fellow was studying law, 
 he commended that ambition; he himself advanced the ten 
 dollars with which Nathan took out a notary s seal he 
 did not give it, in spite of his hearty approval, for that would 
 have been contrary to Mr. Marsh s notions of a proper busi- 
 
176 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 ness discipline. "It ll come handy, Nat; it s a kind of con 
 venience for me to have a notary right here in the store. 
 1 S -help-you-God,-forty-cents, hey? Ho, ho!" he said, 
 chuckling. " You ought to charge em forty cents every time 
 you swear em, you know. I guess you can write contracts 
 and conveyances, too, by this time, can t you ? And make 
 out an abstract of title, hey?" And Nat acknowledging 
 that he could, and did, and sometimes took in a little money 
 by these accomplishments, old George nodded his head ap 
 provingly. " That s right always have more than one 
 iron in the fire," said he. In other talks he gave Burke the 
 benefit of his accumulated worldly wisdom, letting in an oc 
 casional sidelight on his own shrewd and calculating, yet not 
 at all unkindly, character. By degrees and in odd hours at 
 the store he told the young man the whole of his hard, ad 
 venturous, conquering history; it was not the least interest 
 ing of the stories which have been confided to Mr. Burke s 
 extraordinarily receptive ear; and some of its details were of 
 real use to him in later years. 
 
 "Know how I came to settle here?" said the old man. 
 "Why, it happened this way. I came up from N Orleans 
 the summer of eighteen-twelve, close on to thirty years ago. 
 I was at Zanesville when I heard the proprietors there 
 were four of em, you know, that had undertaken with the 
 Government to get up a city here were going to auction 
 off the lots on the town site the first part of June. Soon as 
 I heard that I came along up here with a lot of others and 
 they began the sale the eighteenth the very day the 
 United States declared war against the old country. There 
 weren t anything but log-cabins here then, but they had the 
 whole place laid out on paper, High Street, Town Street, 
 everything. The sale went on for three days. First day 
 I did a little buying. Then I kind of hung off I was just 
 waiting round, you know, just waiting round, Nat," said 
 the old fellow, turning his quid and grinning. "Second 
 day a man I knew come to me and says, Why, Marsh, 
 ain t you bidding in any? I m bidding some, says I; 
 way things are going, I ve got to be careful, I told him. 
 Why, Lord, he says, you don t have to pay it all 
 down. They make the sales by title-bond, you know, and 
 you don t have to give but a third or fourth of the price and 
 
WHICH RAMBLES CONSIDERABLY 177 
 
 they ll take your notes for the rest/ I haven t got any 
 too much money/ says I; I just thought I d wait round 
 a little just wait round. Ye see, Nathan, I d sized up a 
 plenty of the buyers, and thinks I to myself: Gentlemen, 
 if you ve got the money to take up those notes as they come 
 due annually, I ll be surprised. Some of this property will 
 be on the market cheap inside of three or four years, or my 
 name ain t George Marsh. And, by damn, Nat, that s 
 exactly what happened. I settled right down here to keep 
 my eye on it. Twas going to be a kind of a lengthy business, 
 but I didn t know any better way to put in my time. In 
 about two years more than a third of the lots had come home 
 to roost, as you might say. Some fellow d make a payment 
 and put out all the cash he had on an improvement, and that 
 would bust him up. The lot would fall back to the pro 
 prietor. Well, the lots being in the proprietors hands and 
 their giving time on the payments kind of kept prices up 
 that is, from two to five hundred dollars a lot for four-five 
 years. I just kept waiting round. Once in a while I d 
 go off to Cincinnati, or N Orleans, or N York, but mostly 
 I stayed here. Then finally two of the proprietors failed 
 themselves and then maybe there wasn t a whaling lot 
 of land for sale! The United States Marshal and Sheriff 
 put the lots up at forced sale after they d appraised and 
 offered em two or three times, and money was so scarce in 
 the county they just had to sell. Some of em went for ten, 
 fifteen, twenty dollars." Old George jingled the coins in 
 his pockets significantly. "That Front Street piece was 
 one of em," he remarked. "I ve sold out most of what I 
 bought right here, but some I ve got over in the Refugee 
 Tract I ve held on to. Funny thing, the fellow that owned 
 that ought to have made a good thing out of it, for he bought 
 it himself at Sheriff s sale, but I guess he wasn t much of a 
 manager. 7 made money on that transaction, Nat." 
 
 Nathan thought he deserved to profit. The picture of old 
 George, canny and patient as a veteran cat at a mouse-hole, 
 was so characteristic, so naively humorous, that Burke 
 laughed with a deeper relish than his patron suspected. 
 These manoeuvres would have been beyond Nat s own 
 powers; he had not much turn for affairs, as indeed Marsh 
 knew perfectly well. It w r as the younger man s turn for hard 
 
178 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 work, his certain integrity, the gift of plain talk, and likewise 
 the gift of holding his tongue that won his senior s favor. 
 " You re doing right to try and make a lawyer of yourself, 
 Nathan," he said, not without a touch of regret. "It s what 
 you re cut out for you d never make much of an out at 
 this. You re the kind of man people naturally talk to 
 they want to tell their troubles to somebody, and they ve 
 got a feeling you re safe. You can t put that into men. 
 You ve got to be born that way; and it s a good thing to be 
 born with, no difference what you do, whether you re a 
 lawyer, or whatever you are." He finished almost with a 
 sigh which would have been a remarkable evidence of 
 sentiment from old George Marsh. It may be he was think 
 ing of his unavailing efforts to convert into " safe " men his 
 brother William Ducey or even young George. 
 
 Mr. George Marsh Ducey, to tell the truth, showed the 
 slightest possible disposition towards either the legal or the 
 mercantile career, or in fact a career of any sort. He was 
 at this time one of the most elegant young gentlemen it has 
 ever been Burke s lot to behold. This spring and summer 
 having returned from Miami University, a seat of learning 
 where he had been, as he very soon let everybody know, 
 entirely unappreciated, he used to visit the store occa 
 sionally, and even had a desk assigned to him in one corner 
 of the office. At least an hour daily did George occupy this 
 august eminence. He came down about ten o clock of a 
 summer morning, languid and exquisite in snowy white 
 ducks, with the dark blue coat, the marseilles waistcoat 
 delicately dotted with pink rosebuds, the rich satin scarf 
 with which the dandies of the day adorned themselves. 
 The clerks surveyed him in measureless admiration; old 
 Marsh raised his shock eyebrows and grunted when his name 
 sake strolled in, affable, Chesterfieldian, illuminating those 
 gloomy precincts with his gracious presence, "shedding fra 
 grance" like the gods and goddesses in the Mneid. George 
 did not injure his health by too close application to business, 
 thereby following out his mother s anxious injunctions. His 
 desk was a miracle of neat order, and after he had read the 
 paper nothing else of moment ever occurred to disturb it. 
 He went home to dinner at noon, and spent the rest of the 
 day relaxed in what he himself had been overheard to style 
 
WHICH RAMBLES CONSIDERABLY 179 
 
 "the delights of female society." There was no lack of that 
 at the Ducey house, which still swarmed with visitors as it 
 had in Burke s day. How did Nance Darnell get on amongst 
 these decorative and decorated ladies ? George spoke of her 
 with a pleasing patronage; but he patronized us all, from his 
 uncle down, and I fear that George s opinions and sometimes 
 his reports were not always reliable. 
 
 "That Darnell girl has a dev lish tempah the tempah 
 of a devil, absolutely, Nathan," he remarked casually, 
 inspecting the other with his soft, dark, expressionless eyes; 
 "told her to black my boots the othah day and she flew out 
 of the room like a wildcat a regulah wildcat, b George ! 
 All but threw the boots in my face. Mothah had to go aftah 
 her and ordah her to do it she generally will obey Mothah, 
 you know. B George, that s the kind they take the whip to, 
 down South. A person in her position can t afford to have 
 that kind of a temper tempah. Twon t do in a servant, 
 you know." 
 
 Nathan listened in silence, biting his lips. It sometimes 
 seemed to. him that George made a point of detailing these 
 wretched scenes to him, forever dragging poor Nance into 
 the conversation, and flaunting her, as it were, in her character 
 of menial before Burke s face; not till long afterwards did 
 Nathan find out the reason. A greater man than he can 
 ever hope to be once said that the jokes of dull people are 
 always cruel; and no doubt George mightily fancied his own 
 powers of raillery, took it as a dainty bit of fun to remind the 
 ex-hired man of his humble beginnings and of the no less 
 humble situation of his lady-love. George was a little mis 
 taken in his estimate of Burke; the latter was not in love 
 with Nance Darnell, but had he been, and were Nance ten 
 times a servant, Nat would have felt neither shame nor 
 resentment at this graceful waggishness. What roused him 
 to ineffectual anger and pity was the thought of the poor 
 girl herself with her fanatic devotion, her ignorance, her 
 crooked pride, incongruously subject to George Ducey. 
 We may talk as much as we please about the dignity of hon 
 est toil, but, sir, how would you like to black the boots of the 
 man you despise? "She can t stand it very much longer 
 at this rate," thought Nat, and wondered at the vitality of 
 Nance s feeling for Mrs. Anne. 
 
180 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 "Mothah s been trying to teach her to read and write," 
 pursued George, in the mellow drawl which he carefully 
 affected of late, having been complimented on his charming 
 Southern pronunciation by some member of the " female 
 society " wherein he shone; "she said she knew how when 
 she came, but really she didn t, you know. Ton my word 
 it s ridiculous regulahly laughable. She brought Mothah 
 her slate with many spelled m, e, double n, y, you know, 
 and Mothah burst out laughing Mothah s full of fun, 
 and that was a little too much for her. Then off she went 
 Nance, I mean in anothah tantrum! Mothah says it s 
 terribly trying. Just think! Francie cried never could 
 see a joke, Francie. Mothah went out and found her with 
 Nance, and Francie was positively crying." 
 
 " Francie always was a dear little girl," said Nat, huskily. 
 
 "Yes. Aw by the way, Burke, don t you think you d 
 aw bettah say Miss Blake ?" 
 
 "Why, yes, certainly," said Nathan, agreeably; "I had 
 forgot she was getting to be a young lady." 
 
 "And aw perhaps you d bettah stop calling me 
 George, you know ?" 
 
 "Why, are you getting to be a young gentleman ?" asked 
 Burke, with a lively surprise and interest; "dear me, I never 
 noticed it!" a remark which George received without at 
 all suspecting that it was capable of two interpretations, 
 so that Mr. Nat s fine sarcasm benefited only himself. Even 
 when the boy irritated him most, Nathan could always 
 relieve his temper by some such speech, secure in the amused 
 knowledge that George would never understand it. There 
 would have been a kind of brutality in using severe measures 
 with George ; something curiously feminine in his feeble 
 spitefulness restrained one. You could not be angry with 
 a creature so weak; it seemed as if any man should be able 
 to withstand his pygmy assaults. It was only when George 
 made himself a serious inconvenience that he must be treated 
 with active severity; but this occurred with increasing fre 
 quency during the latter half of Burke s tenure of the head- 
 bookkeeper s desk under Mr. Marsh. 
 
 He was considerably surprised to see George returning to 
 the store about five o clock one evening, an hour when young 
 Mr. Ducey was most often to be observed richly gloved and 
 
WHICH RAMBLES CONSIDERABLY 181 
 
 waistcoated, fresh curled, oiled, and perfumed, taking the 
 air by the side of his mother in the family carriage; or per 
 haps himself escorting one of the favored fair in a high, 
 fashionable, two-seated vehicle which had lately been bought 
 for his use. George was a great ladies man; terrific was the 
 slaughter his eyes, figure, dress, and manners had wrought 
 among the sex he said so himself with regret. Not in 
 direct, rough words, of course, but exercising that species 
 of clever and well-bred innuendo of which he was the master. 
 So when this conqueror was beheld abandoning his natural 
 field at the most propitious season for the grimy and gritty 
 neighborhood of the warehouse and its shirt-sleeved society, 
 wonder ran among the ranks of clerks. They were prepar 
 ing to close up; the elder Ducey had already gone home. 
 One lad was sweeping out the front of the place, while an 
 other laid the dust with a sprinkling-can. Nathan was 
 posting his books in the office, his lank legs wreathed about 
 his stool, the familiar aroma of codfish and Sisal hemp 
 ascending to him in cool, earthy gusts from an open hatch 
 way leading to the cellar, when the not less familiar odor of 
 George s millefleurs and Macassar caused him to look up. 
 
 " Hello!" he said in astonishment, pausing with a sus 
 pended pen. "What on earth are you doing here?" 
 
 "That s what every single one of those boys has been 
 saying!" said George, peevishly; "infernal bad mannahs, / 
 call it. W T hy shouldn t I be here, I d like to know?" He 
 came in, drawing the door to after him with unusual care. 
 It squeaked aloud on its hinges, being seldom closed; and, 
 indeed, the wood was so swelled with recent dampness that 
 George could not force the door into its frame, and gave up 
 trying to latch it in a sudden and most unnatural burst of 
 temper. "Oh, damn!" he said, flinging himself down in his 
 uncle s arm-chair; he threw out his legs, kicking the spittoon 
 aside viciously, and began to bite his nails with a very moody 
 and perturbed countenance. Nathan looked at him puzzled; 
 George s disposition was so mild, equable, and self-satisfied 
 that it was hard to guess what could have so disturbed him. 
 "I suppose his last new coat doesn t fit," said Burke to him 
 self, and turned again to his figuring, not being much given to 
 inquiring into other people s affairs, which they were generally 
 only too willing to confide to him unsolicited. 
 
182 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 "I say, Burke George began after a momentary si 
 lence. 
 
 Nat finished the entry and raised his eyes. "Well?" 
 he said and wondered to see George flinch under his 
 gaze. 
 
 "You ah you ve got such a quick way of moving 
 your head and eyes, Nat," said the other, with an uneasy 
 smile; "you kind of take a fellow aback. I guess that s 
 what makes you such a cracking good shot, hey? I was 
 telling a fellow the othah day that you were the best shot 
 I evah saw. There s Burke/, says I; he s got an eye 
 like a rifleman, wonderful, b George, wondahful! Why, 
 he says it was Billy White you know Billy, don t you? 
 Why, says Bilty; Burke? he was your hired man, 
 wasn t he? Said it just that way kind of a sneering 
 way, you know, Nat. I just turned right round on him. 
 Hired man be damn! I says; Nat Burke s a gentleman, 
 and what s more he s my friend. I just want you to remem 
 ber, Bill White, that anybody that says anything against 
 him says it against me I I wouldn t have him talking 
 that way about you, Nathan. I let him know flat I wouldn t 
 stand it," said George, nobly. 
 
 "I don t see that he said anything against me," said Burke, 
 returning to his ledger. 
 
 "It was the way he said it, Nat; it was his mannah 
 low-down sort of a fellow, Bill White fathah was a horse- 
 doctah, b George!" cried George. 
 
 "So may mine have been, for all I know," Nat said, 
 grinning. He closed the book, wiped his pen, and began 
 clearing up his desk. One of the clerks shouted a question 
 at him from the front, and Nathan shouted back directions 
 as he sought his coat and hat hanging on their nail. George 
 watched him nervously. 
 
 "I don t know Avhat fathah and Uncle George would do 
 without you, Nat; positively I don t believe they could get 
 along," he said earnestly; "they just leave everything to 
 you and go off when they choose, don t they? Is ah 
 Uncle George now he isn t around anywhere, is he?" 
 
 "I think he s gone home I saw him start out," Nathan 
 told him. "Did you want to speak to him ?" 
 
 No, oh, no, George didn t want to speak to his uncle. He 
 
WHICH RAMBLES CONSIDERABLY 183 
 
 just dropped in just dropped in, you know, Nat. He d 
 been thinking he ought to get down to the store more regu- 
 lahly, but he d been sick. He was sick, you know, curse it, 
 sick a good deal of the time, and the rest, Mothah would 
 hardly let him out of her sight or the girls got hold of him, 
 you know how girls are. He smirked faintly at the last 
 words, and pulled up his shirt-collar with a side-glance into 
 the little old cracked looking-glass in the corner where the 
 office-force were wont to straighten their plebeian ties and 
 head-gear before going out on the street. It reflected a 
 sickly pale, anxious, and flurried face this time; and Nathan, 
 washing his hands at the battered stand just around the 
 partition (such being our inelegant toilet-arrangements), saw 
 it with a humorous concern. What under heaven could 
 be the matter with George ? He certainly had not come all 
 the way back to the store at this hour of the day to retail 
 complimentary anecdotes about Burke s career and char 
 acter. Whatever his purpose, he seemed to be thoroughly 
 at a loss, groping in a jungle of impulses, amongst which the 
 strongest and best defined was apparently to propitiate 
 Nathan. And the latter, who, during the whole of his life, 
 had never felt himself under the necessity of propitiating 
 anything or anybody save his own vigilant conscience, was 
 at once repelled and interested by the spectacle. Even 
 while he reflected he saw the other s face light up as with a 
 new and brilliant idea. 
 
 "I say, Burke," he began again, this time with abundant 
 confidence, however. "I nearly forgot what I came in for 
 - funny thing, isn t it, how one gets to talking and forgets ? 
 Mothah wants to change a twenty-five-dollar bill, and she 
 told me if I was passing by to stop in and get you to do it. 
 Four or five dollahs in silvah, and the rest in greenbacks 
 will do, she said." 
 
 " All right," said Burke, moving to the cash-drawer, with a 
 passing wonder at the obliquity of George s mental processes. 
 Why not say his mother wanted the money at once and be 
 done with it? Why not ? Nathan paused with his 
 hand in his pocket sorting out the key; he turned; George 
 was at his elbow and their glance crossed. This time the 
 smooth brown eyes did not falter. 
 
 "Mothah said " George went on fluently. 
 
184 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 "Your mother gave you the bill, I suppose?" asked 
 Nathan, holding out his hand. 
 
 "Why, no just like a woman, wasn t it? She forgot 
 to started upstairs to get it out of her desk, and then went 
 off about something else. My grandmothah s there now, 
 you know, and they get to talking and nevah stop all day 
 long. But it s all right, you know, perfectly safe. I should 
 think I d hardly need to tell you that here," said George, 
 with a touch of loftiness. "Just make it five dollahs in silvah 
 and" 
 
 "I can t give you any money that way, George," said Nat. 
 "Not in my position, you know. I m sorry. I guess your 
 mother will have to wait till to-morrow." He could have 
 laughed but for a kind of reluctant contempt he felt at the 
 chagrin in the other s face. 
 
 "She can t wait really she can t, Nat," said George, 
 feverishly; "she she s got to pay a bill a a dress 
 maker s bill, they always have to have change to pay a 
 bill, you know. Mothah can t bear to keep work-people 
 waiting why, you know that. She she really needs the 
 money." 
 
 Nathan leaned against the desk, surveying him silently. 
 It was not worth while to answer; he wondered with an ex 
 traordinary mixture of pity and shame and amusement what 
 George would do or say next, to what lengths he would go. 
 
 "Well, aren t you going to give me the money ?" demanded 
 the boy, for after all he was only a boy, sharply. 
 
 "No." 
 
 "I d like to know why, Nathan Burke. That s my 
 fathah s money you ve got locked up in that drawer. It s 
 it s my money, by God, and you haven t any right to keep 
 it locked up when I want it!" shrieked out George, losing 
 his self-command under this strain. 
 
 "I thought you said your mother wanted it." 
 
 "That s what I m saying that s what I mean. I I 
 was just joking, you know, Nat," said George, with a smile 
 so ghastly it moved the older man almost to compassion; 
 "she she don t quite need twenty-five, she could do with 
 twenty, or or fifteen. Can t you ? Only fifteen, 
 Nat ?" George was in earnest now at any rate. The sweat 
 stood on his forehead; he made small, fluttering gestures. 
 
WHICH RAMBLES CONSIDERABLY 185 
 
 It was incredibly pitiful, incredibly mean. He saw refusal 
 in Burke s face, and flung off from him in a fit of womanish 
 fury. 
 
 "I tell you what it is, Burke, you re going to be sorry for 
 this! I ve only got to lift my finger yes, I ve only got 
 to say one word and out you go, do you know that ? D ye 
 suppose my fathah s going to have any damned impudent 
 upstart like you around ordering me? You re afraid, 
 that s what s the matter with you you ve been helping 
 yourself. S pose I can t see that, hey ? Is there twenty- 
 five dollars in the drawer is there ? How much have you 
 been nibbling off at a time? How long ?" he stopped, 
 gasping, shrinking back against the wall in a terror so des 
 perate it reminded Nathan of some hunted animal. "Don t 
 
 strike me, Nathan, don t ! I I I didn t mean it 
 j 
 
 "I m not going to strike you," said Burke; "but calling me 
 a thief won t help you any, you know, George. What s 
 the matter ? Are you in trouble ? Haven t you any 
 money ? " 
 
 "I don t owe anybody," George cried out eagerly; and at 
 the preposterous naivete of this lie Nathan could not keep 
 back a smile. "What are you grinning at? I tell you I 
 don t " he stammered, his face turned clay-color, he almost 
 cowered in the corner. And upon the instant in walked, 
 stalked, stamped, old George Marsh! 
 
 It answered grotesquely to the awful scene in "Don Gio 
 vanni" when the statue enters. The old man must have 
 heard every word, having been, as he afterwards explained 
 to Burke, occupied in sampling a consignment of spices in 
 the cellar almost beneath their feet. An acute sympathy 
 for George invaded and took possession of Nathan, warring 
 the while with an untimely desire to laugh. For it was not 
 at all funny. The boy was so abject in his fine clothes, 
 so pitiable with his weak frame and face. Mr. Marsh him 
 self was quite unconscious that his entrance supplied the 
 last touch of melodrama; he had merely come up from the 
 cellar when it suited his convenience, and now stood, breath 
 ing a little short, for he was a heavy though still sturdy man 
 and the steep stair had winded him, and eying his grand- 
 
186 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 nephew with his small, steady old eyes, bedded in thick folds 
 and wrinkles. He sat down. 
 
 " George," he said, not unkindly; "no, stand where you 
 are don t shake that way. What are you afraid of ? 
 I m not going to hurt you nobody s going to hurt you. 
 You want money ? How much ?" 
 
 "I I don t want any money, Uncle George, I I 
 wasn t asking for money. Mothah wants " 
 
 Old George waved his hand. " Never mind that," he 
 said briefly. " You want money ? How much?" 
 
 "I I twenty-five dollahs or thirty thirty dol- 
 lahs," said George, recovering somewhat. 
 
 "Give it to him, Burke," said the old man; and Nathan 
 turned again to the cash-drawer, not greatly surprised. On 
 the other hand, George, as was plainly to be seen, was- very 
 agreeably startled and relieved; if he had known it was as 
 easy as this, he would not have wasted all that painful and 
 circuitous diplomacy. By the time Nathan had counted 
 out the sum, George was himself again, and magnanimously 
 accepted it, ready to forget and forgive. 
 
 "Of course it was unfortunate me leaving Mothah s 
 check at home, Uncle George," he explained; "the fact 
 is I m a little ah careless about money mattahs. But 
 you acted quite right, Burke, quite right, to refuse to give 
 me the money. I m sure you re very reliable. Only, you 
 see, I found it a little trying. I knew it would be all right, 
 but you weren t here, you know, Uncle George, and though 
 I kept telling Burke he was perfectly secure, still he wouldn t 
 give it to me. Regulah watch-dog, b George!" 
 
 "I heard you," said Mr. Marsh. He drew a long breath 
 that was almost a sigh, and passed his coarse, veined, hairy old 
 hand over his chin, looking up at his nephew thoughtfully. 
 "Thirty dollars ain t all you owe, hey, George?" 
 
 " Sir ? Why, yes that is, no I don t owe I I - 
 
 "Nobody ever tells all they owe," said old George, calmly. 
 "However " he made a gesture in which Nathan discerned 
 a certain weariness, and sat for a moment rasping his fingers 
 along his chin and staring absently at or through the young 
 men, as it might be, into that past of his which was doubtless 
 stocked with just such sordidly trivial scenes. He roused 
 himself. 
 
WHICH RAMBLES CONSIDERABLY 187 
 
 "Run along, George, keep out of trouble if you can," 
 he said. "Run along, I tell you. Burke always sees the 
 place shut up." 
 
 As this history is that of Nathan Burke and not of Mr. 
 George Ducey it will be necessary, with whatever regret, 
 to omit an account of all the scenes similar to that just 
 recorded in which the latter young gentleman figured. It 
 was the first of a long series; for if there ever was a time when 
 George was not in need of money, Burke never knew of it. He 
 had a handsome allowance which he invariably anticipated 
 to the last penny; it was increased still it dribbled through 
 his fingers; increased again, yet the first of the month always 
 saw him out of pocket and manoeuvring with a curious 
 fertility of cheap excuses to get more. He was not the only 
 young fellow who has suffered from an inability to fit his 
 coat to his cloth. General Burke, who is a pattern old 
 gentleman, can remember a certain early acquaintance of his 
 sinking various sums of money in the game of poker at 
 which this youth greatly fancied himself for a while at 
 one period of his interesting career. If his losses were after 
 all not so very large, they were still more than he had means to 
 pay out of his compact salary of bookkeeper; so he went 
 forth and pawned his overcoat yea, for nine dollars and 
 a half he pawned it, with a greasy old Hebrew who heartily 
 invited his patronage; and he satisfied that debt, and never 
 played another game of poker for twenty years. But what 
 became of George Ducey s money ? Perhaps he himself 
 could scarcely have told. He spent it on nobody but George 
 Ducey, yet he had no vices. No one ever saw or heard of 
 George being drunk or playing poker; and for the coarser 
 indulgences he had neither the health, nor, I honestly believe, 
 the taste. He was not in the least a good fellow, a boon 
 companion, as the phrase goes; indeed, he had few close 
 friends of either sex, although he cut a tremendous dash 
 socially, as I have attempted to describe. He could dance 
 beautifully, his dress was impeccable, his manners over 
 whelmingly studied and exact then what was the matter 
 with George Ducey? It would be unjust at least, so it 
 seemed to Burke to say of a creature so harmless that he 
 was "no earthly good." Yet Nat heard that said of George 
 more than once. His mother believed him perfect, admired 
 
188 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 him to his face, hovered over him with a thousand touching 
 maternal cares. More than likely she bestowed on him all 
 her savings, scraped and stinted and wore old bonnets, 
 and turned old dresses and went through all a woman s 
 petty tragedy of economy and management to provide for 
 his whims, bullied her husband and cajoled her uncle into 
 paying his bills, nor, with all this, ever allowed herself 
 to perceive of what poor stuff her idol was compact. About 
 this resolute and deliberate blindness of women there is 
 something so noble and pathetic we forget its desperate silli 
 ness; we even lean on it and trust to it. For if a man s 
 mother will not stand up for him, where shall we look for 
 faith and loyalty ? 
 
CHAPTER XIV 
 
 IN WHICH WE HEAR A LITTLE MORE ANCIENT HlSTORY 
 
 MR. JAMES SHARPLESS, of whom mention has been made 
 pretty often herein, and whom Burke began to know very 
 well about this time, was born as the two young fellows 
 found upon comparing notes in the same year with Nat 
 himself, that famous year of the big squirrel-hunt, at Harris- 
 burg in Pennsylvania, where his father happened to be 
 stationed in cure of souls. If I am not mistaken, the name 
 is native to that State, having been borne with honor by 
 many stout citizens of the Society of Friends, to whom Jim s 
 father was undoubtedly related. The elder Sharpless was 
 already a middle-aged man, and his wife no longer young, 
 when Master James entered their lives with his disturbing 
 personality. "I was a kind of a postscript, Nat," Jim used 
 to say in his reckless way; "Mary my sister Mary, you 
 know was their only child, and she was ten years old. 
 I dare say they didn t expect to have any more, when I came 
 along and upset everybody s calculations. Pretty good 
 chance to make a spoiled little brat, wasn t it ? Well, I am 
 spoiled, I suppose, according to father s notions," he would 
 conclude with a short sigh. 
 
 Not long after his birth the family removed to Ohio, 
 and Jim could remember no other home than the little, one- 
 storied frame parsonage beside the church on State Street. 
 It was a cold, simple, plain place; the minister s salary was 
 not large, and too much temporal comfort would not have 
 been becoming to his cloth and calling at any rate, in Mr. 
 Sharpless s rigid belief. They were in no danger of it ; among 
 Jim s first recollections were the unceasing activities of his 
 mother, patching, mending, devising carpets out of rags, 
 bracing up lame chairs, tinkering at hinges and window- 
 cords, surreptitiously laundering underwear, stealthily car 
 rying out ashes, and performing other duties not suited to the 
 state and dignity of a clergyman s wife. From the time he 
 
 189 
 
190 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 was old enough to sit at table he used to receive and obey 
 with a humorous understanding secret instructions to refuse 
 butter and not ask for a second helping of anything, whether 
 joint or pudding. Mrs. Sharpless accomplished prodigies in 
 the way of making her own and Mary s clothes, and cutting 
 down her husband s for the little fellow; once Jim furiously 
 attacked an older and bigger boy who had dared to offer 
 some disparaging comment on the paternal trousers as they 
 appeared nicely adjusted to the filial legs. He came home 
 from school blubbering with rage, with a black eye and a 
 bleeding nose and incontinently received extra chastise 
 ment from his father s cane, and was locked in the woodshed, 
 supperless, to reflect on the Sin of Temper. I fear this 
 dungeon became sadly familiar to young James as the years 
 advanced; he was forever falling foul of the authorities, 
 domestic or foreign, on one point or another, and used to 
 take his beating and imprisonment in a stoic silence which 
 of itself afforded proof to his father of the lad s obdurate 
 and stiff-necked disposition. Original sin undoubtedly 
 encompassed his son, the parson thought with sorrow, and 
 girded himself up and warred against it unswervingly. Once, 
 in passing, Jim pointed out to Burke the shed of penance, 
 and a little window which, he said, was over his father s desk 
 in the minister s study. "That was where I used to get my 
 correction," he said; "it was pretty frequent. Mother 
 would be crying in the next room heigh-ho!" 
 
 It is doubtful whether the head of the household observed 
 at all those small devices by which his wife sought to make 
 both ends meet and keep a decent front, in the stern spiritual 
 exaltation with which he pursued his religious vocation. He 
 was shut up in that shabby study, deeply busied with his 
 books, his theological treatises, and the terrifying eloquence 
 of his sermons from morning to night. The little boy held 
 his breath and went on tiptoe past the door. He described 
 to Nathan how he figured God in a solemn isolation with 
 books and a table and a formidable black cane like his father; 
 and wondered how the company of the blest with their harps 
 and noise could be allowed in that austere neighborhood, or 
 what sort of accommodations would be provided in heaven 
 for people like his mother, who was always so brave, cheerful, 
 gay, ready-witted, and tender. Jim spoke of her with an 
 
A LITTLE MORE ANCIENT HISTORY 191 
 
 admiring affection that touched the other young man to the 
 heart; and indeed when Burke came to know Mrs. Sharpless, 
 he thought his friend s enthusiasm well-grounded, and saw 
 in the son not a few of the mother s kindly and winning and 
 eminently humane traits. 
 
 It will have been seen that, notwithstanding the accepted 
 theories about these late arrivals, Jim grew up under as severe 
 a discipline as could have been wished. The Reverend Mr. 
 Sharpless was an earnest, heart-searching man, and the 
 gospel which he preached, and for which he would have gone 
 to the stake with unflinching fortitude, was not one of tender 
 ness or toleration. He was afraid to spare the rod, although 
 he could not have applied it with any relish. A just man, 
 he labored hard under the burden of his parental responsi 
 bilities, racked his soul with prayers for guidance and still 
 felt his child elude him. A less conscientious father might 
 have succeeded better. One could have believed, according 
 to the reverend gentleman s own grim creed, that the two 
 were foreordained to disagree. Jim must have been a quick, 
 bright, puzzling, and puzzled youngster; he asked questions 
 and drew inferences with that staggering infantile logic 
 before which we have all stood confounded and subtly 
 amused. But to the father whose literal imagination pre 
 sented God and the devil in a concrete personal presence and 
 power, it doubtless often seemed as if the last-named 
 prompted Jim to his discomfiture. The child s very precoc 
 ity was a menace to his salvation, in his elder s alarmed view. 
 When he was no more than six or seven, Jim, having got hold 
 of, or been given a copy of " Robinson Crusoe," came in his 
 reading to that part of the narrative where Crusoe s efforts 
 to convert his savage to Christianity are set forth with all 
 Defoe s veracity of imagination and seizing simplicity. "If 
 God so much stronger than devil, why God no kill devil?" 
 asks Friday, innocently and honest Robinson is hard put 
 to it for an answer. Who would have supposed that " Robin 
 son Crusoe" would be a book to corrupt the young? But 
 Mr. Sharpless, finding Jim brooding over this passage, took 
 and locked it away from him in disapproving and foreboding 
 horror an act than which nothing could have been better 
 calculated to fix and emphasize the ideas Man Friday had 
 suggested to the boy s mind. A hundred times the poor 
 
192 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 father thus defeated his own ends; a miserably perverse 
 fate governed all their relations, and when he heard that 
 sorry tale of years of misunderstanding and tyranny and 
 rebellion, Nat Burke s heart ached for them both. Without 
 doubt there was a strong similarity between the two char 
 acters ; and it is sad to think of these two brave, turbulent, 
 honest spirits, each incapable of compromise, doomed to be 
 eternally at odds. The present generation would find Jim s 
 heretical views which the boy very early arrived at and 
 boldly pronounced not at all shocking, scarcely even 
 noticeable, so far have we advanced (or strayed from, which 
 you choose !) that narrow road in which the Reverend Sharp- 
 less s feet were set. So my son is honorable, is kind, is tem 
 perate, just, and manly, I ask few questions about his creed; 
 and if he finds solace and inspiration in some certain form of 
 worship or in none at all, I do not try to bend him. But in 
 Jim Sharpless s young days, the Lord was a jealous God; 
 the fires and tortures of the Place of Punishment were very 
 real, much more real, somehow, than the jewellery-box decora 
 tions of the Place of Reward and that both localities ac 
 tually existed, I am sure Mr. Sharpless and every other good 
 church-member never doubted. "The trouble with all the 
 creeds is that not one of the people who invented em had a 
 sense of humor," Jim used to say a remark which then 
 and perhaps now would cause the hair of the orthodox 
 of whatever denomination to stand on end. The world 
 was made in seven days the Serpent invaded Eden 
 the sun went back on the dial of Ahaz the walls of Jericho 
 tumbled down incontinently at the trumpets sounding. 
 Young Jim Sharpless irreverently, blasphemously denounc 
 ing these statements as untrue, or as not adding in the least 
 to the majesty of the Creator even if they were true, scan 
 dalized the community. "Juggling with wine and water to 
 accommodate a lot of carousing Jews at a wedding is a mighty 
 cheap business for God to be about, it seems to me," declared 
 the unfortunate boy could Satan himself have said worse ? 
 We may believe Jim suffered for his levity if it was levity. 
 In any other cause he would have been esteemed an honorable 
 martyr ; the best of faiths could not have asked a more devoted, 
 self-sacrificing, courageous, and inflexible adherent than was 
 Jim to his sacrilegious opinions. It was strange to Burke 
 
A LITTLE MORE ANCIENT HISTORY 193 
 
 who, truth to tell, was always content enough to take religion 
 as he found it and never had the time or disposition to specu 
 late it was strange to him, I say, to witness his friend s fierce 
 and painful strivings, his relentless search for some spiritual 
 rock of rest and truth. Ever since he was old enough to 
 think independently at all, Jim said, the struggle had gone 
 on. What distress it had caused his father and himself, 
 who knows? "But I can t help it, Nat, I can t help it," 
 the young man would burst out. "I can t subscribe to 
 his childish beliefs. I can t accept his mean, bargaining 
 deity. When I was a child yes, when I was twelve years 
 old, I rebelled against it. I wouldn t say my prayers because 
 I d caught God my father s God cheating. They told 
 me He d give me anything in reason I wanted if it was good 
 for me to have it. So I prayed, reasonably enough, it seemed 
 to me: Oh, God, please don t let me have any more sore 
 throats! (I used to have em cruelly, you know do still, 
 for that matter.) Did God hear me ? He may have, but 
 I had the sore throats just the same, and that was enough 
 forme. I wanted Him to act on the square, /do; you do. 
 Why not God? If He were to come on earth and apply His 
 principles to running Mr. Marsh s store, He wouldn t stay 
 in business a minute. It was too one-sided, I thought, when 
 I was a poor bewildered little boy, trying to make head or 
 tail of it all. I wanted somebody to explain the manifest 
 injustice I saw all around me and make it agree with what 
 I heard about the infinite justice of the Almighty. What 
 did I get ? Why, another manifest injustice, a whipping and 
 bread-and-water, in the woodshed. I swear I wasn t a bad 
 boy, Nathan, in spite of what you must have heard I 
 only wanted to know. I don t think I m a bad man; but 
 God can t hire me to be good. I ve about stopped wanting to 
 know. I give it up; I can t see any purpose, beneficent or 
 otherwise, in the universe I have to let it go at that. I 
 don t know why we re all here, nor where we came from, 
 nor whither we re going, and I solemnly believe no man on 
 earth has ever found out. I m doing my best to please my 
 own conscience and live up to my own standards, and I don t 
 care a jot about God s. It stands to reason He wouldn t 
 be any kinder nor fairer nor saner, if He existed at all, in 
 the hereafter than He is here; and the very best of church- 
 
194 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 men has occasion daily to wonder at His doings with us. 
 You can t relie on Him a minute. An honest, kind-hearted 
 man would do better. Do I shock you ? Of course I shocked 
 my father. It s what I said to him that last flare-up we had 
 when he ordered me out of the house. Oh, we d had hun 
 dreds before that; it was wrangle, wrangle all day long ever 
 since I was fifteen too old for any more canings. I don t 
 see how my mother stood it; she s just as near an angel as 
 they re ever made, I guess. She s come to me with tears in 
 her eyes and begged me wouldn t I try a little just try 
 poor mother ! She only wants me to be on good terms 
 with father, you know, in the bottom of her heart she doesn t 
 care what I believe, and if I fell as low as Lucifer, she d love 
 me just the same. But how could I go into a church and 
 pray ? I d lose my own self-respect I d as lief start out 
 to cheat a man in a horse-trade. I said to father: Why, 
 don t you suppose that any sort of God would rather have 
 my honest doubt than my unthinking or calculating or hypo 
 critical submission ? I can t fool myself, and you want me 
 to try and fool God ! The thing you ask me to worship is 
 only superior to myself by its monstrous power; and I think 
 it uses its power very ill. I refuse to believe that any crea 
 ture so dull and despotic has the disposal of me. I d rather 
 blunder along my own way I d rather a hundred times 
 be lost and damned forever than save myself by a lie - 
 and then father turned me out of doors. And the worst of 
 it is, Nathan, the worst of it is - " Jim would say, turning 
 his haggard young face upon his companion in a sad per 
 plexity, "that I know the poor old man sorrows in his heart 
 over me. He wrestles with the Lord in prayer yes, sir, 
 he gets down on his poor stiff old knees every night, and 
 beseeches the gory dummy he believes in to be merciful to 
 his erring son. I I don t have a very good time in my sin, 
 Nat; at least people might do me the justice to acknowledge 
 that I m not going to perdition for sheer enjoyment of wick 
 edness. You and Jack Vardaman are the only friends I ve 
 got and the barkeeper at the Erin-go-Bragh. I suppose 
 there s not a crime in the calendar of which I haven t been 
 accused or considered capable. There s not a woman in 
 town who ll speak to me, except Mrs. William Ducey, she s 
 not afraid. She s a good, sweet woman if she has got that 
 
A LITTLE MORE ANCIENT HISTORY 195 
 
 nincompoop of a boy. That dear little thing, that little 
 Blake girl, she s too young, I dare say, to understand what 
 an unspeakable, free-thinking blackguard I am she let 
 me walk alongside of her on the street the other day. I felt 
 as if I ought in conscience to warn her. I have to avoid my 
 own mother and sister for fear of getting em in trouble with 
 father. No, my worst enemy wouldn t call it a path of roses 
 but I ve got to walk it, I ve got to walk it to the end." 
 Jim used to deliver this and like speeches with vast energy, 
 striding about their little room, the color splotching his gaunt 
 cheeks, his deep-set eyes burning with a conviction as firmly 
 rooted and fanatical in its way as his father s, whom he 
 oddly resembled at these moments. Years afterward 
 Burke read those strong and sincere words in which another 
 and surely a kindred spirit declared: " . . . had I lived a 
 couple of centuries earlier I could have fancied a devil scoff 
 ing at me . . . and asking me what profit it was to have 
 stripped myself of the hopes and consolations of the mass of 
 mankind ? To which my only reply was and is oh, devil, 
 truth is better than much profit." And reading, perhaps 
 understood Sharpless s attitude a little more clearly. Cer 
 tainly Nat liked and respected him from the first, spite of 
 the hard names and harder treatment so liberally bestowed 
 on him. They lodged together now, but at the time of their 
 first formal meeting in Vardaman s office, Jim was sleeping 
 in an attic-room somewhere down on Front Street, and eat 
 ing everywhere and anywhere. From the day of his eviction 
 he never entered his father s house, nor asked the Reverend 
 Mr. Sharpless for a penny. How he lived nobody knew, 
 but that it was not in ease or luxury was abundantly evident 
 from poor Jim s shabby and slip-shod appearance. "Low 
 kind of a hang-dog look the fellah has," George Ducey ob 
 served; "evah see such a waistcoat? And his hat 
 b George, no gentleman would be seen in such a hat ! " Jim, 
 however, had work, writing of some kind, hard work 
 and underpaid, from the newspapers. He used to be up at 
 all hours of the night, he prowled about all quarters of the 
 town, he knew countless queer outlandish characters. I 
 think he had more friends than he suspected; he was in 
 domitably gay in his ragged coat, hopeful, humorous, and 
 gallant-tempered. His manners were not at all like George 
 
196 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 Ducey s, yet Burke thought they were the best manners in 
 the world, and to see Jim help an old market-woman with her 
 basket across the muddy street was a lesson in unofficious 
 courtesy. That lean purse of his was at anybody s service, 
 for he certainly took 110 thought for the morrow; but it seemed 
 to Nathan as if his friend invested this hand-to-mouth exist 
 ence with a kind of lovable dignity, spreading his sail to the 
 winds of Bohemia with an admirable courage and careless 
 ness. John Vardaman, who was fond of him, once told 
 Burke that he had offered his own home to Jim, even pressed 
 it on him, but the young man refused. " There s your sister 
 and it might ruin your practice, Jack," he said. And 
 the doctor was forced to admit that there was that dan 
 ger. "People were so prejudiced in those days, you re 
 member, Burke," said he; " maybe Jim was right, but 
 anyhow, I couldn t persuade him into it." So Jim held on 
 his way, busy with his everlasting note-book in the legisla 
 tive chambers, the county-offices, and police tribunals of 
 the Court-house, haunting the taverns, coffee-houses, 
 market-stands, pawnshops, hail-fellow-well-met with stage- 
 drivers, actors, pedlers, drovers, twopenny politicians, the 
 rout of vagabonds with which our little capital city was 
 always so well supplied. It was no wonder that with his 
 woful linen, his all but empty pockets, his garret, and his 
 motley associates Jim should have seemed to his father s 
 world in full career upon the downward path. How could 
 a man of such doubtful habits (to say nothing of his known 
 opinions) have any but doubtful morals ? People even dis 
 cerned something incongruous in the companionship of 
 Jim Sharpless and that model character, Mr. Nathan 
 Burke. 
 
 " Where on earth did you two first meet?" Vardaman 
 had asked [us. And Sharpless, with a sonorous gravity, 
 informed him, quoting from a flaming letter which had ap 
 peared in a recent issue of the Journal that he was " prob 
 ably aware that notwithstanding all the legislation on the 
 subject the haunts of vice in our city are in as active opera 
 tion as ever . . . and it has become fashionable with us to 
 frequent those SINKS OF INFAMY, the BILLIARD-ROOM 
 and the CARD-ROOM, which are bringing Jim went 
 on in a pulpit-like intonation of horror " which are bring- 
 
A LITTLE MORE ANCIENT HISTORY 197 
 
 ing, sir, more ruin on the rising generation than all the 
 vices of the brothel ever could 
 
 " That s enough," said the doctor, beginning to laugh; 
 "I read that letter. But at what particular sink of infamy 
 since I infer that s where the acquaintance began did 
 you ?" 
 
 "The Erin-go-Bragh," Burke told him. And added, 
 1 The notorious villain, its proprietor, is a very temperate, 
 decent sort of man, by the way." 
 
 "And the barkeeper is my very good friend," said Sharp- 
 less; "I lodged in the same house and he has two little boys 
 that I used to play with and tell stories to. And at Christ 
 mas he invited me downstairs to celebrate with a dish of 
 tripe and onions which Mrs. Barkeeper cooked and cooked 
 handsomely, too, without sparing the lard; it was the glory 
 that was grease. Sir, it cheered the outcast s heart not 
 to mention his digestive organs, which would be indelicate." 
 
 Jim s garret days were over now forever over, he used 
 to say with a mock-sentimental sigh, and spout, " Je viens 
 revoir Vasile de majeunesse," with a pretence of doddering old 
 age which was infinitely diverting since Burke had pre 
 vailed on him to share a back room at Mrs. Slaney s with him, 
 which came to pass early in their acquaintance. Mrs. Sla- 
 ney, whom his dire reputation had not yet reached, thought 
 Mr. Sharpless just a lovely young man but, there, any 
 friend of yours, Mr. Burke ! In a little while Jim was as 
 familiar with Slaney s disastrous career, the daguerreotype, 
 and the votive altar of immortelles as Burke himself, and 
 the widow found him quite as sympathetic. The young 
 fellows considered themselves very lucky in their snuggery 
 with the smell of dinner reeking up the back stairs. Their 
 combined resources furnished them with a somewhat larger 
 in fact an entirely adequate ! supply of coal and kind 
 lings which they kept handily in a barrel (sawed down to a 
 convenient height, and nicely braced or bound around the 
 edge); they had two little Napoleonic iron camp-beds and 
 a table and two chairs picked up for a song from some second 
 hand dealer. There was a chest of drawers, and a small 
 shaving-glass of a rather fearsome greenish hue atop of it. 
 Nat s books were marshalled on a shelf, beneath which one 
 might discover, chastely concealed behind a red calico cur- 
 
198 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 tain, the wearing apparel of these hermits pendent from a 
 few a very few pegs, and their boots ranked upon the 
 floor. The apartment was a " bower of innocence and 
 beauty," Jim asserted to Vardaman, when the latter came to 
 visit them. Neither of them could afford cigars, so an 
 assortment of pipes graced the high, wooden mantle-shelf. 
 Over it they hung up Nathan s faithful old musket with the 
 arms of Great Britain and Georgius Rex engraved on its 
 stock. "I used to think that was the name of the fellow 
 that had owned it," said Burke, with a laugh, telling his 
 friend about Darnell and his old camp-fire days. In the 
 middle of the chimney-breast Sharpless set up his most 
 valued to be frank, it was almost his only possession, 
 a drawing of his mother and Mary, taken together when the 
 little girl was perhaps eight or nine. Mrs. Sharpless was 
 posed in a short-waisted dress, with her pretty black hair 
 gathered in a ribbon on top of her head; Mary at her knee 
 had a hoop and stick, and embroidered pantalettes and 
 spiral curls; the faces and hands were tinted, and all the 
 rest done in lead-pencil, every hair in every curl touched in 
 painstakingly. 
 
 "It s not mine really I thieved it out of my room when 
 I came away from the house," said Jim, remarking the inter 
 est with which his friend surveyed this work of art. "You 
 don t mind its being there, do you?" On the contrary, 
 Nat liked it exceedingly; perhaps he even took advantage 
 of it to invite Jim to further confidences concerning his mother 
 and sister. Was it a good likeness of them both ? Did 
 ahem did Jim s sister, for instance, look at all like that, 
 now? 
 
 "Why, you ve seen Mary, haven t you?" Sharpless asked 
 in surprise; "she plays the accompaniments at all the con 
 certs, and lots of other places, too. You must have seen her 
 - kind of a slim girl with dead loads of black hair done up 
 in that sort of basket-work way the girls do their hair, with 
 flowers in it, you know. The picture looks like her still. 
 She isn t exactly pretty she can t hold a candle to Mother, 
 but she well, everybody always turns around to look at 
 Mary, I don t know why," said Jim, knitting his brows over 
 this phenomenon. 
 
 Nathan, reddening a little consciously, believed that he 
 
A LITTLE MORE ANCIENT HISTORY 199 
 
 could have told why. He felt a sort of shame at this 
 pumping of his friend, yet, in the name of sense, why not ? 
 Why not, I say, ask as many questions civil, proper ques 
 tions as he chose about Miss Mary Sharpless ? She was 
 a very interesting-looking girl, and and and Mr. Nat 
 would have gone to jail sooner than admit to any one, even 
 to Jim, that he had ever given her a thought! 
 
 " Mary s old about thirty, I guess," said the brother, 
 ruthlessly; " she doesn t look it, though. Mother doesn t 
 look her age, either. It s queer, because they ve both had 
 rather a hard time, in a kind of woman s way, I mean, you 
 know. Making their own clothes, and father s shirts, and 
 mine, and cobbling things around the house, and taking 
 hold in the kitchen when we haven t any servant, and giving 
 music-lessons, and and all things like that. It s hard on 
 a woman, must be, I think, to have to be planning and 
 worrying how to make the money last out, the whole time. 
 Mother s wonderful that way aren t you, Ma?" he said, 
 addressing the smiling young woman in the picture affec 
 tionately; " never you mind some day I m going to get 
 you everything you want, and you shan t have to lift a 
 finger. Mary s not so good at it, but then she well, 
 Mary s kind of off to herself, somehow sui generis, as Jack 
 would say." 
 
 "How off to herself?" Nat demanded. 
 
 "Well, just separate, you know, that s all. I mean it s 
 not very easy to get at Mary, somehow. She s always on 
 the side of the person she s with at the time; she wouldn t 
 think it good manners to disagree. But anyhow, Mary s 
 very sweet-tempered; she oh, well, she knows which side 
 her bread s buttered on, and that s the truth. I ve heard 
 her telling people that their little girl was a darling little 
 angel and had a perfectly wonderful talent for music, when 
 she knew and I knew and anybody that had any sense would 
 know that the youngster couldn t tell Yankee Doodle from 
 * Old Hundred ! Mary calls it tact ; / call it never mind 
 what!" He wagged his hand. "You pays your money 
 and you takes your choice," he said with a laugh. 
 
 "Oh, well, a woman, you know " 
 
 Jim, who was cleaning a pipe, looked up from the wire 
 he was drawing through its stem, under his brows, at his 
 
200 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 friend and grinned again. "Oh, well, a woman!" he mim 
 icked. "That s just your typical attitude, Nat. You re 
 just the kind any woman could wrap around her little fin 
 ger if she was smart enough. She s a woman so she 
 doesn t have to tell the truth, or act like a reasoning human 
 being, or be anything but a divine creature on a pedestal. 
 You want to lie down and let em walk over you. Why, 
 by your own say-so, you ve stood more bullying and be 
 devilling from Mrs. Ducey than you d ever have dreamed 
 of taking from a man. You re afraid of raising your voice 
 for fear of offending their dear little ears, or of touching em 
 for fear of hurting their dear little bodies, or of looking at 
 em for fear of frightening their dear little 
 
 "You shut up!" shouted Nathan, indignant yet laughing ; 
 "I m not quite such a sawney as all that !" 
 
 "Sawney? Why, not at all anything but !" James 
 blew out his pipe-stem and tilted back in his chair, roaring 
 out the fag-end of a ditty with which he used to enliven the 
 Slaney precincts: 
 
 " For his spirit it was tre-men-ju-ous, and fierce to be-HOLD ! 
 In a young man bred a carpenter only nineteen years old ! 
 
 What I admire about that song is its power of vivid char 
 acterization," he said seriously; "and it is ^curiously appli 
 cable to either one of us 
 
 For his spirit it was tre-men-ju-ous " 
 
 "If you don t look out, you ll have the legs off that chair," 
 Nathan warned him anxiously. 
 
 "That s the kind of thing Mother s all the time trying 
 to fix," said Jim, arresting himself in the full tide of melody 
 and getting up to examine the chair. "I used to stop her 
 hammering her poor little thumbs black and blue when I 
 was at home. There s a woman you can put on a pedestal 
 as high as you want, Nat," added the young man, soberly; 
 "and my sister s a mighty nice sort of girl, too, if she is my 
 sister," he went on quickly; "and if she does tell her funny 
 little woman-fibs. It s just as you say, after all, that sort 
 of thing doesn t count with women; they re brought up to 
 it, more or less. I I don t want you to think I d run down 
 
A LITTLE MORE ANCIENT HISTORY 201 
 
 my own sister, Nat. She s had a lot to stand on my account. 
 It s a drawback to any girl to have a man for a brother that 
 everybody calls a worthless coot. And Mary s so attractive 
 too. She s been engaged lots of times." 
 
 "Has she ? " said Nathan, consumed by a dismal curiosity. 
 "Is is she engaged now?" 
 
 " Why, not that I know of but then I mightn t hear, 
 anyhow. I can t go to see her, you know. But there used 
 to be somebody spooning around and holding hands with 
 Mary all the time. I was forever getting in the way and 
 being shunted off. Yes, I m afraid Mary s something of 
 a flirt; she s mowed em down in her time, I guess. And it s 
 a little strange when you think, as I say, that she s not quite 
 pretty, only out-of-the-way looking," concluded Jim, medi 
 tatively. 
 
 Welladay, it was not so very strange to Nat s way of 
 thinking! And I suppose if he had had it on the most cred 
 itable authority that Miss Sharpless was old enough to be his 
 mother, that she wore false teeth, false hair, and a wooden 
 leg, and had married and divorced half a dozen husbands, he 
 would still have continued in his timid and distant worship. 
 The young man would not acknowledge it to himself, for 
 he would have been obliged to own his fancy both pitiful and 
 absurd. He refrained from analyzing the feeling that led him 
 out of his road to walk past the Sharpless house, to go and 
 sit in a stiff pew at the back of the church and listen by the hour 
 to a dreary exposition of the here and the hereafter, to direct 
 Jim s talk upon his sister by endless ridiculous stratagems. 
 And what was he to Hecuba ? She hardly knew that he 
 existed; she had merely spoken to him once in the angelic 
 kindness of her heart, while he of all things in the world ! 
 was cutting Mrs. William Ducey s grass. He was not 
 much advanced now upon that ignominious labor a raw 
 youth keeping books for Mr. Marsh all day, and befogging 
 himself over "Chitty on Contracts" all night! Lord, what 
 fools these mortals be! For mercy s sake, Nathan, knock 
 out your pipe and go to bed ! 
 
CHAPTER XV 
 WHICH is SHORT AND RATHER SERIOUS 
 
 THE two friends used to see a good deal of Dr. John 
 Vardaman these days, either in his State Street eyrie, when 
 they dropped in of an evening, or in their own quarters at 
 Mrs. Slaney s, when the doctor came to see them in an off 
 hour. He made his home with an elderly, unmarried sister, 
 so Burke understood, in a house, some way out on Town 
 Street; their father had been an English gentleman of birth 
 and means, at one time an officer of Pakenham s, who had 
 settled in this country after the late war, and died about 
 1830, I believe. All this Sharpless told Nathan, for Varda 
 man himself never mentioned his family except in the most 
 matter-of-fact fashion or hinted at his fine old descent, of 
 which, as the world goes, it would have been natural enough 
 for him to be quite proud. He was very tall, with that 
 kind of commanding homeliness which is sometimes better 
 than good looks, prematurely graying hair, and Burke 
 used to think the most pleasant speaking-voice and enun 
 ciation ever heard, though he could not sing a note. To 
 hear Jack read was a real treat; he did it without any sort 
 of dramatic affectations, yet with a perfect mastery of ex 
 pression and an absolute understanding of the author. 
 For the rest, he was an ironical, rather quiet fellow, given 
 to moods of prodigious cynicism and melancholy, as young 
 men sometimes are, when he would offer many stinging 
 criticisms of society, politics, the other sex, and the world at 
 large, being all the while the most tolerant and tender 
 hearted of men. He was some years older than either of the 
 others, and had had a much wider experience of life, having 
 studied his profession in eastern cities, and walked the 
 hospitals of Edinburgh and Leipzig. People used to wonder 
 that John Vardaman, whose father had left him plenty of 
 money to live comfortably without doing a stroke of work, 
 should yet have voluntarily and in fact most eagerly elected 
 
 202 
 
WHICH IS SHORT AND RATHER SERIOUS 203 
 
 to follow one of the hardest of professions. It was a point 
 of view with which Burke, for one, was never in sympathy. 
 Surely to do some one thing well is the highest pleasure a 
 man can have, and the work we love is the only play. Nat, 
 to whom the sight of suffering, whether of man or beast, was 
 intolerable, who would sooner have dug ditches or carried 
 a hod than been a doctor, always felt an unmeasured respect 
 for this greatest and most beautiful of vocations. Mr. 
 Burke never had the ill-luck to meet a physician whom he 
 could not like, beginning with John, who was a born doctor, 
 I think. He was very successful and might have made a 
 huge income for those days, if he had not we suspected 
 done so much in charity. Somebody told him one day 
 in Burke s presence that all he needed to make him perfect 
 was a wife " Every young physician ought to marry as a 
 stroke of business. A wife and one or two babies, Varda- 
 man why, it s money in a doctor s pocket "said this 
 well-meaning person. It was a piece of jocularity which 
 Vardaman, contrary to his custom, received with a very 
 grum countenance and the brief answer which turneth 
 away fun, so that Burke was struck and interested and in 
 quired privately of Sharpless afterwards what was amiss ? 
 
 "Well, I guess that sort of talk cuts a little too near the 
 bone with Jack," said the latter, in a vague metaphor; and al 
 though Jim, in his exile, still preserved a sort of underground 
 communication with Society, and may very well have heard 
 all about the doctor s infelicities, he would say no more, not 
 being inclined to gossip, nor did Burke press him, for 
 that matter. 
 
 It was from Dr. Vardaman that they heard some time 
 in the fall of Mrs. Ducey s illness; there was an influenza 
 going about, of w r hich both Burke and Sharpless were obliged 
 to take their share, the latter s cough attacking him so fiercely 
 and hanging on so long (for Jim was thin, underfed, and not 
 of a strong build) as to give his friend some anxiety. The 
 doctor came and dosed them with the stalwart remedies of 
 the day; he described with a good deal of humor the disas 
 trous experiments of some of his patients with New London 
 Liver Pills, Salter s Ginseng Panacea Lord knows what 
 quack nostrums. People had a kind of mania for trying 
 these swindling mixtures; the newspapers always exhibited 
 
204 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 three or four solid pages of their advertisements. Mrs. 
 Ducey was one of the victims. "She was a pretty sick 
 woman by the time I got there," said the doctor, seriously. 
 " Little Francie Blake was in attendance, and a remarkable- 
 looking girl remarkably handsome, I mean, in a calico gown 
 and a cap over her black hair a trying sort of costume, 
 but she looked well in it. She must be a relative who 
 do you suppose it is, Jim ? I thought I knew all of them 
 but those southern kinships! There s somebody new turn 
 ing up all the time; Aunt Coralie s third son s step-daughter, 
 who hasn t got anywhere to live, poor child, now that Sec 
 ond-Cousin Oliver Randolph is dead, and so has to come up 
 North and make her home with Fortieth-Cousin Anne 
 Ducey! That s the way it goes God bless em all ! " said 
 John, with some feeling. "This young woman had rather 
 a southern look or call it Oriental gypsy anything 
 you choose that s alien and picturesque. She 
 
 "I know her. Her name s Darnell don t you remem 
 ber?" interrupted Nat, coloring a little with the guilty 
 thought that he ought to know more about Nance. He 
 told the doctor her story. "Did did she seem contented 
 and and happy, Jack?" he asked in a strange appre 
 hension. He promised himself, for the twentieth time, to 
 go and see her. 
 
 "Contented and happy ?" said Vardaman, with a puzzled 
 look; "why, I never noticed. How could I tell, anyhow? 
 I should think she would be in such a good home. She 
 makes a fine nurse, very deft, lightfooted, and intelligent. 
 And patient, I could see that. Between ourselves it s not 
 an easy business, nursing; people are so apt to be fretful and 
 imperious. But this girl what did you say her name was 
 Nance? struck me as most devoted. She waited on 
 me and watched Mrs. Ducey like a cat. She s rather curious, 
 rather interesting, Nathan I m glad you told me about 
 her. Beautiful woman, isn t she? And she looked very 
 lovely and tender with Mrs. Ducey - 
 
 "I m sure little Miss Blake would be that too, she she s 
 that kind of girl, I know," said Sharpless, abruptly and some 
 what heatedly, so that Burke looked at him, taken by sur 
 prise. 
 
 "Eh? Francie? Oh, yes, Francie s a nice child. But I 
 
WHICH IS SHORT AND RATHER SERIOUS 205 
 
 was going to tell you the first thing I saw was your old ac 
 quaintance, Nat, Vaughn s Vegetable Lithontriptic Mix 
 ture, a giant bottle of that elixir of life on the dressing-table ! 
 It s enough to try the patience of Job," declared the doctor, 
 vigorously; " people intelligent, educated people that 
 ought to know better catch a cold cough a little 
 fever chills sore throat no appetite, and all the rest 
 of it, and instead of going to bed sensibly and sending for the 
 doctor, they fribble around with these vile stuffs that would 
 ruin the constitution of a hippopotamus. They spend ten 
 times the money and "he interrupted himself with a 
 grin "run actually ten times the risk they would even if 
 they had the most inexperienced and least capable of doc 
 tors - 
 
 "To say nothing of that sound medical authority, John 
 Vardaman, M.D.," said Jim. "Pooh you re jealous!" 
 
 " Mr. Sharpless," said Vardaman, ponderously, " you will 
 retract that statement, or I ll poultice you within an inch of 
 your life. I ll mustard-plaster you, sir, into a belief in that 
 warm place which you insist don t exist " 
 
 "It would be taking a great deal of mustard to a very little 
 meat, I think," said Jim, glancing down over his lean anat 
 omy; "but who said I was going to employ you? No, sir, 
 I ll take he snatched up the paper from the table and 
 read, "I ll take the Ginseng Panacea, which cured Mr. 
 Jukes of Licking Summit and five members of his family of 
 a cough, two of them of long standing. Mr. Jukes also had 
 an aggravated case of dropsy. Eight bottles made him a well 
 man ! He is now a robust farmer ! It doesn t say what 
 he was before the eight bottles." 
 
 "A chicken-thief, probably," said the doctor. tlt Bless 
 thee, Bottom, thou art translated! Your miserable jour 
 nals are responsible for spreading these lies, Jim. I wonder 
 you have the face to write for them." 
 
 "By heavens, I wouldn t have any face at all if I didn t 
 write for them," said Jim, and laughed and set himself 
 coughing desperately; "I ve got to keep body and soul to 
 gether somehow," he gasped out when the fit was over. 
 "Never mind, Jack, I ll show you what I can do in the cause 
 of righteousness." And he forthwith sat down and wrote 
 the editor of the Journal in the character of a subscriber, 
 
206 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 extolling the virtues of Ramrod s Elixir of Gridiron, which 
 had cured its tens of thousands of every known disease, being 
 a medicine borrowed by the pioneers from the Indian squaws 
 who made a decoction by boiling their husband s rifle-bar 
 rels, etc. It appeared within a day or two and made every 
 body laugh; but Vardaman, meeting Nathan on the street, 
 took him aside with a grave face and urged him to have an 
 eye on Jim. "I suppose you re the only person on earth 
 who can do anything with him or for him, Burke," said the 
 doctor, visibly worried; "his father, you know I I 
 don t know what to do about the business. He s really very 
 sick. That spirit of his keeps him up and going around; 
 he ll go till he drops. He will work when Lord knows you 
 or I or anybody that knows him at all would lend him money 
 or do anything for him. Make him stay in the house 
 keep him out of the weather if you can at night, you 
 know all the time for that matter. He ought to have 
 good strengthening food, and hasn t he got any warmer 
 clothes ? Damn it, why will people mistreat themselves 
 this way!" said John, in a temper, with his kind concern. 
 Burke promised, in alarm; indeed, he had been up half the 
 night before, trying to help his friend, in a clumsy way, 
 through the paroxysms of coughing. Mrs. Slaney herself 
 appeared toward the small hours, feebly tapping at their 
 door, with a candle and her hair in curl-papers, and a purple 
 calico double-gown clutched about her meagre shoulders 
 a most lugubrious and disheartening figure. "Oh, my, ain t 
 it awful the way that poor young man s been suffering?" 
 she sighed, leaning against the door-jamb, as Nathan 
 shivered before her in his night-shirt and pantaloons. And 
 this being apparently all she had to offer in advice or assis 
 tance, Nat finally persuaded her to go away. He began to 
 understand Slaney s behavior. 
 
 That same day, a raw and rainy winter day, he came upon 
 Jim whom he had solemnly engaged not to leave the house, up 
 and out in his thin old surtout, with his sunken cheeks and 
 fever-bright eyes, walking along by Francie Blake of all 
 people in the world, carrying some bundle of hers and talking 
 very gayly. Little Francie s face flushed all over as she saw 
 Nat coming towards them ; she stopped short in an odd and 
 sweet confusion, looking from one young man to the other. 
 
WHICH IS SHORT AND RATHER SERIOUS 207 
 
 "We were talking about you, sir," Sharpless cried out, and 
 Francie blushed rosier than ever. Francie was always a 
 diffident child, and although she was now, as Nathan noted 
 with a start of surprise, transformed all at once from a fat, 
 stubby, little girl into a tall, rather thick-waisted, and gang 
 ling young woman, maid miss, whatever may be the 
 proper term for females at this awkward age, he still could 
 not think of her as anything but a child. He went up and 
 took the bundle away from Jim, sternly adjuring him to go 
 home; Jim surrendered with some kind of laughing protest, 
 and went off coughing. He wavered in his walk, he trem 
 bled with ague from head to foot; Nathan looked after him 
 with wretched misgivings. He walked along gloomily with 
 Francie the familiar way to the Ducey house. Aunt Anne 
 was very sick, the child told him; like Mr. Sharpless, only 
 she didn t think Aunt Anne s cough was quite so bad. She 
 thought Mr. Sharpless was very nice why did people say 
 such things about him ? Nathan growled a savage explana 
 tion, his heart full of pain and perplexity. It was not 
 until they reached the door that he thought of Nance Dar 
 nell, remembering that he had not even asked about her. 
 Francie said that Nance was well; she hadn t had the influenza 
 at all; she was lovely to Aunt Anne, taking entire charge of 
 her. "She s stronger than I am she can lift Aunt Anne 
 right up and turn her over, you know. And she s just as 
 gentle as can be, too," said the girl, looking up at him, with 
 the bundle which he had returned to her arms as they stood 
 within the door, with her great, serious, child s eyes. "Don t 
 you want to see Nance, Nathan?" 
 
 Nat hadn t time, he must get back to the store it 
 seemed as if he never did have time, he thought, troubled. 
 "Do you think she s happy here, Francie? Does she get 
 along with with everybody?" he asked her earnestly. 
 
 "Ye-yes that is she looked at him distressfully, 
 her loyal little heart hesitating; "of course it was a little 
 hard for her at first. There were so many things for her to 
 learn and Aunt Anne Aunt Anne didn t quite understand 
 - but she s been here over six months now, you know, and 
 she s learned ever so much. She says herself she knows a 
 great deal more than when she came. I ve shown her some 
 things she said she liked me to," said Francie, shyly. 
 
208 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 Nathan thanked her from his heart; he felt a momentary 
 impulse which he fortunately controlled, remembering 
 her lengthening skirts to pick Francie up and hug her. 
 There was something inexpressibly wholesome and comfort 
 able about this little girl for so she appeared to him, in 
 spite of her grown-up costume which Mrs. Ducey^had had 
 crinolined in the extreme of the fashion, her bonnet with 
 artificial flowers like a young lady s, her brown alpaca 
 pelisse ornamented with those remarkable flutings and 
 quillings with which women decked themselves in those 
 days. Her thick hair was smoothly braided up like Miss 
 Sharpless s; she wore a white collar and a round brooch of 
 black enamel rimmed with pearls, wherein some of the 
 family hair was enshrined after the pious taste of the times. 
 Nathan observed these signs of maturity almost mechanically 
 yet came away relieved by the knowledge that Francie had 
 reached an age when she must count for something in the 
 household even in a household so despotically ridden as 
 Mrs. Ducey s; and that Nance had her sympathy and un 
 derstanding. More than ever he felt a man s helpless 
 ness before this problem; the thing that looked so simple to 
 the casual view was to him infinitely intricate. Here was 
 an untrained, ignorant, high-spirited girl taken into a good 
 home, fed, clothed, educated, helped, and sheltered in every 
 way what more could anybody ask ? On the face of it, 
 Nance was unusually lucky, the Duceys unusually kind. 
 Yet when he thought of Nance at all which, I am afraid, 
 had not been often some instinct shouted in his inner ear 
 that it was impossible for her to be contented or satisfied 
 farcically and unhappily impossible. George s lively anec 
 dotes, Francie s own reluctant and dubious face, let in a dis 
 quieting illumination. But then, why did she stay? He 
 must see her, talk to her, find out for himself. Darnell s 
 memory reproached him. 
 
 Alas for these good resolutions ! There is a bitter truth 
 in that hard old saying that he that will not when he may, 
 he cannot when he would. Even had Nathan kept his 
 promises to himself, I do not know that he would have ac 
 complished much with his reasoning and his sermonizing and 
 his self-important kindness but that does not excuse him 
 in his own eyes. One might fancy Fate stepping in to say: 
 
WHICH IS SHORT AND RATHER SERIOUS 209 
 
 "Sir, you would direct this young woman s life? Nay, but 
 you have lost your chance. You would shoulder this respon 
 sibility ? Rest easy, it shall be removed. You would keep 
 your promise to her dead father? And why did you not 
 think of that earlier and to better purpose ? The time is 
 over-past " How many men have read themselves this 
 weary lecture ? With the best will in the world, Nathan 
 found he could do nothing for Nance now; the first of the 
 year approached and they were ceaselessly busy at the store ; 
 and a millstone anxiety about Sharpless weighted him down. 
 For Jim was sick enough now; there was a day when Burke 
 went home from his figuring to find his friend huddled in the 
 bed, chattering strange words with what little voice his cough 
 left him. Nathan (whom the poor fellow looked at without 
 knowing) stood over him, listening with a dreadful sinking 
 of the heart, trying to calm him. "Je viens revoir 
 "Dans un grenier qu on est bien " Jim gabbled on with the 
 secret and silly mirth of delirium. The other had only the 
 slightest acquaintance with the language, and: "Good 
 God!" he thought in terror; "will he die this way, without 
 knowing me, without a word I can understand!" But 
 towards morning the fever mercifully abated enough for Jim 
 to come back to reason. "Don t tell Mother, Nat; don t 
 let her get scared about me. I m all right, I ll get up pretty 
 soon," he said. 
 
 There began a season upon which Burke to the end of his 
 days will look back with cringing. The doctor came ; Na 
 than got in a nurse an old woman who smelled of the 
 whiskey-bottle and was none too clean, but he must have 
 somebody. Burke himself sat up at night; when he could, 
 Jack Vardaman relieved him. In spite of Jim s protest 
 which he constantly repeated in his brief moments of con 
 sciousness Nat thought his family ought to know. "I ve 
 told the old man. I dare say he calls it a judgment!" said 
 the doctor, scornfully. Heavens, what hours did they pass 
 in that dingy room: Jim with his wild face covered with a 
 half-grown beard, turning, turning on the lean, hard pillow; 
 bottles, spoons, linen rags, all the dismal tools of sickness 
 strewed about; the light shaded with one of Nathan s law- 
 books Somebody on Equity propped up open around 
 the candlestick; the sallow dawn coming in through the 
 
210 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 dirty window-pane. Nat has spent the night sitting up 
 across a couple of chairs; the shabby silver watch, that he 
 bought of the pawnbroker for a few dollars, is open beside 
 him to time the patient s doses, and he rouses with a start 
 to find it five o clock, and another day Thursday ? Or is 
 it Friday ? The town clocks are striking, the milk-carts can 
 be heard in the streets, there is a cock crowing in the stable- 
 yard at the corner; and Jim, turning again, asks for water 
 in his weak voice, and says he guesses he ll get up, Nat 
 guesses he ll get up guesses and make that hump 
 backed fellow at the foot of the bed stop making faces and go 
 away, confound him! It sometimes seemed to Burke as if 
 he had not slept for years as if he could not if he tried. 
 He used to go down to his desk red-eyed, but broad awake, 
 and work all day with a steadiness that amazed him when he 
 recalled it afterwards. His head was clear even when his 
 haggard look startled the other clerks. They passed the 
 word around that Jim Sharpless was very low. Nathan 
 heard them buzzing the news in corners with a futile anger. 
 It was old Marsh himself who came to him one day and said : 
 "Go home, Burke, go home you ain t fit for this. Ain t 
 he any better?" with so much of rough kindness in his man 
 ner that the tears came into the young man s eyes. He was 
 almost worn out. He got down from his stool and went to 
 get his coat, and as he did so, Mr. Ducey, coming from the 
 front of the store with an important face, told him: 
 
 "There s somebody asking for you, a lady um if 
 I were you Burke, I - 
 
 Nathan went out, dully wondering; and the lady a 
 little lady in a gray dress who was moving about ner 
 vously amongst the sugar-barrels and bales of hides, put back 
 the veil she wore over her plain bonnet, and came up to him 
 with a piteous pale face and her small hands in shabby 
 gloves held out, fluttering. 
 
 "Mr. Burke?" she said with a great effort at calmness. 
 And then in a heart-breaking voice: "My son my son 
 Jim won t you take me to him, please?" 
 
CHAPTER XVI 
 
 LONGER THAN THE LAST AND SOMEWHAT MORE CHEERFUL 
 
 IT was with an immeasurable relief and thankfulness that 
 Nathan took Mrs. Sharpless on his arm along the streets 
 and back to the boarding-house and the room where her 
 boy lay. And whether poor Jim had actually passed the 
 turning-point in that grave journey on which he was em 
 barked, and was on the mend, ever so fitfully and faintly 
 already; or whether his mother s coming decided the event, 
 we never knew; Vardaman himself said he could not tell. 
 But Burke, for one, has always believed the latter; it is hard 
 to think that her presence did not have something to do with 
 his recovery. She was so brave, so patient, so resolutely 
 hopeful; she radiated perseverance and good cheer. Nathan 
 never saw her break down but that one time in the office, 
 nor shed another tear, although the sight of the comfortless 
 quarters, of the nurse (the drunken old wretch was sleeping 
 sprawled out on Nathan s bed in a hideous disorder when 
 they reached the house), of Jim disfigured by sickness, quite 
 out of his head so that he did not recognize her at all, and 
 croaking, "For his spirit it was tre-men-ju-ous in a 
 lamentable voice all this must have wrung the mother s 
 heart. Mrs. Sharpless never made a single comment, nor 
 even looked one; she took off her black bonnet and veil 
 garments which appear to fulfil every woman s idea of 
 disguise, or the incognito and sat down beside Jim s bed. 
 And Burke, having turned out the nurse as gently as he 
 could, and fetched Mrs. Slaney (who, indeed, had shown 
 herself all along very willing and well-meaning, and flustered 
 and useless), was made himself to go and take some rest in a 
 room good-naturedly loaned by another lodger. The young 
 man protested; he was quite sure that he couldn t close an 
 eye, nevertheless he did, in sheer exhaustion, and slept 
 
 211 
 
212 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 heavily for hours, waking at last towards dusk with a start 
 and the frightful consciousness of duty neglected. He hur 
 ried to the sick room in a miserable tremor, and peeping in, 
 saw Mrs. Sharpless still in her chair by the bed; and Jim 
 asleep, peacefully and naturally asleep for the first time in 
 days. The room was full of the clean winter twilight, red 
 through the west window; the fire burned clear on a tidy 
 hearth; there were white sheets on their two poor iron beds, 
 a white cover over the squalid table. And there sat Mrs. 
 Sharpless, with her soft skirts falling about her, her pretty, 
 sleek, dark hair there was scarcely a thread of gray in it 
 her bright, kind face, a book open on her knee it was the 
 Bible like, I swear, a little gray angel, an angel of com 
 fort and of healing. She looked up with a smile as swift and 
 brilliant as Jim s own, and laid her finger on her lips, as 
 Nathan crept in. "Hush, the doctor has been here and 
 he says he s better!" Burke went up to the bed, and looked 
 at the sick man, more moved than he would have had her 
 see; he had not known how mortal was the fear that hung 
 over him until it was a little lessened. And I trust there 
 was nothing unmanly in his emotion, nor in the regard he 
 felt for his friend. Passing the love of woman ! Mrs. 
 Sharpless took his hand. "Sir, you have been very kind 
 the people here have told me the doctor told me you 
 have been very good " she said. And that was all; nor 
 was there ever any more talk of thanks or obligation between 
 them. I believe neither one ever thought of it. 
 
 Burke did not know upon what terms the Reverend Mr. 
 Sharpless had allowed his wife to come and tend her son. 
 It was not unlikely that she had done so without leave and 
 in the face of her husband s displeasure. " Sharpless senior 
 was a hard old man," Jack Vardaman used to say, shaking 
 his head in wonder and a kind of commiseration; "a hard, 
 stern, self-righteous old man. When I went to tell him about 
 Jim s illness, I felt as I were dashing myself against a stone 
 wall. Possibly I didn t make it clear to him how sick Jim 
 was; he may not have understood. But a man of that 
 temper to preach the Gospel of charity and long-suffering 
 and tenderness! It s cruel and absurd at once. For all 
 that, I could see something admirable in his unflinching 
 consistency; the way he ground down and obliterated every 
 
LONGER AND SOMEWHAT MORE CHEERFUL 213 
 
 vestige of fatherly feeling from his heart. Jim was a sinner, 
 in open rebellion against the Almighty and that he was 
 this sinner s father was an accident which he was determined 
 should in no way influence him. There was a Roman 
 strength of character in the old man; you couldn t but re 
 spect him even when that conscientious inhumanity of his 
 angered and repelled you most. It s easy to see Jim came 
 rightly by that iron streak that kept him adhering to his 
 wrong-headed notions. I believe the martyrs were made 
 of that stuff. Old Sharpless was capable of thrusting his 
 hand into the flames, and crying out : This hath offended ! 
 When it comes to religious matters, there s a mighty faint 
 boundary-line between persecutors and persecuted; give 
 either side the upper hand and history shows you what will 
 happen. It s a great thing to be able to lay down hope and 
 love and ambition and everything that goes to make life 
 tolerable, and at last life itself for the sake of a conviction. 
 How many of us can do it ? I go to church and try to live 
 Christianly; but rather than be burned alive, wouldn t I 
 have offered meat to the idols ? I m afraid so I m afraid 
 so ! Old Sharpless wouldn t ; he would have gone to the 
 stake for his belief. And Jim would go to the stake for his 
 unbelief or whatever you please to call it. What differ 
 ence does it make in the abstract which of them is right ? 
 All your prejudices fade before facts like that ; you can t 
 help feeling a little admiration and a little pity for both men." 
 This estimate was pronounced by the doctor years after 
 wards, when the Reverend Mr. Sharpless had been long gone 
 to his rest under the plain granite tombstone in Greenwood 
 Cemetery, and had found out, perhaps, that that Power 
 whose awful judgments he preached so unsparingly is said 
 also to send rain upon the just and unjust alike, nor lets the 
 sparrow fall unheeded. Nat Burke, to whom it fell to carry 
 to the reverend gentleman the news of his son s continued 
 illness and of Mrs. Sharpless s decision to remain by him, 
 was not so lenient as Vardaman. He thought the elder 
 Sharpless a narrow and merciless old bigot; and went up the 
 path to the parsonage door in a very sour and contemptuous 
 mood. The fact that this same bigot was Mary Sharpless s 
 father weighed no more with the young man than the fact 
 that he was Jim s father; Nat was always able to think of 
 
214 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 Mr. Sharpless in a certain detachment, there was so little 
 of the natural man about him. Could he ever have been a 
 boy and played with a top ? Or a young man and gone 
 a-courting ? There was a quaint impossibility in the notion. 
 A subdued servant-girl came to the door and said the minis 
 ter was in; and showed Nathan into the study. It was a 
 sombre little place with drab-painted walls, a steel-engrav 
 ing of John Knox Calvin some such worthy, in a nar 
 row, hard, black wooden frame (appropriate enough, Nat 
 thought) over the mantelpiece, and two gloomy black horse 
 hair chairs for the parson and the penitent for that is 
 what the attitude and atmosphere of this room suggested. 
 It had a monastic look of retirement and discipline. Mr. 
 Sharpless rose from the table where he seemed to have been 
 meditating his Sunday address and taking notes. On the 
 sheet of foolscap lying there, Nathan saw the text written 
 out in the divine s big, black, powerful hand: "Thus saith 
 the Lord: Cursed be the man that trusteth in man, and 
 maketh flesh his arm, and whose heart departeth from the 
 Lord." 
 
 "You wished to speak to me, sir?" said the minister, bend 
 ing on his visitor a look so like Jim s in its straightforward 
 scrutiny that Burke was momentarily startled. In fact, 
 the father and son were much alike in appearance, being 
 both tall, spare men with a probable reserve of strength and 
 endurance hidden under a not very robust exterior. Nathan 
 briefly stated his name and errand, which the Reverend Mr. 
 Sharpless heard without change of countenance, sitting with 
 his hands loosely joined, and his steady eyes fastened on 
 the young man; he had a long, thin, delicate, and nervous 
 hand, the very model of Jim s. 
 
 "He has been terribly sick, Dr. Sharpless," said Burke, 
 earnestly, conscious of some impalpable barrier, mental or 
 spiritual, between himself and the other. The older man 
 was not hostile; he was imperturbable, hopelessly aloof. 
 "He is not out of danger yet, although Ja Dr. Varda- 
 man tells us there is hope and and Mrs. Sharpless 
 wants to stay with him " 
 
 "It is natural," said the father, gravely; "I should be the 
 last man in the world to cross that desire, Mr. Burke. My 
 daughter will take charge of the house. I should be much 
 
LONGER AND SOMEWHAT MORE CHEERFUL 215 
 
 obliged if you would assure Mrs. Sharpless that that she 
 has no cause for anxiety about anything here, in short. Ah 
 
 who has been attending to James nursing him, I mean 
 
 previous to this?" 
 
 "The doctor and I," said Nat, detecting, or fancying he 
 detected, a painful interest underlying these formal words; 
 "he wasn t neglected, Dr. Sharpless. Of course it wasn t 
 anything like what his mother can do for him. I can t tell 
 you how relieved we were when she came. The whole place 
 looks different, and Jim seemed to get better at once." 
 
 "I inquired," said the minister, stonily, "because I wish 
 to say, Mr. Burke, that any expenses you may have incurred, 
 whether for doctor s bills, or nurses, or medicines, or your 
 own loss of time, I will, of course, discharge. You will make 
 a memorandum of them, I trust, and let me know?" 
 
 "The doctor and druggist will send their bills to you, if 
 you wish it, and if Jim consents, I have no doubt," said 
 Burke, getting up, and it may be implying unconsciously by 
 his manner his inward conviction that Jim never would 
 consent in the world. The other rose, too, arresting him 
 by a gesture as Nat moved toward the door. 
 
 "You, of course, must know you must understand, Mr. 
 Burke, if you know my son and have lived in intimacy with 
 him," said Sharpless, with an effort, "that he has fallen into 
 error has turned against Divine authority and wisdom in 
 a way I cannot, as a believing Christian and an ordained 
 minister, countenance?" 
 
 "I know that you and Jim have had a a difference of 
 opinion," said Burke, wretchedly embarrassed. 
 
 "Opinion!" ejaculated the Reverend Mr. Sharpless 
 and Nathan, for once, recognized that he stood in the pres 
 ence of an intolerance differing not at all in degree or kind 
 from that which lit the fires of Smithfield. As savagely 
 fanatical as it was, as secure in its own conceit, it rebuked 
 the young man; in comparison the large humanity and 
 liberality of mind on which, perhaps, he plumed himself a 
 little, appeared mere spiritual laziness, lax and feeble good 
 nature. "Opinion!" said Mr. Sharpless again. He laid 
 his hand (so like Jim s!) on the desk beside him, and Nathan 
 saw it tremble. "But perhaps you yourself think as he 
 does ?" he said with a distressing attempt at irony. 
 
216 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 "No, I can t say that," said Burke, honestly, stirred in 
 explicably by a feeling of pity and sincere respect; "I m- 
 Fm not quite sure of my beliefs, Mr. Sharpless, but I don t 
 agree with Jim. We don t argue about it we let it alone. 
 He is my friend that s enough for me." 
 
 "Young man," said the minister, solemnly, "do you call him 
 your friend when you know that his path is the way of hell, going 
 down by the chambers of death? Can you see that, and not put 
 out a hand to save him? Do you call that friendship? Or 
 are not you yourself one of those to whom the Lord spoke 
 through the apostle; I know thy works that thou art 
 neither hot nor cold. So then because thou art lukewarm and 
 neither hot nor cold, I will spue thee out of my mouth. " 
 
 "I may be," said Burke, humbly enough; "but, sir, as un 
 certain as I am I I m not afraid of God. 1 I can t talk 
 to Jim or persuade him I don t know how, and I wouldn t 
 if I could. I m no better man than Jim. I think he is the 
 bravest and brightest and kindest I ever knew. Who am I to 
 tell him or anybody what s right or wrong? I m not quite 
 sure where it says in the Bible something about knowing 
 people by their fruits," said the young fellow, hesitating, 
 and feeling himself, as the other had intimated, a pretty 
 shabby sort of Christian; "but we haven t much other way 
 of judging, it seems to me." And having delivered this un 
 conscionably long speech with a hot color and some stammer 
 ing, Mr. Burke took up his hat and edged toward the door, 
 devoutly thankful that the interview was ended. In fact the 
 Reverend Mr. Sharpless allowed him to depart without 
 further argument, whether in indifference, or discouragement, 
 or with the belief entertained by some theologians as I ve 
 understood that he might be saved anyhow through in 
 vincible ignorance. Except one other, it was the only inti 
 mate conversation if one may even call it that Burke 
 ever had with Jim s father; who, nevertheless, remembered 
 the young man s face, and saluted him with a grave and 
 scrupulous courtesy whenever they chanced to meet. 
 
 1 Someone has scrawled in the margin : 
 
 " He s a Good Fellow, and twill all be well ! " 
 
 The handwriting is not Burke s, and we cannot identify it. There is 
 nothing to show that the general was at all familiar with Omar. M.S.W. 
 
LONGER AND SOMEWHAT MORE CHEERFUL 217 
 
 Mrs. Sharpless now taking almost entire charge of Jim ex 
 cept for a few hours night and morning, and his condition 
 rapidly bettering, the room assumed a cheerfulness of aspect 
 that warmed the heart. The boots and pipes vanished. It 
 was the lady s own neat skirts and aprons that hung behind 
 the red calico drapery. The white covers stayed miracu 
 lously white; there were no rolls of lint on the floor, no dust 
 on the ridges of the furniture. Truly these things had not 
 irked the young men much before, but Mr. Burke noted not 
 without surprise that it was possible to be comfortable and 
 yet keep straightened up which is the proper technical 
 term, I am given to understand. Jim s mother accomplished 
 these reforms without any kind of talk or bustle, something 
 which must be all but unheard-of for one woman in another 
 woman s house. But Mrs. Sharpless actually made a friend 
 of Mrs. Slaney! She even went down into the slimy, grimy 
 kitchen and cooked little messes for Jim without antagoniz 
 ing the landlady. I doubt whether Mrs. Ducey could have 
 done it. 
 
 "I m I m afraid it ain t what you ve been used to, 
 ma am," faltered the widow, timidly, the first time Mrs. 
 Sharpless sat down to her slatternly dinner-table. Good 
 Lord, that dreadful table with the red-checked cotton 
 table-cloth with the fly-blown pewter castor in the mid 
 dle with the sticky stone-ware plates with the fried 
 steak swimming in sepia-colored gravy with the extraordi 
 nary translucent, glistening gray, boiled potatoes ! " Every 
 thing is as nice as can be, Mrs. Slaney, and I m sure my boy 
 is very lucky to be in such a good home with such kind friends," 
 said the little lady, gallantly. And the livery-stable keeper 
 from the corner, who was boarding with us just then, stopped 
 cleaning his nails to stare at her across the table. He never 
 swore once during Mrs. Sharpless s stay! Everybody left off 
 abusing the food, and poking questionable pleasantries at the 
 down-at-heel mulatto girl who waited on us. Mrs. Sharpless 
 never said or did a thing in reproof or disapproval; but, in 
 deed, coarseness and vulgarity slunk away abashed from that 
 brave, pure presence. Burke took an absurd and unwar 
 ranted pride in the spectacle; he wanted to cry out boastfully: 
 "Look at her! This is my friend s mother. Did you ever 
 see a finer lady, or a kinder heart ? " 
 
218 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 During this time Nat himself was camping light-heartedly in 
 an unoccupied room of Mrs. Slaney s, which was a u grenier" 
 indeed up the attic stairs and unplastered, with the walls 
 and ceiling displaying that reverse view of a shingled roof 
 with cobwebbed rafters and the points of ten-penny-nails 
 bristling through, which the young gentleman s previous 
 experience of stable-lofts had rendered not unfamiliar to him. 
 His pallet on the floor was next-door neighbor to a bushel or so 
 of black walnuts spread out in a desiccating mat of hulls; and 
 the odd crannies were cluttered with old shoes, old bonnets, 
 old lanterns, and teakettles out of commission, old broken 
 and banged china and tin-ware and blush, oh ye virgins, 
 and ye matrons hide your faces ! a weird collection of 
 derelict corsets and hoop-skirts and nameless articles padded 
 with hair and cotton enough for two or three Mrs. Slaneys, 
 you would have thought. Nathan, who had been a handy, 
 inventive lad in his backwoods days, fashioned a mouse-trap 
 out of one of the hoop-skirts, an engine which he found ex 
 ceedingly useful in those regions. He borrowed an excitable 
 little terrier of one of the boys at the store; and the time 
 being ripe, w r ent down into the back yard, and let loose his 
 captives under the quivering nose and three-legged, trembling 
 anxiety of the terrier, who incontinently fell upon them and 
 smote them hip and thigh to the great content and entertain 
 ment of all the small boys of the neighborhood; and with Jim 
 himself, who could sit up a short while now every day, looking 
 on from the window above and applauding with his weak 
 hands. " Mother couldn t stand the spectacle," he ex 
 plained as Nathan, reentering the room, looked about for that 
 lady. " I suppose she was thinking about the widows and 
 orphans. Anyway the first thing I knew she and Mary had 
 disappeared. They are probably sitting with their fingers 
 in their ears and their faces to the wall in some remote cor 
 ner." 
 
 "She and Mary ?" repeated Burke, in a mighty inward 
 commotion; "you mean your your sister ? " 
 
 " Yes. She s here didn t you see her ? She came in just 
 now. You must have been down in the yard already, though. 
 What s queer about it, Nat ? Why wouldn t Mary come to 
 see me? Father wouldn t make her stay away any more than 
 he would mother, you know," said Jim, in that tone of de- 
 
LONGER AND SOMEWHAT MORE CHEERFUL 219 
 
 fence which, oddly and inconsistently enough, one might have 
 thought, he always adopted at any criticism of his father 
 except his own. 
 
 "I I didn t know " stuttered the other, glancing ner 
 vously at the mirror; "I I didn t think I guess I d 
 better get out, hadn t I ? She ll want to have you to her 
 self, I expect 
 
 Get out stuff ! The idea ! Here where re you going, 
 Nat ? Don t go away don t ! Hang it, she wants to 
 meet you she was saying so just a minute ago and I 
 want her to, too. Look here, you must, you know. Here 
 they are back now!" 
 
 Mr. Burke, turning a fine purple from head to heels, acutely 
 conscious of the traces of the recent conflict about him, and 
 with a secret dread that his stock was coming unbuckled at 
 the back, executed what was probably the most awkward bow 
 ever performed by mortal man, to Miss Sharpless who that 
 moment came in with her mother. The young lady went up 
 to him and put out her small, slim, cool hand, taking Nathan s 
 big clumsy one with a very frank and winning grace. She 
 lifted to him, under the shadow of her pretty bonnet, the eyes 
 he so well remembered. "You ve been so good to Jim, Mr. 
 Burke. I don t know how we are ever going to thank you." 
 
 "I I haven t done anything," said the honest youth, 
 confused and bashful. Nor, in fact, had he; people seemed 
 determined to overrate him; and to the ordinary upright 
 and sensible man I can conceive of few feelings more mor 
 tifying than that of finding himself praised and valued for 
 qualities which he knows he does not possess. 
 
 "Nothing at all it s agreed you ve done nothing," said 
 Jim, waving his hand. "Come here and sit on the bed, Nat, 
 cold-hearted, niggardly, selfish, unprincipled brute that you 
 are. Let the ladies have the chairs, ruffian. This is our 
 bower, Mary. Don t you admire it?" 
 
 "I think it s a very nice room," said Mary, politely. She 
 perched on one of the chairs as daintily as a bird and let her 
 gaze travel about the apartment in unfeigned curiosity. "I 
 never knew how men lived alone, I mean before." 
 
 "You don t know now," said the invalid, grinning over his 
 haggard face. " Mother s got us all cleaned up nobody can 
 find anything, so she s perfectly happy." 
 
220 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 "I hope that s just your fun, Jim," said Mrs. Sharpless, in a 
 little anxiety. She turned to Burke. "I I don t want to 
 make you uncomfortable, you know. The pipes are all in 
 the table-drawer, Mr. Burke; it s a little more more con 
 venient than the mantelpiece, don t you think? And I put 
 your books back exactly in the same places every day when 
 I dust them. I ve had a good deal of experience dusting men s 
 books. I haven t changed anything to speak of, I mean." 
 
 " Why, wasn t it like this when you came? " Mary asked her. 
 Mrs. Sharpless made a little gesture and her bright eyes sud 
 denly filled. 
 
 "Oh, Mary, you ought to have seen it. What do you 
 think ? Those poor boys were keeping their coal in a 
 barrel!" 
 
 "In a barrel! " echoed Mary, in a tone of equal tragedy. 
 The young men exchanged a stare of bewilderment. Why 
 not keep the coal in a barrel f To be sure it was in a decent- 
 looking scuttle now as Burke noticed for the first time 
 but both ladies seemed profoundly moved by this simple in 
 cident. If that was the way some of their surroundings 
 struck Mrs. Sharpless, what did she think of others, Nat re 
 flected, horrified. 
 
 "And I think it s awful the place you re sleeping in now, 
 Mr. Burke," said Mrs. Sharpless, addressing him energeti 
 cally. "I m sure Mrs. Slaney might fix up something nicer 
 than that for you that horrid hole ! I climbed the stair 
 and looked at it the other day. It s a nest of rats and mice 
 Br-r-r! No wonder you had to trap them." 
 
 "Mrs. Slaney! What a name!" ejaculated Mary. 
 
 "Is it true, Nat ? Where are you ? In the cellar ? In the 
 woodshed?" Jim cried out, struggling up on his poor, thin, 
 trembling arm. He was quite weak still, and the tears came 
 into his eyes as he clutched Nathan by the lapel of his coat. 
 "Where are you sleeping, Nathan ? I m such a mullet-head 
 I never thought to ask !" 
 
 "Why, Great Scott, I m on the third floor and as comfort 
 able as a man can be," said the other, soothingly. "Mrs. 
 Slaney hasn t got a better room in the house. It s a great deal 
 warmer than this." Which last statement was no more than 
 the plain truth, for a brick chimney-stack with two or three 
 flues passing up through the attic at a point where Mr. 
 
LONGER AND SOMEWHAT MORE CHEERFUL 221 
 
 Burke could settle his feet against it, he slept in unexampled 
 luxury. 
 
 "I don t believe it," said Jim, falling back. "If you re ever 
 sick, I ll get even with you, Nat Burke," he added with a kind 
 of vindictive affection. 
 
 The mother looked at them both with eyes of fond under 
 standing; and Mary with an innocent interest which Burke 
 found no less touching and captivating. He thought himself 
 the luckiest fellow in the world thus to be brought into con 
 tact with Jim s sister, and sat amazed at this happy fortune. 
 She was everything he had fancied her when he used to sit 
 and dream in the back pew, and watch her at her worship; 
 the realization filled him with content and pleasure. Miss 
 Sharpless presently took off her bonnet and moved about, 
 looking at this and that and asking questions, as artlessly 
 friendly as a child; her head of black braids scarcely came up 
 to Nathan s shoulder; she told him that his shelves were put 
 up as high as for the "sons of Anak," and stood on a chair 
 which he steadied for her with a hand on the seat alongside 
 her trim little feet and ankles in neat gaiters (Nathan could 
 have held them both in one of his great hulking fists!), and 
 took down Blackstone and read out of it with a ferocious 
 emphasis some dictum about women and minors and idiots 
 not being allowed control of their property, with a little 
 shriek of disdain. "I don t like your old Law ! Women and 
 idiots indeed !" she said and made a face and smacked 
 the book to wrathf ully. Nathan thought her adorably sweet, 
 simple, womanly. He took her home through the falling 
 dusk, carrying her music-roll; and she clung to his arm where 
 the crossings were icy; he would have liked to lift her over 
 them bodily or spread down his coat for her to tread upon, 
 like another Raleigh. They talked all the way about Jim, 
 and, I dare say, a little about Mr. Nat Burke, much more 
 than the young man knew, it is likely. He went back to the 
 boarding-house in the beatific prospect of seeing her again 
 shortly on another visit to her brother and wondered rather 
 scornfully what had possessed Jim to imagine that his sister 
 was in the least bit a coquette. Nothing that Nat could see 
 in her warranted the charge do we not all know that mem 
 bers of the same family never understand one another, and 
 that brothers are notoriously unfair ? 
 
222 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 I am uncertain whether at this stage of his career Mr. 
 Burke was an ordinary sentimental young fool, or merely a 
 very lonely boy of a more or less gentle and affectionate dis 
 position. Perhaps he was a little of both. This young man, 
 who felt within him all sorts of pathetic and ill-defined im 
 pulses towards things beautiful and good, who, in his simple 
 fashion tried to keep his eyes on the heights, had never known 
 a home or mother of his own had never spoken to a lady 
 upon equal terms in his whole life before, nor been ad 
 dressed except by one little girl as anything but an 
 inferior order of creature. It never entered his head to com 
 plain, or to pity himself ; he had a serviceable gift of humor 
 that may have saved him many a heartburn, and he humbly 
 believed (as he does at this moment) that a man may be a 
 gentleman without either name, or traditions, or upbringing, 
 or social recognition, or any other qualifications than a good 
 head and heart. But he was sometimes intolerably solitary 
 in his man s world. He liked work; he liked achievement; 
 he had definite ambitions, a standard not easily satisfied; a 
 purposeful pride urged him on. Yet there were moments 
 when in those moods of causeless but none the less heartsick- 
 ening melancholy which overtake all young men, he won 
 dered bitterly to what end was all his striving ? Who cared 
 what he did, or whither he went, or how he fared? Fame 
 and laurels, or a pauper s tombstone in a corner of the potter s 
 field it was all one. There was nobody to rejoice in his 
 successes, nobody to champion him in defeat. He pictured 
 himself with sour mirth half a century hence, a rough, hard 
 ened, old man like George Marsh, laughed at and fawned upon 
 and feared, full-handed, empty-hearted. He figured with a 
 foolish wistfulness what it would be to have some one who 
 needed him, leaned on him, shared with him to have some 
 woman worrying over him as Mrs. Ducey worried over her 
 William over Georgie. In that respect any one of his 
 fellow-clerks or the other young men he knew was better off 
 than he. Some of them were married, and Nathan, with an 
 obscure pang of longing, used to observe them buying toys at 
 Christmas and fireworks for Independence Day. He had 
 been asked to their homes, had even dined there, and met 
 their wives, mothers, and sisters. Alas, too often Mrs. 
 Clerk was a faded, frowzy woman in a soiled morning-wrapper 
 
LONGER AND SOMEWHAT MORE CHEERFUL 223 
 
 and the babies cried and squabbled, and there wasn t quite 
 enough pumpkin-pie to go around unless Mama-in-law 
 Clerk refused which she always did with the air of an early 
 Christian martyr and the young ladies, ^ Jack ^ Clerk s 
 sisters, were big, bouncing, giggling, loud-voiced girls who 
 made eyes, and squealed: "Oh, now, Mr. Burke!" at every 
 thing that gentleman said or did, and accused him of being 
 the worst cut up! Yet of so robust a stuff was Mr. Nat s power 
 of idealization that he refused to believe that all homes and 
 "female society" were as these ; he thought, blushing shyly 
 to himself, that Mary Sharpless s house would be a differ 
 ent place, and contrasted her manners with those of the 
 Misses Clerk, greatly to the disadvantage of those amiable 
 ladies. 
 
 Miss Sharpless who, nevertheless, possessed an unusual 
 and beautiful pair of eyes eminently adapted to such a pur 
 pose never exerted them after this killing style upon Nat, 
 at any rate. And undoubtedly it did not occur to her to 
 charge so long, lean, sober, and quiet a young man with being 
 a lively rogue such as the term " cut-up" implies. She used, 
 on her visits, to sit sedately and darn Jim s socks, and talk to 
 both young fellows in a strain of frank interest as if they were 
 equally her brothers. Sometimes she read aloud in her 
 pleasant, clear, well-modulated voice, On their walks home, 
 she would question Nathan, gravely, about his prospects; 
 she would listen enthusiastically to his plans, which, I fear, 
 Mr. Burke poured out with very great freedom and detail. 
 She asked him in and played for him, and Nat, to whom 
 music in general was a more or less agreeable but always 
 wholly unintelligible noise, listened in rapt delight ! It was 
 fugues and masses and noble solemn chants which Mary 
 performed for him on the jingling old piano "maybe I ll 
 earn enough to buy a new one some day," she would say 
 with a sigh and a sweet, pensive look. What w T ould not Nat 
 Burke have given to have been able to go straight out and 
 send her a Broadwood grand? How he envied he, who 
 couldn t tell a jig from a funeral march the callous little 
 urchins who took lessons from her! 
 
 "I suppose she plays you waltzes and country-dances, of 
 course, Nat?" Sharpless inquired one day with a singular 
 and rather mischievous expression. 
 
224 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 "James!" said his mother, in a troubled voice, "don t 
 joke. You know very well Mary can t help it." 
 
 "Why, I don t see why you re in such a taking about it. 
 Mary could find a hundred justifications in Holy Writ itself. 
 I never heard of a thing you couldn t get some kind of au 
 thority for out of the Bible. Hand it here, will you, Nat ? 
 Didn t David dance before the Ark?" 
 
 "James!" said Mrs. Sharpless again, quite shocked; and 
 Mary gathered her sewing together and rose with a deal of 
 dignity. 
 
 "It s all very well for you to talk, Jim," she said in a tone 
 that intimated it was perfectly brutal; and while Burke 
 looked on, puzzled, not at all understanding the little scene; 
 "at least," said Mary, flushing with an appealing glance 
 directed at him for some reason, "at least I don t offend my 
 father to his face, and embitter his life with dissensions, and 
 and set people gossiping. / don t 
 
 "Of course not. You re entirely open and above-board 
 and act up to your convictions all women do," said Jim, 
 with exasperating good-nature. "Look at em, Nat. 
 They re two of as honest women Good Lord, Ma, don t 
 look so, I mean honest like a man, you know I say, Nathan, 
 they re as honest as any woman ever is, and they haven t 
 told the truth to father for years ! They ll look you straight 
 in the eye and lie like a missionary for your good, you 
 know to make you happy and comfortable ! Yes, Mrs. 
 Sharpless, how do you expect to answer for it on the Judg 
 ment Day when the secrets of all hearts will be laid bare ? 
 What are you going to say, Madame? It will take two, 
 large, powerfully muscled angels to drag mother on the stand. 
 She will resist. She will cry big tears. Lawk, mum, don t 
 take on so! Tain t a mite of use, you know. Look out, 
 Mike, easy does it! Don t go for to shove a lady! says 
 Gabriel. They fall back, Michael respectfully removing 
 his halo to mop his brow. What s this prisoner charged 
 with? says Peter, glowering terribly at mother in the pres 
 ence of the whole of the First Presbyterian congregation, and 
 all the nations of the earth, including a lot of Hottentots in 
 ostrich-feather petticoats, and South-Sea Islanders in noth 
 ing at all. Just think, they ll all be craning and stretching 
 and staring, all the old deacons and elders, partly at mother, 
 but mostly at the South-Sea Islanders !" 
 
LONGER AND SOMEWHAT MORE CHEERFUL 225 
 
 "James!" said Mrs. Sharpless, helplessly; "oh, I know 
 it s awful the way you talk, but somehow you make me want 
 to laugh!" 
 
 "Up steps Satan and being duly sworn, deposes that Laura 
 Sharpless to his certain knowledge, and acting by George, 
 yes ! acting on his advice, has aided and abetted another 
 criminal, to wit: Mary Sharpless, in deceiving one Jona 
 than Edwards Sharpless (sensation in the sheep gallery), 
 father of James Sharpless (sensation in the goat gallery) , into 
 believing that said Mary never plays dance-music, nor per 
 forms at any entertainment for the assembled company to 
 dance, such being contrary to said John E. Sharpless s prin 
 ciples and belief, and a godless and heathenish form of amuse 
 ment. Whereas, in fact, said Mary has been doing it every 
 day for years whenever anybody would pay her, and every 
 man, woman, and child in the town knows it but her father " 
 
 "If you ve finished, Jim " Mary began indignantly. 
 
 Her brother sank back among his pillows, and wagged his 
 hand feebly. "At this point, proceedings were interrupted 
 by one of the cherubim falling downstairs," he said, grinning 
 at Nathan. "Never mind these revelations, ladies, Nat 
 doesn t care how many fibs you tell." 
 
 It was the truth; Nat didn t care. He saw something 
 touching in this poor little deception rendered necessary or 
 at least excusable by the Reverend Mr. Sharpless s ridiculous 
 despotism. "I I must do it, you know, Mr. Burke," 
 Mary said to him tremulously as they parted on the rectory 
 doorstep that evening; "we need the money." She looked 
 like an angel as she said it she was an angel, the young 
 fellow thought. Could he but take care of her, she would 
 need neither to work, or to tell stories any more she should 
 have all her small feminine desires, pretty clothes, and jewels 
 and and he strode away with his head full of foolish 
 dreams. 
 
CHAPTER XVII 
 
 IN WHICH THE HORSE BEING STOLEN NATHAN SHUTS 
 THE STABLE DOOR 
 
 BURKE had already returned to his desk while some of the 
 events last recited were taking place; and was a good deal 
 surprised, touched, and pleased at the warmth of his recep 
 tion. The clerks came and pumped his hands up and down, 
 and thumped him on the back with awkward cordiality; 
 there was a note of genuine feeling in their rough, boyish 
 voices as they told him they had missed him, and asked after 
 Jim. Mr. Ducey welcomed him and made inquiries affably 
 and kindly; old Marsh alone displayed no interest, to the 
 casual view. "Huh, Nathan!" was all he said, looking up 
 over his glasses, as the young man entered, precisely as if he 
 had not noticed his head-clerk s absence at all. An associa 
 tion for any length of time with George Marsh was tolerably 
 certain to correct any notions his subordinates might enter 
 tain of their own value and importance; yet Nat thought he 
 detected a degree of trust and satisfaction in the old fellow s 
 familiar grunt; and, in fact, would have been somewhat 
 taken aback at any manifestation of sentiment from him. 
 There was a queer wordless sympathy between them in spite 
 of the wide difference in their years and characters. So 
 that, when Mr. Marsh, laying down his paper and following 
 thoughtfully Nat s actions as the latter made his preparations 
 for work, remarked finally in a tone of elaborate abstraction: 
 "I shouldn t wonder if you d find plenty to do, Burke. 
 We ve had to get a fellow in your place, of course, while you 
 was away," Nathan perceived what surely no one else 
 would a kind of amusement, irony, or mischief either in 
 his speech or manner, and turned to look at him questioningly . 
 The other met his eye with a humorous gravity. 
 
 " I said we d had to get in somebody a new man. Came 
 
 226 
 
NATHAN SHUTS THE STABLE DOOR 227 
 
 and offered himself, here a week or so ago. He hasn t been 
 particularly efficient but he s a good-hearted chap, Nat; 
 he means well." 
 
 "Who is it? What s his name?" Burke asked, puzzled. 
 
 "Why, George Ducey, to be sure," said Mr. Marsh; and 
 then, observing the expression of blank astonishment and not 
 a little concern certainly anything but complimentary to 
 George on the younger man s face, he fell back in his 
 arm-chair lost in laughter. His heavy sides shook; he had 
 to remove his chew of tobacco; keeping in the meanwhile 
 one small, shrewd, active old eye on the outer regions of the 
 store where Ducey senior was employed with a customer. 
 "Why not George, hey?" he demanded between chuckles, 
 "damn it, Burke, to look at you, one might think you abso 
 lutely didn t trust George. You don t seem to cotton to the 
 notion of George keeping your books. By damn, sir, I m 
 George s uncle, and I don t know whether I like your man 
 ners!" 
 
 "Why, I I of course George is all right, Mr. Marsh," 
 said Burke, trying not to look his anxiety as he opened the 
 ledger whereat old George only laughed the more. "Only 
 he isn t very familiar with figures, you know. And " he 
 caught the other s eye, and grinned against his will, "well, 
 it s about the last thing in the world I should have expected 
 from George, and that s the truth," he confessed. 
 
 "You re mistaken, sir," said the old gentleman, severely; 
 "George knows all about figures more than you know - 
 more than 7 know more than anybody knows. There is 
 nothing left for George to learn. If you don t believe it, 
 look at the books. I went over em myself every night, and 
 I m free to say, sir, I never saw anything equal to the way 
 George can keep accounts!" He took out his huge old ban 
 danna handkerchief and blew a sounding blast. "Well, 
 Nat," he added with real seriousness, "the boy did mean 
 well it s like you say, I never would have thought he d 
 do it. I m afraid I haven t always been just to George; and 
 then he s pretty young still he ll grow. But he did come 
 down here during the holidays it was, too, just after he got 
 back from college and he did offer to do your work, and he 
 did try after his fashion. To be sure I don t believe he d 
 have held out much longer at it there ain t any perse- 
 
228 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 verance or stick-at-one-thing-ness to George he wasn t 
 born that way but give him credit give him credit. He 
 won t get to be President, but he ll keep out of the Peniten 
 tiary, I guess." And with this pointed witticism, Mr. Marsh 
 resumed his survey of the market-reports, having had his 
 joke out and mightily enjoyed its effect on Nathan. 
 
 From this and sundry other remarks of his it will be seen 
 that the uncle had but a small opinion of the nephew; it 
 would have been hard to fancy two people less likely to agree. 
 The older man never scrupled to express himself plainly; 
 and if the younger did not always set forth exactly what he 
 thought of Uncle George to Uncle George, he was not, perhaps, 
 the first man who has made an effort to keep on civil terms 
 with a wealthy old relative whose namesake he was and whose 
 heir he might be. Besides George Ducey was endowed with 
 a stout armor of self-conceit, calculated to turn aside the heav 
 iest blows of sarcasm or ridicule illi robur et aes triplex ! 
 Strong oak and thrice-laid brass encased this hero. It was 
 seldom that his uncle s blunt shafts could penetrate it; and 
 on the rare occasions when George after repeated assaults 
 did become uneasily conscious that he was being made game 
 of or sneered at, his native serenity for he was really a 
 most good-tempered and amiable fellow soon returned. 
 "Uncle George nevah can remembah that I ve grown up/ 
 he would explain indulgently; "he s getting old, y know." 
 
 George had, indeed, the other men as well as Mr. Marsh 
 informed Burke, come down to the office as soon as he reached 
 home a few days before Christmas, upon hearing of the plight 
 they were in, and gallantly undertaken Nathan s duties; 
 and stuck to his post for a week or more although the work 
 was hard and tedious (or would have been if he had under 
 stood anything about it), the office a dull, dark, dirty hole, and 
 the company highly disagreeable to any young gentleman of 
 George s refined and select tastes to say nothing of the fact 
 that there were a great many gayeties going on at that season 
 wherein he would naturally have borne a part. He contrived 
 to accept some of the invitations, and gave the boys at the 
 store long, minute, and brilliant descriptions of these festivi 
 ties. He could remember what every one of the girls wore 
 what he said to them what they said to him! He used to 
 repeat these arch, witty, or sentimental conversations at 
 
NATHAN SHUTS THE STABLE DOOR 229 
 
 considerable length to an audience of grinning youths. He 
 dazzled you with florid details waxed floors candles 
 mirrors fancy ices satin waistcoats pumps tulle 
 and spangles two violins, a harp, and the piano how richly 
 did these terms resound upon the arid atmosphere of the ware- 
 room! How George did flourish and glitter before the hum 
 ble gaze of Burke s f ellow- workers ! His table was piled high 
 with cards; he was besieged with invitations which he heroic 
 ally refused. His mother thought George was working him 
 self into his grave; she told all her friends about his noble 
 unselfish conduct. "The head bookkeeper had to go home, 
 you know it s that young man named Burke that used to 
 be our chore-boy of course you don t remember. But it 
 seems he s living with Jimmie Sharpless now eh? My 
 dear, don t ask me, I don t know anything about them. All 
 I know is that he and Jim have struck up some kind of a 
 friendship and they are living together in a boarding-house 
 somewhere you heard about Jim being so sick, didn t 
 you? Mercy, yes didn t you know about that f Why, he 
 wasn t expected to live for a while! This Burke young man 
 wanted to take care of him, so they let him go, and then the 
 minute George came home, he said right off without anybody 
 having to coax and argue the way they would with most 
 young fellows: All right, father, I ll go right down and take 
 his place. Just like that, you know, right off. All right, 
 father, I ll go straight down and do the work. Well, of 
 course, I know he s my own son, and there s that old saying 
 about every crow thinking its own young one white but I 
 will say I think that was a lovely thing for any young man to 
 do, and I m just as proud of George as I can be. He s hardly 
 been anywhere, and you know there ve been dozens of par 
 ties, and of course he is asked to all of them all the girls are 
 after George the whole time but he just wouldn t go while 
 they were so short of help at the office. Jim Sharpless is 
 getting well, they say; wouldn t you think he d take it as a 
 lesson and a warning f Dr. Vardaman said he was awfully 
 sick poor Jim! I made some chicken-jelly and sent it 
 down to him this morning I don t care how bad he is, I 
 always was fond of Jim, and I can t help feeling sorry for 
 him." 
 
 Quite by accident Burke overheard this speech; and I do 
 
230 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 not know why it should have lingered in his mind to be re 
 peated after all these years, unless because the incident seems 
 somehow to be interwoven part and parcel with one of the 
 best-remembered (perhaps because one of the most unhappy) 
 times of his life. For his own part, Nathan thanked George 
 warmly, and the latter received the thanks with a smile of 
 faint, kindly superiority. " Don t mention it, Burke. Any 
 time you want help, or would like me to show you anything 
 about the books I ll be most pleased," he assured the other. 
 And Nat settled to his duties with a mingled amusement and 
 irritation; and some shame at his own impatience under 
 George s suavity. " Confound him! Why on earth will he 
 spoil a kind and generous action with his infernal airs ? If he 
 has sense enough for one thing, he ought to have sense enough 
 for another!" thought Nathan; and the next time George 
 gracefully approached him for a small loan "pay you to 
 morrow, Nat, or Thursday at farthest, if you could conven 
 iently to-day? Fact is, I m hard up this month Christ 
 mas presents, you know and then, hang it, a fellow has to 
 get out with the boys once in a while, hey?" -I say, when 
 this happened, Nathan supplied him freely, wondering the 
 while at his own eagerness to stand even with George. "I 
 suppose it s a streak of meanness in me," he said to himself 
 with a doubtful smile. He would have lent Jim Sharpless 
 every penny he owned in the world, or borrowed all of Jim s 
 with no such uneasiness. Already they were beholden one 
 to the other for a hundred kindnesses of which neither ever 
 thought to take account. Why should the idea of owing 
 George Ducey a favor be so unbearable? Burke did not dis 
 like him no one could actively dislike George but the 
 boy wearied him ineffably with his etiquette-manual manners, 
 his trivial deceptions, his flat, feeble, pompous chatter. A 
 grown man to be gabbling about ball-room decorations and 
 women s clothes! Before the holidays were well over, he 
 ceased to be entertaining even to the young clerks; they 
 tired of those stories whereof George was eternally the hero, 
 they laughed no more at his ribbon-and-lace conquests; 
 they welcomed the announcement that he was to enter upon 
 the career of medicine with humorous relief and with more 
 than one quaint and pointed comment. Nathan asked Dr. 
 Vardaman if it was true that George was to study in his 
 
NATHAN SHUTS THE STABLE DOOR 231 
 
 office, and to his amazement the doctor confirmed it, although 
 with an extremely odd and unreadable expression. 
 
 It was at about this time that Burke was again called to 
 the front of the store one day to see a lady " Gettin to be 
 kinder popular with em, ain t you, Nat? Runnin after 
 you the way they do after Bay-Rum Pettie, ain t they?" 
 observed the bearer of the summons, flippantly Bay-Rum 
 Pettie being the title which these profane underlings had be 
 stowed on the heir of the establishment behind his back. 
 "It s Miss Blake this time," he added in explanation; and 
 Nathan, who for a moment had harbored the insane hope 
 that it might be Miss Somebody-Else who had the most 
 beautiful black hair and gray eyes in the universe and more 
 over played the piano like Saint Cecilia, went to meet her 
 unreasonably disappointed. It was a snapping cold winter 
 day with snow and brilliant fringes of icicles. Outside he 
 saw a sleigh running over with furs, lap-robes, pretty bright- 
 cheeked girls, from which Francie had descended. She stood 
 just within the door, wrapped up shapelessly in a furred cloak 
 
 it was Mrs. Ducey s, lined with the squirrel fur out of 
 which emerged her round face very fresh, rosy, and sparkling 
 in a frame of blown, brown curls. Between her hands, which 
 had a look in loose mittens of being the paws of some charm 
 ing little animal, she was carefully supporting something done 
 up in immaculate white with a square of note-paper addressed 
 in Mrs. Ducey s slim, correct, Italian handwriting on top. 
 She held it out to Nat with a shy gesture, rather confused and 
 declining the shabby chair one of the young fellows was offer 
 ing her, among the boxes and kegs. He retreated with a 
 glance which Mr. Burke considered by far too frankly ad 
 miring. 
 
 "Nathan, Aunt Anne sent this down, and she says will you 
 take it to Mr. Sharpless she s written a note to his mother 
 
 she says you re to be sure and not lose it," said Francie, 
 answering Nat s grin at this characteristic caution with a dim 
 ple flashing into view at the corner of her mouth, and dis 
 appearing again by magic as she went on soberly: "it s some 
 jelly she s made for him, and none of us knew where he lived, 
 so she says you re to take it to him. And how is he? " 
 
 "He s getting on very well," said Nat, accepting the china 
 bowl and napkin gingerly. "He can sit up several hours a 
 
232 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 day now, and he ll be able to write and thank Mrs. Ducey, I 
 think. It s very kind of her." 
 
 "It wasn t any trouble," said Francie, about to depart, 
 "and oh, Nathan, I nearly forgot, Aunt Anne says you re 
 not to bother about the things, they re old and you don t 
 need to send them back." 
 
 "The things?" repeated Burke, uncomprehendingly. 
 "What things?" 
 
 "Why, the bowl, you know it s cracked, and the napkin 
 is one out of an old worn-out set, that set with the rain-drop 
 pattern, don t you remember?" Francie explained, evidently 
 marvelling at this masculine stupidity. "Aunt Anne picked 
 them out purposely so you could just throw them away with 
 out any bother about returning them." 
 
 "Why, I d just as lief," said Nathan, eying respectfully 
 the napkin which was beautifully white and clean and ap 
 peared to him a handsome piece of table-furniture in spite of 
 a hole here and there they had little squares of the red 
 tablecloth for napkins at Mrs. Slaney s and frequently went 
 without altogether. "It s very nice, isn t it? I ll bring it 
 up. I wanted to come up and and see how Nance is 
 anyhow I meant to long ago," he added in the defen 
 sively apologetic tone he had come to adopt whenever he 
 referred to her, "only Jim s been so sick - 
 
 Francie looked at him startled. "Why, Nathan why, 
 didn t you know ?" 
 
 "Know what?" 
 
 "Why, Nance isn t she isn t at the house she isn t 
 with Aunt Anne any more didn t you know ?" There 
 was an indefinable alarm in her voice ; her eyes widened and 
 darkened after a curious fashion they had whenever the child 
 was frightened or apprehensive. Burke noted it absently; 
 he was not surprised to hear of Nance s departure. In na 
 ture she couldn t stand it much longer, he had often told 
 himself, and his first feeling was akin to relief. The experi 
 ment was bound to end uncomfortably, but at last it was 
 ended. 
 
 "Where did she go? Back to the country? It s odd she 
 didn t come and tell me," he said. 
 
 "Oh, Nathan, didn t you know?" Francie reiterated in a 
 voice of miserable consternation, "she she went away 
 
NATHAN SHUTS THE STABLE DOOR 233 
 
 because she she had to go she took something of Aunt 
 Anne s at least Aunt Anne Aunt Anne thought she 
 did " Francie interrupted herself eagerly. "Aunt Anne 
 says she knows oh, Nathan, I m so sorry!" Indeed she 
 looked so; her eyes filled; dread and anxiety together 
 clouded her face as she met the young man s gaze. "I don t 
 know why, but we thought of course you knew about it. We 
 thought George or some one would have told you." 
 
 "Took something? Took something of your aunt s? 
 You mean she stole it ? " said Burke, with dry lips. 
 
 " Yes. That is, Aunt Anne is sure she did " said the girl, 
 hesitating in her honesty and sympathy; and visibly almost 
 as much distressed as if she herself had been accused of theft. 
 "Oh, Nathan, it hurts me to be the one to have to tell you! 
 It was that brooch, you know. Aunt Anne s had it for ever 
 so long, she s so fond of it. Don t you remember, it was 
 heart-shaped, an opal with diamonds around it? Uncle 
 Will gave it to her I think it was when you first came 
 it was that long ago, wasn t it, Uncle Will? The brooch that 
 Nance st that Aunt Anne says she st that Aunt Anne 
 missed the other day, you know?" She appealed to Mr. 
 Ducey, who had come up and stood by, fidgeting a little. 
 There was an abrupt silence. One or two of the boys, some 
 how scenting trouble, lingered near, alert and listening. 
 Burke, who had been holding the bowl all this while between 
 his two hands, set it down on the head of a barrel beside 
 him, with a kind of mechanical and painful deliberation as if 
 it had been of extreme value. He swallowed before he 
 spoke, his voice sounding strange in his own ears. 
 
 "When did this happen?" he said. 
 
 "Several weeks ago month maybe really I don t 
 quite recollect when," Ducey said, rather irritably and un 
 easily, pulling his watch out of his pocket, and snapping the 
 cover open and glancing at it and putting it back two or three 
 times over with the air of haste and preoccupation habitual 
 with him during business hours and at the store. "Haven t 
 seen anything of Wilson, have you, Burke ? I m looking for 
 him this morning to close up that deal let s see, I hope my 
 memorandum agrees with yours in the books " said Wil 
 liam, who was always fussing about with notes and slips and 
 references "five hogsheads Demerara sugar, and that 
 
234 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 lard, you know, let s see um er too bad about the 
 Darnell girl ah um " he walked away nervously, and 
 we heard old Marsh s heavy voice raucously delivering some 
 command in the office in the rear. 
 
 "It was the beginning of December before the holi 
 days before George came home," Francie said, faltering; 
 "it was just after Aunt Anne was so sick she she says 
 that s when Nance when it happened." 
 
 "You mean Nance took it and went off with it ?" 
 
 "No, oh, no. She didn t go till afterwards till Aunt 
 Anne found out - 
 
 "Mrs. Ducey saw her take it? Or found it on her?" 
 Burke asked. 
 
 "No, no. She says she knows Nance took it, though, be 
 cause because she " Francie hesitated again; she loved 
 her aunt, and with Francie love and loyalty were one stuff 
 and that a stout sort, innocent of shades or varieties. Yet 
 something in the young man s face moved her to add almost 
 pleadingly in a lowered voice : "Nathan, you know how Aunt 
 Anne is. She s just as sure. Nance said she didn t take it - 
 and and I believed her. I don t think she would steal 
 anything. But you know how Aunt Anne is !" 
 
 "Nance left the house then? Where did she go?" said 
 Burke, harshly. 
 
 "Nathan, I don t know. She got a place somewhere 
 Aunt Anne heard but she isn t there any more 
 
 She shrank a little before his hard eyes, all the color quite 
 gone out of her sweet, earnest face. I daresay this Nathan 
 was a new man to Francie, a forbidding stranger. She was a 
 devoutly obedient nature, gentle-tempered, trusting, wholly 
 ignorant of the world, and it may be that she now perceived 
 for the first time at one stroke, in all its ugliness, what this 
 thing was that had happened, and glimpsed unexpected 
 depths of tragedy. She clasped her two small mittens to 
 gether in a pitiful gesture. "Oh, Nathan, I m so sorry, so 
 sorry! Aunt Anne I wish you could see Aunt Anne " 
 
 "I will," said Nat, sombrely. 
 
 The girls were challenging her gayly from the sleigh; and 
 when she went out to join them, there was a gust of laughter 
 and questions and pretty little outcries. The young women 
 doubtless wondered much at Francie s grave face, and were 
 
NATHAN SHUTS THE STABLE DOOR 235 
 
 profoundly amused at the stiff, silent young man who came 
 out with her and helped her to her seat without a word. 
 
 The Ducey house was pleasantly lit as Nathan went up 
 the brick walk that evening. Bright shafts of light streamed 
 through the windows, where the Christmas wreaths of holly 
 still hung against the panes peace on earth, good-will to 
 men, Burke thought with a fierce irony, noting these symbols. 
 He was too ill at ease with his own conscience, too racked by 
 bootless regrets to spare a little charity to others. Why had 
 he ever lost sight of Nance? He could not have kept this 
 from happening, perhaps he recalled with a bitter humor 
 the hosts of outraged servant-girls whom he had witnessed 
 in the old days, declaiming, protesting, bewailing their 
 unjust lot in Mrs. Ducey s kitchen. No, he could not have 
 prevented it but he might have tried to keep in closer 
 touch with Nance; if she could have relied on his faith and 
 friendship, she might have come to him, told him, asked his 
 help. In God s name, thought the young man desperately, 
 why didn t she come anyhow ? She could not have sup 
 posed for an instant that he would believe this wretched 
 charge ? Where was she ? What had become of her ? He 
 had spent the afternoon in fruitless search. It was more 
 than a month but the town was a small place after all 
 she must be somewhere in it. He might have thought 
 he would have been very glad to think that she had gone 
 back to her old home, to the cabin on the Scioto; but, as 
 luck would have it, he had fallen in, during his inquiry, with 
 Liph Williams, come in town for the day s trading; and 
 " How s Nance ? Seen her lately ? " asked the farmer, cheer 
 fully, among his greetings. " No. Have you ? " Nat said with 
 a pang of apprehension. Liph thought he was joking and 
 poked him in the side with grins and winks. "Ho, ho, 
 smarty! Me see her, hey? It s just like my woman says, 
 Nance ll never come back to th country, no more n you ever 
 will, Nat. Town s th place young folks likes. Does Nance 
 like it up to Ducey s, though ? Joe didn t much Joe, he 
 quit, ye know. He lowed Nance would, too, after a spell. 
 Say, you tell Nance we d be right down glad to see her any 
 time she feels like comin out. Ye might bring her some day 
 yerself, Nat, if both of ye could git a day off." 
 
236 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 Shame tied the other s tongue, forbade explanations. He 
 could not tell Williams the miserable truth. Time enough 
 for that when he himself should have found out something 
 definite about the poor girl, he thought, shrinking. He 
 would not let Liph carry this sorry tale out to the back 
 woods. If Nance herself would not go there with her trouble, 
 was it for him to send it ahead of her ? He recoiled from the 
 thought of her name loaded with this accusation passed from 
 tongue to tongue out there in her old haunts, among the men 
 and women who had seen her grow up. They liked her, 
 doubtless some of them would believe in her and champion 
 her; but she was Jake Darnell s daughter, and Nat knew the 
 world well enough to know how ill that relationship would 
 stead her, even among people who were no whit better 
 themselves. Gossip is everywhere ready to announce the 
 solid truth that figs do not grow on thistles, and will be as 
 brisk, as sharp, and as short-sighted in the fields as on the 
 sidewalk. 
 
 There was music in the parlor and company. The young 
 men, all of whom knew Burke, and nodded, staring a little, 
 were carrying chairs out into the hall and pushing the 
 furniture back in preparation for dancing. Nat was ushered 
 into the dining-room where the folding-doors were drawn to, 
 and the table set with piles of plates and sandwiches and cake 
 in Mrs. Ducey s handsome silver cake-baskets, and cut-glass 
 saucers of sweets. He knew the room well. There was a 
 mirror over the mantel-shelf and a French clock of bronze 
 with a figure of Galileo seated upon the flat summit of it, 
 and bronze candelabra flanking it at either end, between 
 which ornaments Burke caught sight of his own grim and 
 pallid features as he waited. He could hear Mrs. Ducey s 
 sweet, decided voice on the other side of the closed doors : 
 " George said right off - " Well, of course, I know I m his 
 mother, but I do think that was a lovely thing for any young 
 man to do " and an appreciative murmur from the listener. 
 We have heard her already, haven t we ? In a moment she 
 came rustling in with her quick unerring step, about which 
 there was a kind of peremptory lightness. She was dressed 
 for the evening in bright silks and laces; her lovely fair face 
 bloomed above her finery. " Well, Nathan, how do you do ? 
 I haven t seen anything of you for a long while. It s cold, 
 
NATHAN SHUTS THE STABLE DOOR 237 
 
 isn t it? Come close by the fire, you must be almost 
 frozen." 
 
 "I came up to ask about Nance Darnell, Mrs. Ducey," 
 said Burke, without preamble. 
 
 "Yes, I know. Francie told me. W asn t; it a pity?" 
 She turned towards him with an expression of genuine dis 
 tress and trouble. "Oh, Nathan, I ve often thought of it 
 since I found her out, you were right when you warned me 
 not to take Nance in the house. You knew her better than I 
 did you remember you told me so, but I just wouldn t 
 listen, when you cautioned me against her. You see 
 
 " I ? I warned you against Nance ? " said Nat, in a ghastly 
 bewilderment. 
 
 "Yes, don t you remember? Why, surely you remember 
 coming up here and telling me over and over again that you 
 thought I d better not take her, because I didn t know any 
 thing about her and you did. The trouble was I didn t at 
 all realize what you meant," said Mrs. Ducey, in almost an 
 apologetic tone, "I didn t understand, and I did so want to 
 do something for her as long as it sort of seemed as if we had 
 been mixed up in her father s death." She looked at the 
 young man with a real appeal for sympathy. "Isn t it 
 dreadful how Nance has turned out after all I did for her ? I 
 suppose you thought I was very headstrong, but you really 
 didn t speak plain enough, Nathan; it would have been the 
 better kindness." 
 
 "I don t think you understand now, Mrs. Ducey," said 
 Burke, appalled with a sudden sense of the futility of argu 
 ment. By what feminine process of reason or imagination 
 she had so distorted his own words and actions, he could not 
 even guess, but it erected a wall of adamant between them on 
 the instant, strengthened by Mrs. Ducey s own absolute 
 honesty and sincerity. For a flash there seemed to him a 
 kind of exasperating dulness about it yet he knew Mrs. 
 Ducey to be anything but a dull woman. "I don t think 
 you understand," he repeated painstakingly; "I never meant 
 to warn you against Nance. I don t know what I could 
 have said that could have given you the idea 
 
 "Why, Nathan, it s not possible you don t remember ?" 
 exclaimed Mrs. Ducey, amazed; "you came and told me 
 yourself she wasn t fit to take in the house why, you said 
 
238 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 so don t you remember f " She looked at him helplessly 
 questioning. "What did you say if you didn t say that, I d 
 like to know?" 
 
 "I don t remember what I said exactly, Mrs. Ducey," 
 said Burke, despairingly; "but I must have put it very badly, 
 for warning you against Nance was the last thing in the world 
 I should have thought of. I want you to believe that. I 
 had no idea of such a thing." 
 
 "Hm! Well, I certainly took it that way when I came to 
 think it over the other day when I found out that she had 
 stolen my brooch," said Mrs. Ducey; "but anyhow there s 
 no use in talking about that now. Whatever you meant to 
 say and I m sure I can t imagine what you did mean if not 
 that there s no use now. You mustn t think I am suspect 
 ing you of knowing anything about it, Nathan," she added 
 quickly and with the utmost kindness; "I see you were as 
 much deceived in Nance as I was it s so easy for any girl 
 to pull the wool over a young man s eyes. Why, I wouldn t 
 dream of suspecting you. Don t worry about that." 
 
 "Yes, I ve lived here on the place, and in the office several 
 years and never stolen anything, though I ve had many op 
 portunities, so I suppose my honesty is fairly well estab 
 lished," said Nat, in savage sarcasm. 
 
 "Yes. Of course. Whatever I am, I always try to be just 
 and reasonable, "said Mrs. Ducey. "We all make mistakes, I 
 suppose," she went on gravely; "I made one about Nance. 
 But you re not to blame, Nathan; I m sure you meant well. 
 If you had just told me flat you were afraid she couldn t be 
 trusted, it would have been so much better; but I suppose 
 you weren t quite sure, and it s wrong to say things like that 
 unless one is absolutely sure. I understand just how you 
 feel." She cast a glance of housewifely concern over the 
 table. "Wouldn t you like a doughnut or something ?" 
 
 Burke declined, conscious of a bitter comedy in the scene. 
 "Would you mind telling me you know I only heard about 
 it to-day how you came to suspect that is, what made 
 you think Nance had taken your breastpin ? How it all hap 
 pened, I mean?" he amended hurriedly, seeing Mrs. Ducey 
 stiffen at something in the wording or manner of this inquiry. 
 
 "There was no thinking or suspecting at all about it, Na 
 than," she said with dignity. "I hope you don t believe I 
 
NATHAN SHUTS THE STABLE DOOR 239 
 
 would accuse a person on mere suspicion, or because I just 
 thought they had stolen something. Of course, I can t prove 
 it no one can ever prove anything of this kind, because that 
 sort of thief is always too smart ever to have it proved on 
 them I simply know. I know just as certainly as if I had 
 seen Nance take it with my own eyes anybody would 
 know. It happened while I was sick, you know. I thought 
 it was kind of queer how Nance insisted on being in the room 
 with me, and waiting on me all the time, and not letting any 
 one come near me; and she kept the room so dark, you know, 
 and moved around like a cat without the least noise well, 
 of course when I m sick I don t like light and noise and a lot 
 of people around me, so that I never suspected at the time 
 what she was up to and besides I was too sick to notice 
 much. I had my brooch put away it was that opal set in 
 diamonds you must have seen me wear it I was so fond 
 of it said Mrs. Duc.ey, pathetically, her pretty eyes 
 brimming. " Will Mr. Ducey gave it to me long ago - 
 I d rather she had taken almost anything than that. That s 
 what I told her it was so heartless 
 
 " You you caught her with it?" said Burke. 
 
 "No oh, mercy, no! How innocent men are where a 
 young woman is concerned!" said Mrs. Ducey, pityingly; 
 "as if she would have let me catch her with it! She was a 
 great deal too sharp for that ! I ought to have been more 
 careful, I suppose, but I never thought. I remember now 
 she always looked at it so admiringly whenever I put it on, 
 and once she said to me: That s a lovely piece of jewelry, 
 it just suits you. What is the name of that stone? So I 
 told her it was an opal. Then she wanted to know where it 
 came from and all about it and, Nathan, I was so un 
 suspicious it never entered my head that she was trying to 
 find out whether it was worth anything! She didn t ask a 
 word about the diamonds, because she knew how costly they 
 were, don t you see ? That just shows ! Only after I had told 
 her all I knew about opals, I said just for curiosity, you know, 
 without thinking anything, because she did say such funny 
 things sometimes, it amused me so: What did you want 
 to know for, Nance? And she colored up and said just 
 as confused and hesitating as could be, l They make me think 
 of snow in a hollow with the sun kind of red on it, winter 
 
240 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 evenings/ Now did you ever hear such a rigmarole as that ? 
 Of course she had to think up some kind of explanation right 
 away, and that was the best she could do on the spur of the 
 moment. I ought to have been on my guard, only I never 
 thought at the time. But you see how plain it all is," said 
 Mrs. Ducey, pausing for breath. 
 
 "I see/ said Burke, heavily. He sat listening with folded 
 arms and head on his chest. Good God, poor Nance, with 
 her awkward tongue, her vague, wild, shy fancies! 
 
 "Well, I put away my brooch in the same place I always 
 do, just the night before I was taken sick before I had to 
 go to bed, I mean. I was feeling miserable for two or three 
 days before that, but I never give up till the last minute. I 
 generally lock up my things, and I m sure I did that night, 
 but Nance came in and insisted on making me a hot lemonade 
 and fixing a foot-bath, and she helped me undress, and of 
 course she kept her eyes open all the time it must all have 
 been part of her plan I shouldn t wonder if she d been 
 waiting days for a chance 
 
 "She could hardly have calculated on your sickness or 
 timed her actions so accurately, could she?" Nathan could 
 not refrain from suggesting. 
 
 "Oh, my, people like that are just as sharp as nails 
 you ve no idea ! They have all kinds of ways of doing that 
 honest persons would never think of," said Mrs. Ducey, with 
 conviction. "Of course I don t know when Nance took 
 it I don t believe she took it that night. But she knew 
 where it was and all she had to do was to bide her time 
 
 "Did nobody else in the house know where it was?" 
 Burke asked. 
 
 Mrs. Ducey stared. "Why, you don t suppose Mr. 
 Ducey or Francie would have taken it, Nathan ? It was long 
 before George came home well, of all the absurd 
 
 "I mean the other servants." 
 
 "Oh, the other servants don t count. I only had a woman 
 coming in by the day at the time to wash and iron and do the 
 cleaning, and she always went home at night. And anyway, 
 I always hide my jewelry carefully so that a strange person 
 coming in couldn t possibly find it. No, it s no use, Nathan," 
 said Mrs. Ducey, shaking her head regretfully; "I thought of 
 all those things the same as you are doing when I got up after 
 
NATHAN SHUTS THE STABLE DOOR 241 
 
 I got well, and found my brooch was gone, and it was per 
 fectly plain that Nance was the one who had taken it. I felt 
 terribly, Nathan; I hated to think that anybody could be so 
 ungrateful and unprincipled." 
 
 "Well, then, you accused her of it?" 
 
 "No, I didn t accuse her, Nathan. I tried to be kind. I 
 just called her into my room, and told her what had hap 
 pened, that I couldn t find my brooch anywhere, and I was 
 sorry but I knew some one must have stolen it, and I was 
 afraid I knew the person. And then I stopped and waited 
 to see what she would say and give her a chance to clear her 
 self. I just sat quietly and waited 
 
 "And she said nothing, I suppose?" said Nat. He got 
 up out of his chair and walked the room restlessly in unavail 
 ing pity. 
 
 "Why, that s just what she did said nothing, I mean," 
 ejaculated Mrs. Ducey, in surprise; "but how did you guess? " 
 
 "It s it s the way people act sometimes," said Burke, 
 huskily. 
 
 "She just stood there like a statue. And then I said to 
 her just as gently and kindly as I could, because I didn t want 
 to make it any harder for her than I could help : l Nance, 
 I said, don t be frightened. Tell me the truth. I won t let 
 any one hurt you, and nobody shall ever know about it but 
 myself. I know you were overcome by a sudden temptation 
 when you took my brooch, but you are a very young girl, and 
 young girls love pretty things, and I m not going to blame 
 you. I just feel sorry for you. Now you bring the brooch 
 back to me, and I promise you I ll never say a word about it 
 to any one. I don t see how I could have been kinder than 
 that, do you?" 
 
 "It might have been kinder to have made sure she took it 
 first, I think," groaned the young man, hopelessly. 
 
 "Why, Nathan, I was perfectly sure. I don t believe 
 you ve been listening. The whole thing is as plain as A B C. 
 Goodness, don t you suppose I d have been glad and happy 
 to think that I d lost it some way, or that some one else had 
 stolen it?" cried out Mrs. Ducey, her lips trembling. "It 
 was perfectly awful the most awful thing I ever had to go 
 through with. And to find her so hardened " 
 
 "What did she say or do?" 
 
242 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 "Why, she just kept as still and quiet as a stone per 
 fectly barefaced and callous, staring at me while I was talk 
 ing. And then all at once she burst out laughing did you 
 ever hear of anything so horrible?" 
 
 "And then what?" said Burke, setting his lips. 
 
 1 i Well, you know Francie was in the room and Francie would 
 interfere I couldn t stop her. She ran up to Nance and 
 took hold of her hands and began to cry and say she knew 
 Nance hadn t taken it, and she kept saying: Say some 
 thing, Nance, say you didn t do it; you know you didn t do it!" 
 until she got quite hysterical and I had to make her go out 
 of the room. It was awful, the whole thing. So then I tried 
 and tried to make Nance give it back, but she simply wouldn t. 
 Just said once or twice in a sullen way that she never had had 
 it, even when I told her how lenient I was being with her, and 
 how some people wouldn t hesitate to send her to jail." 
 
 "After that you sent her away, I suppose?" 
 
 "No, I didn t!" Mrs Ducey exclaimed, flushing with in 
 dignation and drawing herself up. "I don t know what to 
 make of you, Nathan; you seem to think I d be positively 
 cruel. I wouldn t do a thing like that. She went herself. 
 If she had stayed, I d have kept on, and showed her how 
 wrong she was, and persuaded her into giving the brooch up 
 
 unless she d pawned it or something, and even then we 
 could have got the ticket and got it back. But you see she 
 was afraid to stay that shows she was guilty; if she d been 
 innocent, she wouldn t have cared. But she went right off 
 that very day, an hour or so afterwards." 
 
 "You don t know where she went?" 
 
 "Oh, yes. We heard in a day or two that she had an 
 swered an advertisement of a friend of mine Mrs. David 
 Gwynne you know, you ve seen her ?" 
 
 Nathan nodded, pausing in his stride about the room. 
 
 "It seems she had been wanting a housemaid, and she 
 recognized Nance at once, and never asked any questions; 
 just took it for granted, she said, that Nance had had some 
 fuss with me and took her right in. She said to me : You 
 know, Anne, you re always fussing with your servants! 
 Marian Gwynne is so queer " added Mrs. Ducey, in paren 
 thesis "just as queer as if she were really a Gwynne herself 
 
 they re all queer, you know " 
 
NATHAN SHUTS THE STABLE DOOR 243 
 
 "Is Nance there now?" asked Nathan, with reviving hope. 
 
 Mrs. Ducey looked shocked. "Why, no, of course not. I 
 couldn t leave Mrs. Gwynne in ignorance, you know my 
 own friend! If it had been somebody I didn t know, it would 
 have been different but my own friend! Why, I just had 
 to tell her. I sat down and wrote a note and warned her the 
 minute I heard Nance was in the house." 
 
 Burke stood dumb before this exposition of the feminine 
 code. " Then Mrs. Gwynne sent her off, I ve no doubt ? " 
 he inquired. 
 
 "Oh, gracious, yes! You know the Governor s house is 
 full of elegant things, and then Louise that s her daughter 
 is going to be married, and of course she has the greatest 
 quantity of clothes and wedding-presents. Marian said it 
 was too much of a risk; she d rather have the inconvenience 
 of being without an upstairs-girl." 
 
 "Have you any idea where Nance went from there? Or 
 would Mrs. Gwynne be likely to know ?" 
 
 " Mercy, Nathan, of course not ! They ve been just as busy 
 as can be with the wedding for weeks it s the day after to 
 morrow, and they haven t had time to think of anything else. 
 And anyway you couldn t keep track of a person like Nance 
 unless she had the face to go and hire out to somebody else we 
 all knew but I suppose she didn t try that again, as it s three 
 or four weeks now and we haven t heard. I know it s a dread 
 ful thing to have happen, Nathan," said Mrs. Ducey, with real 
 sympathy in her voice; "it must be so hard for you to have a 
 girl that you ve known all your life turn out this way. Do 
 you know we thought for a while that you were were in 
 terested in Nance in a different way a not at all brotherly 
 way, you know you did so much for her. But afterwards 
 you never came near her while she was here, so I saw it was 
 mere friendship. Still, that doesn t make it any easier for 
 you. But you don t need to worry so. She s perfectly ca 
 pable of taking care of herself, wherever she is." 
 
CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 CONTAINS SUNDRY SOCIAL EXPERIENCES 
 
 I HOPE that Burke s grandchildren will never know a dis 
 tress of mind equal to that with which the young man walked 
 away from the Ducey house in pursuit of his dreary quest. 
 His thoughts beat about in an idle circle of self-reproach, 
 self-excuse. Over and over again he repeated to himself 
 that had Nance come to him (and why had she not?) and had 
 he known all at the time it happened, he still could have said 
 and done nothing to move Mrs. Ducey from her conviction. 
 She was obstinate and merciless as only a truly good and up 
 right woman can be, but to Nathan s youth and inexperience 
 there was something profoundly amazing, even abnormal in 
 this association of qualities. He learned to know the world 
 of womankind better, but at the moment he raged helplessly 
 against what seemed to him a woful lack of logic and hu 
 manity and ordinary common sense. To any one who knew 
 Nance, even slightly, it was impossible to believe that she 
 could have stolen this bauble; it was monstrous to charge 
 her with the theft; monstrous to translate the poor thing s 
 astonished silence, her fierce helplessness, as signs of guilt. 
 Nathan, who would have freely acknowledged a man s in 
 capacity to understand the girl, at least understood her better 
 than the good-hearted, ruthless woman with whom she had 
 lived a year. Yet Francie understood her; the remembrance 
 stirred him with a throb of tenderness. He went back to the 
 office, and lit a candle at his desk, and scrawled a word or 
 two of thanks to Francie from a full heart; earnestly en 
 treating her to keep on believing in Nance, and to defend her 
 when occasion came, and to let him know whenever and 
 whatever she might chance to hear of the poor outlaw. He 
 was on the edge of signing himself hers affectionately, when 
 he remembered with a blush and a kind of laugh that she was 
 considered a young lady now, and might very properly 
 resent so much familiarity from him, so that he ended by 
 
 244 
 
SUNDRY SOCIAL EXPERIENCES 245 
 
 being Sincerely, Nathan Burke, and went out and despatched 
 the note with a slightly easier mind. 
 
 Jack Vardaman, whom Nathan found at the room when he 
 returned after performing these duties, sitting and chatting 
 with Mrs. Sharpless by the reformed and sightly hearth, eyed 
 the young man closely as he entered, commenting on his 
 worn and weary look. " You re getting thinner, I believe, 
 Nat," he said; "and you haven t much margin in that di 
 rection. Heavens, what a beak you ll have! Worse than 
 mine and that s a hard thing to say of any man s nose!" 
 
 " It s taking care of me and sitting up nights," said Jim, and 
 put out his lean fist and pounded Nathan affectionately on the 
 knee. "Just you wait just you wait till I get you down, 
 my lad!" 
 
 Mrs. Sharpless laid down her work and looked over at 
 Nathan with a sudden disconcerting acuteness. Her bright 
 face softened inexplicably. "What it is, Mr. Burke what 
 has happened?" she said quickly and earnestly; "you 
 look so oh, I know something has happened." 
 
 "Why, I I stammered Nat, in confusion, a good 
 deal startled and touched by this interest ; and then he quite 
 gave way before their three kind, concerned faces, and told 
 them the whole infinitely small and meanly pathetic tale. 
 He had not meant to; but the young fellow hungered for 
 counsel and sympathy; he wanted confidence, wanted help, 
 wanted somebody to listen to his complaints and be influ 
 enced by his arguments. 
 
 " It s hard to make you understand how I feel about Nance," 
 he said, walking nervously up and down with unusual ges 
 tures, all his excitement at last released and mastering him. 
 The little audience watched him with wonder; no doubt there 
 was something almost painful to them in this sudden violence 
 of so silent and reserved a man. " I feel as if it were somehow 
 all my fault all my fault. I ought to have taken better 
 care of her. I promised Darnell I meant to. But some 
 how things interfered I don t know how it was time 
 went by I let it go. On the face of it, you know, it looked 
 all right. Anybody would have said she had a good home 
 and so she had. Only I knew all along it wasn t the home 
 for her. But what ought I to have done for her ? Where 
 could I have put her ? And now this ! Why, it s incredible, 
 
246 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 I tell you; I d as soon call one of you a thief. I wouldn t 
 have believed any woman could be as hard as Mrs. Ducey; 
 she hasn t a shred of proof, not a rag, not a shadow of a reason 
 even for a suspicion but when she was talking to me there, 
 why, I saw it would take nothing less than an angel from 
 heaven, a miracle, to make her believe otherwise. What s 
 the matter with all the women, anyhow ? Why, even Mrs. 
 Slaney, when I told her that a young woman named Darnell 
 might possibly come here asking for me she said none 
 had and if she did to tell her that I was looking for her and 
 not let her go away even Mrs. Slaney looked blank and 
 began to hem and haw, and say she didn t know, and she d 
 always kept a respectable house! What s Mrs. Slaney got 
 against Nance? I suppose she s heard this wretched story 
 it s always the way, everybody in the place hears a thing 
 except the person most interested but she might take my 
 word for Nance." 
 
 There was a brief silence after this outburst. Mrs. Sharp- 
 less took up her work, and set a stitch or two; then she 
 abruptly put it down. "Well, but are you so certain about 
 this this girl, Mr. Burke? I mean you think you know 
 all about her? She s very pretty I ve seen her at Mrs. 
 Ducey s and I must say she looked as if she might have an 
 awful temper; but, of course, that hasn t got anything to do 
 with this. The trouble is it s so easy for a young man to be 
 deceived in a young woman a handsome young woman 
 
 Nathan looked at her despairingly; he could have groaned 
 aloud. 
 
 "Oh, mother, mother, you too!" said Jim, and gave his 
 friend a glance of whimsically commingled humor and 
 sympathy; "you may as well give em up, Nat. I believe 
 there never was a woman in this world so good but that she 
 was ready to say another woman was no better than she 
 ought to be!" 
 
 "I didn t say that at all, James; you know I wouldn t say 
 a thing like that," cried his mother, reddening indignantly, 
 and with her face quivering a little as sometimes happened 
 under Jim s good-nature satire; "I m just as sorry for the 
 girl as can be. And of course I don t know anything about 
 her character, but I hope she s all right. I only said " 
 "You only announced a very sound and kindly principle, 
 
SUNDRY SOCIAL EXPERIENCES 247 
 
 I know I know," said Jim, patting her hand, "never mind 
 what I say; don t feel badly. I m your angel child, but I m 
 a brute sometimes, I know it." 
 
 "Anyhow, if Nance were the dangerous character all the 
 ladies think she is, she s getting her deserts apparently," 
 Burke said with bitterness, " being hunted from house to 
 house, and now lost to sight utterly! It seems I m powerless 
 to help her now, whatever I could have done once." 
 
 Vardaman got up and laid his hand on the other s shoulder. 
 "Why, Burke," he said with a sort of sensible and kindly 
 sharpness, "don t you see how it is? A young man can t go 
 around taking care of a young woman, a kind of a stray young 
 woman to whom he s not even distantly kin, these days. 
 Knight-errantry doesn t gee with our modern notions of 
 propriety somehow. You ve got to be interested in her as a 
 grandfather, or, by Jingo, you can t be interested in her at 
 all! Even the grandfathers aren t any too safe, according 
 to the ladies " 
 
 "Dr. Vardaman!" said Mrs. Sharpless, reddening over 
 her whole face, and rising, "I think I d better leave you to 
 talk over the matter among yourselves, gentlemen, since it 
 seems / don t know anything about young women!" 
 
 "Oh, don t be foolish, mother," said Jim, pulling her down; 
 "let Jack go on. He s not saying anything improper." 
 
 "Now you re not the girl s brother, and I take it you don t 
 want to marry her ?" went on Vardaman, unmoved. 
 
 "Good heavens, no!" Nathan ejaculated in some perturba 
 tion, "but can t I" 
 
 "No, you can t you can t do anything for her," said the 
 doctor, emphatically. "The more you do for her, the more 
 rumpus you make over her, the worse it is for the girl. The 
 world s judgments are hard " said the doctor, with a per 
 plexed smile "but the world s a deal older than you and I, 
 and in the long run I don t know but that its judgments are 
 pretty near correct." 
 
 "It may be so," said Nat, gloomily, "but nothing I can do 
 now can make her case any worse than it is already. I ve 
 got to find her, if she s to be found. I ve searched high and 
 low more people knew about it than I supposed, but no 
 body has seen her. I even went to the Lauterbachs they 
 are kind people, they might have taken her in but they 
 
248 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 hadn t seen or heard anything of her. I thought I d go out 
 to Governor Gwynne s and inquire. Some of the servants 
 might have kept track of her. You know the governor, 
 don t you, Jack ? I d like you to go with me, if you could 
 take the time. It wouldn t damn poor Nance irrevocably 
 to have two men looking for her, would it ? There s safety 
 in numbers." 
 
 This speech was received in another silence so marked that 
 it roused Burke s attention; he caught a swift glance passed 
 between Jim and his mother, and, looking at the doctor, per 
 ceived an abrupt harshness or sternness replacing his ordinary 
 genial expression. 
 
 "I I don t think it would do any particular good for 
 you to have me along," Vardaman said at last with an effort. 
 
 "I ll go with you, Mr. Burke, I ll go; I know Mrs. David 
 Gwynne," said Mrs. Sharpless, hurriedly; "I m sure I d be 
 glad for you to find what s her name ? Nance ? I d be 
 ever so glad if you could find her. I d like to help you." 
 
 They made this visit to the governor s house which 
 was at an unconscionable distance from town with a grove of 
 trees and a park of its own, in a species of lofty and handsome 
 seclusion in a carriage which Nat got of our acquaintance 
 the livery-stable man ; and for which, by the way, that gentle 
 man refused a cent of hire, as soon as he heard that it was 
 meant for Mrs. Sharpless s use. " You tell that little lady that 
 she s welcome to the best I ve got any time she wants it," he 
 said gallantly; "she s a mighty sweet little lady pretty 
 eyes, ain t she ? " he further remarked with quite a sentimental 
 sigh. "You just tell her she can have anything I ve got any 
 time she feels like it the parson can preach it out at my 
 funeral, I guess, if he lasts that long," he finished with a 
 grin. Burke regaled him with segars and a glass of something 
 hot at the Erin-go-Bragh (what would Mrs. Sharpless have 
 said if she had known that f) as a slight return for this courtesy 
 and rehearsed the incident to Jim afterwards, consumed 
 with laughter, notwithstanding the seriousness of the mo 
 ment. "Why, what a dreadful little heart-smasher Ma is!" 
 said Jim, in pretended horror; "goodness, it s immoral! I m 
 afraid Mary gets her abilities by direct inheritance." 
 
 "I don t see why you persist in saying things like that 
 
SUNDRY SOCIAL EXPERIENCES 249 
 
 about Ma about your sister," said Burke, resentfully; "she 
 can t help being being attractive she s not to blame if 
 the men if they hang around her. She why she 
 the men can t help it either." 
 
 Jim looked up surprised at the other s warmth. "Why, 
 I m not saying anything against Mary, Nat," he expostu 
 lated reasonably; "lots of girls are flirts why shouldn t 
 they be ? They haven t got anything else to do. It doesn t 
 do any harm. You seem to think it something disgraceful." 
 
 "It might break some poor fellow s heart," said Nat, 
 coloring as he gave utterance to this sentimental theory, but 
 sticking to it manfully, " lead a man on, and let him hope all 
 sorts of things, and then throw him over at the last! If I 
 had a sister, I wouldn t think or say that she d do a thing 
 like that." 
 
 "Pooh!" retorted the other, good-naturedly cynical, "it s 
 not very often so serious as that. Men may die and worms 
 may eat them but not for love, you know. You must 
 have been reading some of these infernal mush-and-milk 
 stories in the magazines Graham s or Godey s. By 
 George, I ve got so I never read any of em any more, unless 
 they re by that fellow, that Poe E. A. Poe, you know 
 the one that writes the curdlers. I met a man once that 
 knew him," said Jim, not without reverence, "a fellow that 
 was out here writing for the Cincinnati Gazette. He says 
 Poe drinks like a fish. But drunk or sober, he s a writer. As 
 for your broken-heart business, Nat, you may trust me there 
 aren t many of em outside of the novels. I know one man 
 but then," Jim pursued thoughtfully, "it s not quite the same 
 thing with him. He and the girl had a fuss, and now she s 
 going to marry somebody else, and I don t think he ll ever 
 marry. He d laugh at the notion of his heart being broken 
 but he ll never get over it, just the same." 
 
 On their way out to the governor s, Mrs. Sharpless, who, 
 it was obvious even to Burke s masculine senses, had on her 
 best black silk and her bonnet with the thread lace veil, and 
 was in a little state of tremor and excitement, confided to 
 him that she was afraid they were making their visit at a 
 most inopportune season. "You know Louise is going to be 
 married, Mr. Burke. She s going to marry Mr. Andrews 
 Leonard Andrews, not Charlie Leonard is the wealthy 
 
250 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 one, you know; that is, he ll have money, old Mr. Edward 
 Andrews s son. Charlie hasn t got anything, and then he has 
 to take care of his mother and sister " 
 
 "I know," said Burke, absently, "I see a good deal of both 
 of them. Leonard s in the bank, and Charlie s with Lathrop s 
 commission-house right next door to us." 
 
 " Yes. Well, it s Leonard that s to marry Louise Gwynne, 
 you know. The house will be all torn up. Bishop Mcll- 
 vaine s going to marry them, and it s to be a home wed- 
 ding- 
 
 "Well, ours is only a business visit, and they re not to have 
 the wedding till to-morrow, are they? They surely won t 
 be inconvenienced the little time I ll take. I only want to 
 ask the servants a few questions," said Burke, staring out at 
 the doleful winter landscape, and wondering dejectedly where 
 in that waste of melting snow and slush, dreary streets, 
 tumbledown shanties, and sodden fields they were trun 
 dling slowly through the outskirts of the town Nance 
 might be hiding herself. A thaw was setting in with thin 
 persistent rain and a spiteful wind. The roads were ankle- 
 deep in semiliquid mud; the sky hung low and looked like 
 dirty white cotton. Just ahead a covered van laden with 
 chairs and tables and crates of crockery was stalled in the 
 heavy going, and the men in charge had got down and were 
 cursing and bawling and heaving at the wheels and the horses 
 were straining on the yoke. According to the weather, Miss 
 Gwynne s wedding was an ill-omened venture. 
 
 "Those things must be meant for the Gwynne house," said 
 Mrs. Sharpless, alertly; "mercy, what a time they re having ! 
 It will be awful for all of us driving out to the wedding, won t 
 it ? Such a pity ! Mrs. Lucien Gwynne is going to stop for 
 us, and take Mary and me out in her carriage we re lucky, 
 aren t we ? It s on Mary s account, of course," said Mrs. 
 Sharpless, smoothing her gloves with that little self-effacing 
 air of pride and content common to mothers; "Mary s 
 going to play the wedding-march for them when they 
 come in, you know. I believe Mrs. Gwynne wanted to have 
 fiddles and a harp those men that play for all the big 
 dances, you know, and the subscription-balls but Louise 
 said she wouldn t have anybody but Mary Sharpless. 
 They ve always been friends." 
 
SUNDRY SOCIAL EXPERIENCES 251 
 
 "Miss Mary plays beautifully," said Burke, interested at 
 once; "I should think they d be proud to have her." 
 
 " Yes of course / think so. She won t play for the danc 
 ing afterwards, though, Mr. Burke," said Mrs. Sharpless, 
 hastily; " they ve hired the men for that." 
 
 "It s a shame she has to play at all it s a shame for her 
 to have to work, anyhow," growled the young man, whole 
 heartedly. 
 
 "Why, she don t have to, Mr. Burke," said Mrs. Sharpless, 
 with a startled look. "What made you think that?" And 
 she explained that Mary only did it for "extras and a little 
 pocket-money." The intelligence surprised Mr. Burke not 
 a little, as he had somehow got the idea that the daily bread 
 of the Sharpless family depended almost entirely on Mary s 
 exertions. The young lady could not have told him so her 
 self; certainly Jim never had; it must have been Nat s 
 own dull guesswork. 
 
 "So funny, Leonard Andrews is so musical, and used to 
 come to our house so much to sing with Mary and hear her 
 play. And here he s going to marry Louise Gwynne and she 
 hasn t any more voice than a crow, and doesn t know one 
 tune from the next! So funny the way people marry, isn t 
 it?" said the mother, pensively. "Louise is considered very 
 pretty in spite of that fiery red hair and I don t think 
 that s such a blemish," she added with a heroic generosity. 
 "She was engaged to Jack Vardaman for a while, but she 
 broke it off." 
 
 "Oh!" said Nat, suddenly illuminated. 
 
 "Yes. I saw you didn t know about it. Poor Jack! 
 Maybe it s better so, though marriage is such a lottery," 
 said Mrs. Sharpless, unable, kind and sweet woman as she 
 was, entirely to suppress her lurking conviction that maybe 
 Dr. Vardaman might have drawn a blank. Burke listened, 
 momentarily forgetting his errand, with a feeling oddly 
 compounded of relief and anxiety. He was outside the 
 bright little social world in which Mary revolved; a dozen 
 young men might be laying siege to her, and he would be 
 obliged to stand by helpless in his pride and poverty. Yet 
 surely she looked at him kindly sometimes. He wondered, 
 in his adoring admiration, what miracle had kept her single 
 thus far yet what man could be good enough for her ? Nat 
 
252 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 humbly allowed that he himself was not; if he had had money 
 and talents and everything the world values to lay at her feet, 
 he would still be unworthy of her, the young fellow thought. 
 This humility did not prevent his hearing with a throb of 
 satisfaction that that overdressed dandy, Leonard Andrews, 
 with his voice and his musical tastes, forsooth, could not win 
 her. Andrews was really a good-looking and amiable young 
 man, and Nat had not thought of him with enmity before; 
 but even in defeat the fact that poor Leonard had possibly 
 been one of the candidates filled Burke with a kind of trium 
 phant dislike. 
 
 The ex-governor s residence, which was a great, dignified, 
 imposing place, with huge pillars and high ceilings and very 
 rich furnishings in the fashion of the day, was "torn up" to a 
 degree that threw Mrs. Sharpless into a feminine ecstasy. 
 Men were erecting a tunnel of awning over the front steps; 
 there were step-ladders and chairs everywhere; and a rather 
 pretty little girl red-haired, too whom Mrs. Sharpless 
 called Harriet, and who, I think, was the governor s youngest 
 child, came running to the door, very happy, important, and 
 excited, and led the visitors in, chattering meanwhile in her 
 high childish voice. She didn t know whether they could see 
 Aunt Marian everything was so torn up, and they were all 
 so busy, but Papa was upstairs in the study and oh, Mrs. 
 Sharpless, just look what the men were doing to our parlors! 
 They were, in fact, spreading down acres of floor-cloth and 
 others were marking out upon it with red chalk certain mystic 
 characters which, Mrs. Sharpless informed Nat delightedly, 
 were "the figures for the wedding-quadrille, you know, 
 Mr. Burke; the bride s quadrille, when the bridal party open 
 the ball." They eyed them respectfully. An artist in a 
 square white cap was devising the most extraordinary edible 
 monuments for table decorations, in a big pantry opening 
 into the dining room pyramids of oranges divided into 
 their sections and each section crystallized in a sort of sugar 
 frost with a shimmering web of clear, golden, floss-like spun 
 candy piled in a cone-shape over all. "The table s going to 
 be elegant, isn t it?" breathed Mrs. Sharpless, entranced 
 before this masterpiece. "Are there going to be two of those 
 beehives ?" 
 
 "That ain t anything," shrilled little Harriet, excitedly, 
 
SUNDRY SOCIAL EXPERIENCES 253 
 
 hopping on one foot; "you ought to see the ice-cream moulds; 
 I ve seen em. They re going to have two turtle-doves with 
 their beaks together sitting on a platter, and a boat, a big, 
 big boat all out of ice-cream in a dish with waves all round it, 
 and the waves are wine jelly underneath and whipped cream 
 on top, ain t they ? She appealed to the caterer, who nodded, 
 grinning. "And there s chicken salad and tongue and ham 
 and sandwiches and and coffee and cake and oh, her 
 cake is all white with flowers and hearts on it, and his has 
 got laurel-leaves, and we re all going to have a piece to sleep 
 on!" 
 
 Mrs. G wynne, a plump, worried little woman in a figured 
 cashmere morning-gown and large jet ear-rings, with her 
 lace cap awry and a shawl shrugged about her shoulders, 
 came shivering in from the side-porch, where she had been 
 giving some order, and stared when she saw them. She 
 stared harder when Burke was presented and his errand ex 
 plained, which Mrs. Sharpless did nra manner that suggested, 
 "Well, I know he s a perfect nuisance, but I couldn t help it. 
 And after all the poor fellow means well. He s nothing but a 
 man, you know." 
 
 "Oh, yes, I remember the young woman but really I 
 don t know anything about her, Mr. ah I don t know 
 where she went from here, I haven t had time to to bother, 
 you know it s very unfortunate, of course," said Mrs. 
 Gwynne, with her eyes everywhere except on Nathan. 
 "Harriet, run and tell them they are not to undo that china 
 on the porch, it makes so much muss; that will be the fifth 
 time to-day I ve had it swept. Of course, you can ask the 
 other servants ; they may know something. Mrs. Ducey s 
 letter gave me to understand oh, be careful, please, you ll 
 knock into the chandelier and, of course, you know, Mr. 
 ah after what she said, I hadn t really any choice, I simply 
 had to dismiss oh, mercy, I don t want the piano in that 
 comer excuse me a minute, please, Mr. ah - I told 
 you distinctly I wanted it in this corner. There wouldn t 
 be any room for Mary to sit down, if they ran it back that far, 
 would there, Mrs. Sharpless?" 
 
 "Why, I don t know," said the other lady, following Mrs. 
 Gwynne into the drawing-room whither she had dashed, and 
 calculating with her head on one side. "Yes, there might 
 
254 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 be only her hoop, you know, they take up so much 
 room 
 
 "There s to be a screen around it, so nobody ll see her 
 playing still it wouldn t do for her to be too squeezed 
 up-" 
 
 They remained in consultation, while two able-bodied 
 gentlemen in shirt-sleeves, breathing deep and anon wiping 
 their two several brows with two Isabella-colored handker 
 chiefs, wheeled the piano backwards and forwards according 
 to instructions. Burke, stranded in the dining room, felt 
 himself with some impatience utterly forgotten in this petti 
 coat world. He waylaid a passing maid-servant and was 
 proceeding to his inquiries when the young woman interrupted 
 him she really didn t know she d tell Mr. Gwynne 
 he wanted to see Mr. Gwynne, didn t he? If he d just wait a 
 minute she had to unpack them plates and tumblers 
 she, too, was gone, and Mr. Burke was beginning to wonder 
 desperately if he had not better canvass the kitchen and rear 
 premises without leave or warrant, when the master of the 
 house appeared. 
 
 To Nat s huge surprise, Gwynne (who himself wore rather 
 a neglected and, as it were, second-rate look, and it presently 
 appeared, had come downstairs in search of coal for his fire, 
 which everybody had forgotten !) remembered him, and shook 
 hands, calling him by name, and referring to their previous 
 meeting with labored geniality; and heard Burke s apologies 
 and explanations with an effort, at least, to seem interested. 
 It is likely that the old gentleman, like Nathan himself, felt a 
 certain comfort in the transient company of another male 
 being ; there was a humor in the situation not wholly lost 
 on the governor, although he was by no means of a humorous 
 turn. The Honorable Samuel Gwynne was ordinarily a 
 chilly, dignified, impersonal sort of man, whose unfortunate 
 manner, people said, had militated strongly against his po 
 litical success. He was never popular, though nobody could 
 have made more conscientious or painful attempts at all the 
 arts of popularity. Even young Burke, who came to know 
 him well in later years, and to appreciate all the governor s 
 sterling and manly qualities, used to wonder with a kind of 
 puzzled pity at his perfunctory suavity. 
 
 "I feel that this is a gross intrusion," the young fellow 
 
SUNDRY SOCIAL EXPERIENCES 255 
 
 explained, "but you understand in the circumstances it is 
 imperative for me to find out whatever I can at once, without 
 losing any more time 
 
 " Certainly, Mr. Burke, certainly," said Gwynne, with a 
 strained heartiness, "Fll have all the servants in. You can 
 question them at your leisure there is really no need for 
 all this confusion, but the ladies " he waved his hand. 
 And the cook and sundry others some half-dozen in all 
 being forthwith summoned, the examination began. 
 
 Burke had not had much hope of it; one of the maids was 
 newly come and knew nothing about what had happened. 
 The cook, who was an elderly woman, quite tigerishly respect 
 able and of unimpeachable manners, really never had had 
 any opinion of the Darnell girl, and she wasn t at all surprised 
 the way things had turned out, for she had said to a friend 
 right at the very start, "You mark my words, Maria, that 
 Nance young woman will bear watching. That sort s too 
 pretty for their own good." Hadn t she said that, Nora? 
 Didn t you hear her say that to Maria ? It was the day they 
 were making the mince-meat, she remembered just as well, 
 saying to Maria, You mark my words, there s something 
 wrong with that Darnell girl. And if the young gentleman 
 didn t mind her saying it, seeing she was old enough to be his 
 mother, it s very easy for a girl a pretty girl to take in 
 any young man ! Only one of them, a slip of a girl in her 
 teens whom they called Hannah, and who had a kind, homely 
 face, burst out crying with her honest, soapy red fists in her 
 eyes, and said she liked Nance, she did ! And she didn t 
 believe Nance had never stole nothing, she didn t! And 
 Nance hadn t said where she was going because, Land ! the 
 poor thing didn t know. But she, Hannah, had told her to 
 try for a place in a boarding-house. "They ain t as per- 
 tickler as ladies, you know, sir, because it s hard for em to 
 get any help at all for a boarding-house, on count of the 
 work," said the youngster, with a nai ve shrewdness. 
 
 And this was all. No, not quite all, for Burke s ill-timed 
 visit to Governor Gwynne s had another result which ever 
 afterward appeared to Nat as the final stroke of irony with 
 which the Fate, whose province it was to direct his affairs, 
 dismissed this mean tragedy of Nance Darnell. 
 
 "Will you have a drink, Mr. Burke?" said the governor, 
 
256 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 after the inquiry was finished. "Marian, you and Mrs. 
 Sharpless had better take a little Madeira, hadn t you ? Sir, 
 you handled your ah your witnesses, as I may call them, 
 with quite a court-room manner. You have the right idea. 
 Never bully a witness; engage his confidence and you ll get 
 infinitely better results that has been my experience. 
 Help yourself, sir," said Gwynne, affably, and poured out, for 
 his own part, the weakest mixture imaginable, which he sipped 
 slowly and with no particular gusto. Old Mr. Marsh told 
 Nat afterwards that Gwynne disliked whiskey, and had been 
 obliged to cultivate conviviality like one of the fine arts. 
 "You ah you are studying law, I understand, Mr. 
 Burke?" 
 
 The young man colored and stammered as he said yes, 
 and answered the governor s leading questions at large; he 
 was highly flattered by the old politician s notice, whether it 
 was prompted by genuine interest or not; and blushed after 
 wards when he remembered how freely he talked about him 
 self and his work. 
 
 "I heard so from my nephew Gilbert, whom I have with 
 me in the office, as I have no doubt you know. He tells me 
 he has met you several times at the Court-house," the gov 
 ernor continued with that civility, which, try as he would, 
 was entirely devoid of warmth. 
 
 "Oh, yes, I know Mr. Gilbert Gwynne," said Burke, won 
 dering privately if it would have been possible to have lived 
 a day in our city and not known some member of the Gwynne 
 family. The connection was very large, and every one of 
 them abode more or less in the shadow of the govern 
 or s wing. 
 
 " Yes. What you say about your private studies interests 
 me greatly, Mr. Burke it reminds me of my own young 
 days. My youth was er without many advantages," 
 said the governor, sipping his weak punch in a modest way; 
 "as I look back now, I may truthfully say I am glad of 
 it " and he added some handsome phrases about "Repub 
 lican simplicity," "the dignity of toil," and "the delights of 
 difficult, honorable achievement," which, Burke thought, 
 bore a striking resemblance to the peroration of the governor s 
 speech in support of Harrison during the last campaign. 
 Gwynne s own large family of boys were growing up a reck- 
 
SUNDRY SOCIAL EXPERIENCES 257 
 
 less, untamable set, who never showed the least desire to work, 
 and of whom everybody prophesied an evil end. "It would 
 give me sincere pleasure to be of assistance to you, Mr. Burke. 
 If opportunity occurs, I hope you will remember that I am 
 always more than pleased to have any earnest young man read 
 in my office, and to give him the benefit of my long acquaint 
 ance with the theory and practice of law. I am an older 
 soldier, sir, not a better. Ingenuas didicisse I dare say 
 you can supply the rest," said Governor Gwynne, very ele 
 gantly. And the carriage was called, and we drove away. 
 
 And this was the sole and most unlooked-for outcome of 
 Nathan s search! For if it had not been for poor Nance s 
 misfortunes, misfortunes which, right or wrong, Burke 
 always laid in part at his own door, he never would have 
 gone to Governor Gwynne s, never have met that statesman 
 in this domestic intimacy and familiarity, never have been 
 offered a place in Gwynne s office, a corner of his aegis. I 
 dare say Mr. Burke could have got along tolerably well with 
 out, and cut just as notable a figure in the world. He rested 
 content not to aim very high, but to hit where he aimed; and 
 no doubt these events which seemed to him so momentous 
 were trivial enough after all hardly worth recording even 
 for his devoted grandchildren, who will feel it a pious duty to 
 read through all the old fellow s prattle. Yet every man s 
 life is made up of these infinite smallnesses, and where would 
 the sea be, pray tell, but for the multitudinous drops of water ? 
 
CHAPTER XIX 
 IN WHICH THE BAR RECEIVES A NOTABLE ADDITION 
 
 NOWADAYS I feel a shock of surprise, a kind of feeble 
 wonder, when 1 1 remember how great and despotic was the 
 part played by Time and Distance upon this planet when 
 Nathan Burke was young. Men s means of getting about 
 were no better than they had been in the Dark Ages ; it was 
 ten years before that beneficent instrument, Morse s tele 
 graph, clicked its first message for us; the roads, for the first 
 two months of the year, were in such a state that Legislature 
 and the circuit courts never sat during that time, it being 
 impossible to reach the capitol, or anywhere else; we had to 
 pay to take our letters out of the post-office, and used to send 
 them privately by any friend whom we could suborn. Sena 
 tors and Congressmen got theirs through under a " frank," 
 and lucky was the man who knew one of these law-givers. 
 When, as not infrequently happens, I hear some member of 
 my lessening staff of contemporaries lamenting the good old 
 times, I mildly recall these drawbacks to his mind. And Jim 
 Sharpless is in the habit of remarking that the only good 
 thing about * the good old times (in his observation) is 
 the indisputable fact that deer-meat was only seven cents a 
 pound ! 
 
 But, taking these things into consideration, it is not sur 
 prising that every effort Nathan made to find the poor girl 
 he had promised his old friend to protect and care for, failed; 
 the search had begun too late. The young man spared no 
 trouble in his unavailing anxiety and regret. He informed 
 the police ; he put with an intolerable shrinking a little 
 notice in the corner of the paper, the Journal, which came 
 out only once a week during this slack season, although it 
 was a tri-weekly and even a daily whenever the Legislature 
 was sitting or anything of importance was going on; he 
 pried into all sorts of likely and unlikely places, followed up 
 two or three false clews, sought amongst the dregs with less 
 
 258 
 
THE BAR RECEIVES A NOTABLE ADDITION 259 
 
 desire to find her than unspeakable relief at not finding her; 
 and at last went one day with a stricken heart to view a body 
 which had been hauled out of the Scioto a mile or so below 
 town and conveyed to the coroner s. "Th ice has kep her 
 real good," one of the officials informed him; "you kin 
 reckonize her easy her features is all there. They fished 
 her out she d floated to th top, of course at a bend, 
 y know, where they s a kinder back-water that swep her 
 up agin th shore. She s got on a blue waist did your girl 
 have on a blue waist ?" 
 
 "I don t know," groaned Nat, in a choking apprehension. 
 But it was not Nance; the poor creature in the blue waist 
 was a much older woman, with gray hair clinging to her 
 awful discolored temples; and they buried her, next day or 
 so, in potter s field. 
 
 It would be claiming too much to say that this sad thing 
 shadowed Burke s spirits permanently, or even for a very 
 long while. There is no sorrow, no suffering, no calamity in 
 Life s bestowal which we cannot bear tolerantly, and to which 
 we cannot, by some hook or crook, adjust ourselves. If you 
 and I were forever to be dwelling on our losses and failures, 
 on death and disappointment, this world would be a dull and 
 doleful place. We may as well make up our minds to it, no 
 action is long regretted and nobody is much missed. Les 
 morts vont vite ! It s well they should; it s well we should have 
 our grief and dismiss it, and go about our business of living as 
 best we can. Come, let us be plain; I have lived awhile, 
 and setting aside young children, I have yet to know the 
 person whose return after half-a-dozen years or months ! 
 of death, would not occasion a great deal of inconvenience, 
 and even some scandal. Why should it not be so ? We must 
 live, we must scratch along somehow, and it s no sin to forget. 
 Nat was young; he had his way to make; he was not of a 
 despondent, brooding, or impressionable nature. He had, I 
 think, a good heart, and was steadfast in his friendships and 
 beliefs; and if he had done wrong, he tried his best to repair 
 it. But, finding that it could not apparently be repaired, 
 perhaps the young man is not to be blamed for finally ceasing 
 to think about it. All this while he was diligent at his daily 
 work, and, as usual, did not take many people into his confi 
 dence. Nobody wanted to know his troubles, he used to 
 
260 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 think, with a kind of laugh; they were too busy telling him 
 their own. And it was only to Sharpless and old Mr. Marsh 
 that he rehearsed Governor Gwynne s unprecedented offer. 
 
 "I can t think why he did it," he told the old dictator at 
 the store, openly; "he didn t need to the least in the world. 
 I ve always understood he was very kind to young men just 
 starting out in the law but I didn t suppose he d be that 
 kind. I think perhaps he just felt rather kindly towards 
 everybody about that time what with this wedding and 
 all and worked off a little of the good feeling on me. Prob 
 ably he d have done the same for anybody that came along, 
 so there s no need for me to get cocky about it, I guess. I 
 don t want to presume on it; I was a little uncertain whether 
 I d better take him up, or not (it would be a big thing for me, 
 you know, to study in his office, I I d like to mighty well), 
 but I met Gilbert Gwynne the other day, and he spoke about 
 my coming there. So I m going up every day now at the 
 noon hour, or in the evening, or any spare time I happen to 
 have. There s a couple of other men in the office Archer 
 Lewis, and that cousin of the governor s, Steven Gwynne, 
 the one that s a little queer, you know, and Gilbert and my 
 self. I find I m about as far along as the rest in some ways 
 and a little behind em in others, and I ve wasted a lot of time 
 studying things that won t ever do me much good I didn t 
 know, you see. But I guess any sort of study is good for 
 one. The governor s very pleasant to all of us; he doesn t 
 come down every day. I ve only seen him once or twice 
 since I ve been going. Gilbert says he thinks his uncle means 
 to relinquish the practice gradually, but he s always been a 
 worker and he hates to let go altogether." 
 
 " Huh, that ain t all there is of it, " said Marsh, acutely; 
 "I know Gwynne pretty well I ve known him for twenty- 
 five years. He don t give a damn for the law-practice now 
 he s made his money. He just holds on because he can t bear 
 to give up and set back out of the public eye, as you might 
 say. He knows if he retired from practice, and left the 
 office and kind of settled down out at that big place of his, 
 why, he d be forgotten in three shakes of a cow s tail. There 
 ain t anything to it for him but to sit around where people 
 can t fail to see him. He talks about being l out of politics 
 all bluff! He s just as keen as ever after notice and 
 
THE BAR RECEIVES A NOTABLE ADDITION 261 
 
 popularity; there ain t hardly any kind of nomination, ex 
 cept for Police Judge, that Sam Gwynne wouldn t take. I 
 ain t running him down, you know. He s a smart man and 
 a good lawyer, and as honest as the run of politicians, I 
 guess. But, Nathan " said the sage, giving his compan 
 ion a sharp glance out of eyes which seemed to have grown 
 smaller and more deeply bedded in wrinkles than ever of late 
 years "Sam G Wynne s a disappointed man. He s never 
 got to where he wanted to." 
 
 "Why, he s been governor of this State twice two 
 terms!" interposed the other. Old George put that fact 
 aside with a slighting gesture. 
 
 "Yes, I know but he d have liked to work up a little 
 higher, and he s never quite been able to. People might 
 trust him, but, by damn, they don t like him enough. He 
 hasn t given up hope yet; he s always making some move 
 for popularity. But he s a cold man; people can see it s 
 all put on with him. To be sure it s all put on with the rest 
 of em kissing the babies, and shaking hands with the 
 boys, and borrowing Pa s pipe for a smoke, and telling 
 the woman he never ate such stew and dumplings but 
 Gywnne can t act it well. He pumps it up and they know 
 it. He d do better not to try so hard." 
 
 Burke listened with an odd discomfiture. In spite of all 
 his fine disclaimers, and in spite, too, of that very artificiality 
 in Governor Gwynne s manner which Nat himself had de 
 tected, the youth had cherished a secret belief that some 
 thing noteworthy about him had drawn the governor s eye. 
 It was not very agreeable to be informed in cold blood that 
 he was after all nothing but a pawn on the board, that to 
 "clinch the young men s vote," and never let slip a chance 
 to get " hand-in-glove with everybody, no matter how insig 
 nificant" (I quote Mr. Marsh) was a recognized manoeuvre 
 in the game. Nat had to smile at his own conceit. It is 
 so hard for an honest man to be honest with himself, I think 
 we should take more pity on the rogues. When I announce 
 that I know I m not handsome, why, damme, sir, it s your 
 business to demur. What d ye mean by acquiescing with that 
 cheerful grin ? I d just as lief confess that I m not clever, 
 but you tell me so, and I ll have some ado not to knock you 
 down! 
 
262 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 "Gywnne worked pretty hard this last campaign, for a 
 man of his age," said Marsh (who was at least ten years 
 older); "and he had a right to expect something. He d 
 have got something, too, I haven t any doubt; but here 
 within a month after the inauguration Harrison dies and 
 Tyler comes in, and that knocks Gywnne s chances natter 
 than a busted balloon. He s not a personal friend of Tyler s, 
 like he was of Harrison, and he can t bring any pressure to 
 bear on him. Hard lines, ain t it?" concluded the old man 
 with a sort of cynical sympathy. Was there a creature on 
 earth in whom George Marsh believed ? What kind of a 
 world must that be, Burke wondered, in which Marsh passed 
 his niggling, huckstering, striving, doubling, planning exist 
 ence ? Friends, home, a wife and children, were left out of 
 it; trust and affection were left out of it; he might have had 
 these, yet not been happy, and in fairness it ought to be 
 said that he never seemed unhappy. We are so fond of 
 that splendid moral spectacle of Dives sitting lonely and 
 friendless and bitter-hearted at his great rich table, and 
 Lazarus humbly happy over his porridge with a wife and 
 seven children, not a penny in his ragged pockets, but con 
 tent in his soul I say we are so fond of drawing this pious 
 contrast that we are liable to overlook the fact that the shoe 
 is sometimes on the other foot. I should not be surprised 
 to find out that Lazarus is not infrequently a selfish, mean- 
 spirited, lazy, blatant cur enough; and Dives a hard-work 
 ing and generous old gentleman, notwithstanding the luxu 
 ries with which he has had the bad taste to surround himself. 
 
 " I wouldn t be in Gwynne s boots for a good deal," Nathan 
 said to his friend Sharpless afterwards; "he can t do anybody 
 a good turn without some one hinting he has an axe to grind. 
 It s sad; you d like to believe in him and people won t let you. 
 I never have felt any leaning towards a political career, and 
 now I feel less than ever." 
 
 "Oh, bosh! I believe he has taken a fancy to you, and 
 really likes to have you in the office. Take him at his face 
 value you don t lose anything by it," said Jim, warmly. 
 He had a stangh faith in Burke s winning gifts and per 
 sonality. 
 
 Jim was up and about now, and back at his queer, random, 
 nondescript work of journalism long before this, the sight of 
 
THE BAR RECEIVES A NOTABLE ADDITION 263 
 
 him in renewed health having been welcomed by his motley 
 crew of acquaintances with a fervor that both touched and 
 gratified; and these latter, under Jim s energetic leadership, 
 had been of no slight assistance to Burke in his inquiry. 
 Their quarters were a little lonesome without his mother s 
 kind and gracious presence. Mrs. Sharpless had gone back 
 to the parsonage. And Miss Mary Sharpless no longer 
 appeared of an afternoon, daintily picking her way along the 
 squalid cobblestones, lighting the dingy precincts like a star 
 (this is what Mr. Burke poetically fancied, but prudently 
 never said), passing through the rabble of livery-stable hands 
 and coarse suds-splashing women, and dreadful dirty little 
 rowdy boys, and flea-harassed dogs, and desperate slinking 
 cats, and weird, witch-like, scuttling hens passing through 
 untainted and serene like the Lady in Milton s poem, Burke 
 thought. Strangely enough, the neighbors, who had all be 
 come charitably or inquisitively interested in Jim s illness, 
 regarding his recovery or bleath equally as a Heaven-sent 
 sensation, paid very little attention to Mary s arrival or 
 departure in comparison to the sentiment which her mother 
 aroused. I am sure the livery-stable man would not have 
 loaned his carriage for Miss Sharpless. A child next door 
 named Mrs. Sharpless " the lady that makes the pretty little 
 walkings," by which it meant her small foot-prints through 
 the slush and mud, and used to get in her way, and hold to her 
 skirts, unrebuked, with sticky little paws, and howl dismally 
 when she passed out of sight. The youngster never did aught 
 but stare and pout at Mary, whose " walkings" were even 
 smaller and prettier than her mother s; the other children 
 made faces and ran away, rather to the young lady s relief, 
 I dare say. " They re so horribly dirty, poor little things !" 
 she explained to Nathan, drawing her delicate petticoats 
 aside. Mrs. Slaney sniffed lamentably the whole day Mrs. 
 Sharpless left, and the laundress across the street and the 
 charwoman who lived in two rooms over the laundress came 
 and drank tea and sniffed with her. They used to run after 
 Nat and stop him on the street to ask after Jim s mother. 
 Nobody ever inquired about Mary. "It s because she s 
 young and pretty the women can forgive each other any 
 thing but that," Burke said to himself, a trifle bitterly, re 
 viewing his recent experience with the sex. 
 
264 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 The fact that he himself could seldom see Mary now, and 
 that other men enjoyed that privilege being no more 
 worthy, by heavens, than Nat Burke ! and might be tak 
 ing advantage of it to make all kinds of love to her, occa 
 sionally produced in the young gentleman moods of terrific 
 cynicism and melancholy, when he was dark, gloomy, and 
 sarcastic to a degree that filled his fellow-clerks and students 
 with wonder and suspicion. Fortunately he had too much 
 to do and was too heartily interested in his work to be dream 
 ing of his lady-love all the time, no sane, healthy man 
 ever did that, no, nor even a fifth nor a tenth part of his 
 time, for that matter. And Burke had the weakest possible 
 foundation for dreams anyhow. He had never held Mary s 
 hand a second longer or with a shade closer pressure than 
 civility regulates nor uttered a word other than the most 
 diluted generalities on the subject nearest his heart. He 
 could not help looking at her, watching her was she 
 aware of it ? The glance of her gray eyes under those be 
 wildering long black lashes brought the blood to the young 
 fellow s face, set his heart thumping like a trip-hammer 
 did Ma,ry know that? The faint shell-pink in her cheeks 
 never changed; unquestionably her heart beat no faster 
 than any well-behaved girl s should. Her slim hands never 
 faltered on the piano-keys and there was that donkey 
 of a Nathan clumsily turning the music for her all in the 
 wrong places, no doubt, which she bore with an angelic pa 
 tience in such a fluster as he bent over her neatly woven 
 black braids that be could scarcely breathe ! She sang for 
 him in her sweet, fluty voice, with all sorts of quavers and 
 grace-notes, those self-same insipid, sentimental, mawkish 
 ditties which Nat had heard performed by various belles 
 in Mrs. Ducey s parlor which he had heard and abhorred. 
 There he sat, the simpleton, and listened entranced. Did 
 Mary know that she had fascinated him, and did she en 
 courage him ? Who am I that I should fathom these mys 
 teries ? And if she had, would it have been any great harm ? 
 
 But these delightful times were all over and done with 
 now, since the ladies had no longer any occasion to visit Jim, 
 and the Reverend Mr. Sharpless s embargo was revived and 
 active. The flinty old man persevered in his self-appointed 
 way; there was something inconceivably childish, incon- 
 
THE BAR RECEIVES A NOTABLE ADDITION 265 
 
 ceivably deliberate and mature about it. He passed his 
 son in the street, looking him full in the face for he would 
 stoop to no tricks, and scorned to make pretences without 
 sign of recognition. "How do you do, Mr. Burke ?" he said 
 in his rotund, oratorical voice, and went on, erect and stern. 
 Jim looked after him, both distress and amusement in his 
 expression. "He suffers for that, Nathan," he said as they 
 walked away; "and am I helped by it ? Not at all. Father 
 is trying to be consistent, at any rate; he s doing now what 
 he ll have to do through all eternity, according to his creed. 
 The blessed can t take any notice of the damned, can they ? 
 It would be uncomfortable and dispiriting and likely to get 
 on one s nerves to see an acquaintance toasting over a brisk 
 fire, stimulated by a handy imp or two, I should think. The 
 contradiction is that father expects to be happy eternally 
 doing the very thing that makes him unhappy here ! Have 
 you seen my mother or Mary lately?" 
 
 "Why, no I I don t go there, you know," said Nat, 
 a little confused. The truth was he had taken it for granted 
 that he was outside the pale with Jim himself; and gone 
 back uncomplainingly to his previous devices of lingering 
 about in the back of church, altering his course to pass the 
 Sharpless home, and keeping a watch for Mary on the street. 
 He always got a smile and nod from her now; quite often 
 she would stop and speak to him. The conversation was 
 invariably directed upon Jim or her mother, or the weather, 
 or something equally impersonal, to be sure but upon 
 Mary s lips the simple statement that two and two make 
 four would have possessed an indefinable charm for Burke. 
 
 "Why not?" Jim asked him. "I wish you would some 
 times just to keep me in closer touch with them. John 
 Vardaman goes once in a while; but of course he s pretty 
 busy with his practice, and then John doesn t seem to care 
 much about going to see girls any more. I don t know 
 whether he ll ever get over that other business mother 
 told you, didn t she? Jack s a good fellow I wish he 
 would marry Mary," said Jim, in a tone that moved Burke 
 to ask in a painstakingly firm and clear voice if there had 
 been any talk of such a match? 
 
 "Yes, a little. Not in the family, you know. Neither 
 one of em has ever said anything, and I m sure John s never 
 
266 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 asked her but people will talk around one can t help 
 hearing gossip. I d be glad of it not because John has 
 independent means, you know - 
 
 "As if I thought that!" 
 
 "Well, Nat, it s not such a bad thing, as the world goes," 
 said Jim, surprised at the other s vehemence; "somehow 
 I think Mary would be likely to fall in love with some fellow 
 that had money. Mary s got her feelings pretty well under 
 control. She s not mercenary, of course, but why, a 
 man with money generally has the best of it with girls. But 
 Jack Vardaman has a hundred good qualities to recommend 
 him, even if he hadn t a cent." 
 
 "Yes, he has!" said poor Nat, miserably. What chance 
 would he have with a man like Vardaman in the race ? He, 
 at least, would be a fit husband for her, Burke thought with 
 a sigh, a fine and kindly man, an educated, travelled, talented 
 gentleman. There was a vast difference between the doctor 
 and that good-looking popinjay of an Andrews who, any 
 how, was married right and tight and safely out of the way. 
 Mary had not wanted him with all his money, or expecta 
 tions, Nat said to himself with a glow of tender pride in 
 this vindication of her disinterestedness. Evidently Jim 
 did not understand, never would understand her, for all his 
 cleverness and his swift sympathy. Nathan tried to think 
 of Vardaman without jealousy; what more ought he to ask 
 than that Mary should be happy ? 
 
 Burke was somewhat surprised to discover that ex-Gov 
 ernor Gwynne s practice, which he had supposed was con 
 cerned only with large transactions and weighty people, em 
 braced, on the contrary, all sorts and conditions of men, and 
 every variety of legal business. No fish seemed to be too small 
 for that net which Gwynne was eternally spreading : democ 
 racy equality simplicity were his slogan; I have 
 seen him borrow a chew of tobacco (which he loathed) of an 
 humble constituent ; he would have worn hob-nail boots and 
 gone without his collar had that been agreeable to his ideas 
 of personal dignity and cleanliness. To Burke there was 
 something painful in this weakness of a strong man; in every 
 other act of his life the governor displayed a good mind, a 
 high character, unimpeachable honesty; but ambition, 
 
THE BAR RECEIVES A NOTABLE ADDITION 267 
 
 which makes some men heroes, made him only feeble and 
 sometimes a little ridiculous. In the office every one took 
 a hand at bolstering up this fictitious republicanism; the 
 man who wanted to replevin a drove of hogs was laboriously 
 made to feel as important and necessary as any member of 
 those deputations of capitalists who desired to take the legal 
 steps for incorporating this, bonding that, entering suit 
 against the other. These latter dignitaries, it is true, were 
 always ushered at once into the rear office, a handsomely 
 appointed room where the eminent counsel sat in elegant 
 retirement, very different from the free-and-easy quarters 
 of old George Marsh farther down the street. Whereas 
 the wronged proprietor of the hogs had to be content with 
 the outer office and the advice of Mr. Gilbert Gwynne 
 who, however, always laid the case before his uncle (so he 
 said) and secured the governor s carefully weighed opinion 
 before taking any kind of action. Gilbert was a conscientious 
 henchman. Once in a while the Honorable Samuel Gwynne 
 himself came forth and shook hands with the farmers 
 and drovers and inquired after their wives and families and 
 everybody in their neighborhood to the third and fourth 
 generation. These outer precincts were themselves well 
 supplied in a solid plain style with desks and arm-chairs and 
 glazed book-cases along the walls. Archer Lewis, 1 who was 
 a sprightly young man, about Burke s own age, of a quick, 
 bright mind and most genial temper, prosecuted his studies 
 with a fair amount of zeal at one of the desks; and Steven 
 Gwynne, a cousin or distant relative of the governor s, some 
 times occupied the other. He was a talkative, erratic sort 
 of fellow, good-looking, and rather dull in an extraordinary 
 fashion, not without humor and some kindliness, and a good 
 deal of harmless conceit. The young men, who already 
 knew Burke, welcomed him heartily; Gilbert Gywnne 
 examined him and directed his studies under the govern 
 or s explicit advice, as he did not fail to tell Nathan, who 
 reported some of these proceedings, grinning, to his inti 
 mates. Dr. Vardaman used to hail him on the street, 
 and inquire with a severe face how far he had progressed in 
 the " ingenuous arts" and whether Governor Gwynne had 
 
 1 Still living (1884) and my very good friend. N. B. 
 
268 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 succeeded in " mollifying his manners" yet. "You can 
 supply the rest of the quotation, of course," says Jack, pom 
 pously. And Nat, thinking of the farmers and drovers 
 with their rough boots and their red worsted comforters and 
 their big red knuckles and their plug-tobacco, had to laugh. 
 Indeed, these plain clients of the governor s rather affected 
 Mr. Burke s company; they liked him, albeit he never 
 chewed with them, nor asked after the wives and babies; 
 many of them remembered him from the old days, or from 
 his association with Mr. Marsh. When they happened 
 upon him at odd times and seasons in the Gwynne office, 
 they opened their troubles with an amazing freedom and 
 confidence; he could argue them into a better frame of mind 
 and an amicable settlement with a facility, patience, and 
 good-temper which attracted Gilbert Gwynne s favorable 
 notice, although, Heaven knows, it was no great feat nor was 
 Nat particularly gifted. He possessed the chance-bestowed 
 advantage of being one of these people by birth and inheri 
 tance, and of thoroughly understanding their point of view; 
 he could meet them on their own ground and speak their 
 shibboleth. He knew in intimate detail the whole of their 
 hard, simple lives, having so lived himself; all their desires, 
 standards, prejudices, loves, and hates he knew, fashioned his 
 discourse accordingly, and touched with them at a hundred 
 unconsidered points. Often they had that common remem 
 brance which is one of the most enduring of ties. " Ain t 
 you John Burke s son?" one middle-aged backwoodsman 
 asked him ; and for a moment this plaintiff he had some 
 grievance about a culvert and a right-of-way forgot his 
 cause, and they talked of the Scioto and the Olentanjy, and 
 the old Smoky-Row Road where he lived, and of John Burke 
 and Jake Darnell whom he had known, and of the young 
 mother whom Nathan himself could not remember. "Ye 
 favor yer pap some," said the other; "but I guess yeh take 
 after yer maw s fambly most. Yer maw she had real light 
 hair she was a Granger. Her folks come from Canady, 
 I ve heern tell. I reckon they was Refugees, wa n t they ? 
 They useter tell how th Gov ment give a place fer ter live 
 a right smart bit of land to every Britisher that moved 
 in here from Canady, er crost th lakes endurin th war 
 times. Twas a kinder indoocement, yeh might say, en a 
 
THE BAR RECEIVES A NOTABLE ADDITION 269 
 
 whole pilin lot of em come. That was why they called em 
 Refugees, V they called th land th Refugee Track. Least 
 ways I rec lect em tellin bout it when I was a boy. Pears 
 like th Track was located round here somewheres. How 
 was that, anyhow?" On being told that the city was built 
 upon part of this historic ground "I swanny, yeh don t 
 say!" he ejaculated in a sort of meditative surprise; "well, 
 then, it was true after all. I alluz kinder j edged it might be 
 one of these stories folks like to tell. Yeh ain t ben out ter 
 th country much recent, hev ye? Not in ten years, some 
 body was tellin me. Course, not havin any kin there, yeh 
 wouldn t be likely to." Burke, coloring, and a little ashamed, 
 had to admit it but it wasn t quite so long, between six 
 and seven years, that was all and of course he meant to 
 ride out to the Williamses and look everybody up sometime 
 soon, oh, very soon next summer, he guessed. And then 
 Governor Gwynne, having doubtless been notified by the 
 vigilant Gilbert, came out and greeted his client warmly, 
 and said some very kind and agreeable things about Burke 
 that made the young man redden again for pure pleasure 
 for, conceited or not, I believe for once the governor meant 
 them. 
 
 "Who were your people anyway, Burke?" young Lewis 
 asked him afterwards, not at all inquisitively, but with a 
 genuine interest. "Don t you know anything about em? 
 I was looking up a title the other day it was a piece of 
 property where the tannery is, you know, that James Hunt 
 & Sons bought of Mr. Marsh and it went back to a man 
 named Granger. By George, his name was Nathan, too, I 
 remember ! Was he a relative ? " 
 
 "Might have been you can t prove it by me," said Nat, 
 who, perhaps, had had sundry similar experiences in the 
 course of his legal labors; "Granger s not an uncommon 
 name, nor Burke either, for that matter. I ve never bothered 
 much about my family " and seeing the other look at 
 him a little curiously, he added, half-apologetic and half- 
 defiant: "I m not saying I don t care, you know. But I 
 well, I don t take the time to think about it. I m too busy." 
 
 "You re a self-made man, that s what you are, Nat," 
 said his friend, soberly. 
 
 There came a day at last, when, without any beating of 
 
270 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 cymbals or braying of trumpets, mighty as the event seemed 
 in his own eyes, Mr. Burke was admitted into that great 
 and noble Temple of Jurisprudence (as he had heard Gov 
 ernor Gwynne call it) in the outer porticos whereof he had so 
 long been laboring; and stood for the third and final time 
 in his life upon the threshold of a career. The United States 
 Court on circuit was in its spring session, and the court 
 (Judge Swan) appointed Mr. Mease Smith and Mr. Bur 
 roughs, whose names will be well remembered by the bar of 
 this State, to examine the candidate. Burke went with 
 these gentlemen (who were chatting together in a very light- 
 minded and unconcerned style, considering the solemnity of 
 the occasion) into a little room opening off the marshal s 
 office to the right of the door as you entered the old Court 
 house, which was still in use at this time. And having 
 managed to answer their questions in a tolerably clear 
 headed and concise manner, the clerk was called in and ac 
 cording to the informal fashion of that day, then and there, 
 during March term, A.D. 184, of the Supreme Court of the 
 State of Ohio, Nathan Burke, Esq., was certified and licensed 
 to practise as Attorney and Counsellor at Law and Solicitor 
 in Chancery in the Several Courts of this State "and may 
 the Lord have mercy on your soul!" said one of his judges, 
 in a hollow voice, observing, it may be, the gravity of the 
 young fellow s expression; and both gentlemen laughed aloud 
 and shook his hand and wished him success. 
 
 Nat went out and stood at the top of the Court-house 
 steps ; it was a bright and blowing day, and the face of Nature 
 being nowise changed, notwithstanding the recent event, 
 he took for a good omen this cheerful sky. Judge Burke 
 Attorney-general Burke Chief-justice Burke what 
 heights did he not scale in that triumphant moment ! As 
 he stood, Jim Sharpless and Vardaman came walking to 
 gether from the direction of the doctor s office, and, glanc 
 ing up, halted, struck, no doubt, by something in Burke s 
 air, for they had known he was going to present himself for 
 admittance shortly. 
 
 "What, Nathan ! Hail, Nathan ! " said the doctor, waving 
 his cane; but Jim, who possessed a quick almost woman 
 ish intuition in these matters, ran up the steps and 
 seized his friend s hands. "Is it all over, Nat? Is it over? 
 
THE BAR RECEIVES A NOTABLE ADDITION 271 
 
 Have you passed?" he cried out. Nat told him, pleased, 
 proud, touched. There was another great time of shaking 
 hands, and Vardaman fell into a burlesque attitude and 
 shouted out, "Hie labor extremis, hie meta longarum viarum!" 
 in a tremendous bellow to the astonishment of the passers- 
 by. Longarum viarum indeed! Nobody but Burke knew 
 how long had been that way. 
 
 During these congratulations there emerged from the doors 
 of the Erin-go-Bragh across the way, lo, that very same 
 stout, short, and jocund gentleman upon whose hint Burke 
 had begun his studies some three or four years ago; and 
 whom, in fact, the young man had seen many times since at 
 lawyers offices or at the Court-house, where he might be 
 arguing a case with a great deal of vigor, acuteness, and 
 power of persuasion. He now came across the street, eying 
 them gravely, so that Burke gave him a sort of tentative 
 salute. Upon that the other stopped short. "You have the 
 advantage of me, sir," he said very pleasantly; "yet your 
 face is perfectly familiar. I suppose we have met?" 
 
 They had met, and Burke reminded him how and when 
 judiciously leaving out some details in a slight confusion, 
 adding that he had acted on the other s advice. 
 
 "What!" ejaculated the lawyer, and smiled. "I builded 
 better than I knew. You ve just been admitted, hey? 
 What? Now? This moment?" He walked up to Nat 
 and prodded him on the chest with a rigid forefinger. "Ahem ! 
 Mr. Burke," said he, profoundly, "what is Law?" 
 
 "Well, I ll be damned if I know!" said the young fellow, 
 happy and reckless. " Will you come and have a drink, sir ? " 
 
 "Young man, I never drink!" said the other, majestically; 
 and walked off with a mighty flourish, laughing his loud, 
 jolly laugh. 
 
CHAPTER XX 
 
 CONTAINS SOME BUSINESS AND A GOOD DEAL OF PLEASURE 
 
 THE right to put " esquire" after his name, which he had 
 striven so earnestty to acquire although, indeed, he might 
 have adorned himself with that title at any time without 
 attracting much notice was, I am pained to state, almost 
 all that Mr. Burke got out of his late elevation for some 
 three or four months thereafter. He rented a little room up 
 one pair of stairs over a shoemaker s shop in a two-story 
 frame building on Gay Street just off of High; installed a 
 deal table, a couple of chairs, and a case of shelves which he 
 knocked together with his own trusty right arm and hand 
 and hammer out of an old packing-box got from the store; 
 hired a sign-painter to do him a foot-square board with his 
 name and profession tidily exhibited thereon, and affixed 
 it to the wall at the bottom of the stairs; and, finally, in 
 serted a card in the paper (it was the universal custom in my 
 youth), informing the public that Nathan Burke, Att y-at- 
 Law and Notary Public, had opened an office in the above 
 described locality, estates settled, collections promptly 
 attended to, referred by permission to the Hon ble Samuel 
 Gwynne, George Marsh, Esq., etc. And having taken all 
 these important steps, there the young gentleman sat in 
 uninterrupted leisure for the space of time I have mentioned, 
 improving his shining hours by a close review of what books 
 he had or could borrow, and wondering intermittently if 
 an era of world-wide peace had set in, to the extinction of 
 all legal industry. Fortunately he had always been a thrifty 
 youth, accustomed to a sparing way of life, so that he was 
 tolerably well fortified against this lean period; and being 
 of a confident and soberly cheerful temper, had no fears for 
 the future. " Oh, yes, I ve got to live pretty close," he said 
 in answer to a question from his ancient friend and employer, 
 Mr. Marsh; " but that s not worrying me any. If I can t 
 
 272 
 
CONTAINS BUSINESS AND PLEASURE 273 
 
 make out at the law, I can always get a job chopping wood, 
 I guess." 
 
 He had parted from the old man on the best of terms, and 
 with hearty good wishes on both sides. Mr. Marsh never 
 held out any inducements for Burke to remain, or expressed 
 any particular liking for him, or satisfaction with his work, 
 or, to sum up, treated him otherwise than with an impartial 
 respect and justice; for all that, he took in his way an in 
 terest in Burke s fortunes, showing it toward the close of their 
 association in a dozen rough yet kindly speeches and acts. 
 He never saw the young fellow on the street without stop 
 ping to ask how he was getting on, his old eyes twinkling a 
 little, in response, perhaps, to some expression on Nat s own 
 face for they had grown to know each other very well 
 as the latter gravely informed him that he was not busy at 
 the moment. The boys at the store, when they came around 
 to see the new attorney which they did quite often in the 
 beginning, out of mingled curiosity and friendliness re 
 ported that Mr. Marsh was actually almost enthusiastic in 
 recommending Burke to the customers who might be need 
 ing a lawyer s services. They missed Nathan a good deal, 
 they said was he making as much at law as he had at 
 bookkeeping for Marsh? "Not yet," Nat told them with 
 a grin. Kellar had Nat s place now the king is dead, 
 long live the king ! so funny, they all kept calling Kellar, 
 "Nat," just out of habit, you know. Mr. Ducey had won 
 five hundred dollars in the Alexandria Lottery had Burke 
 heard ? And they wouldn t wonder if Mr. Marsh was going 
 to draw out of the business before long and leave it all to 
 Ducey, sure enough. "You don t say so!" ejaculated Na 
 than, in astonishment; "oh, that must be a mistake. Why 
 the place can t go on that is, you can t imagine its going 
 on without Marsh!" 
 
 "Well, that s what I ve been hearing steady don t 
 know how true it is," said his informant; "of course you can t 
 tell anything from the way old George acts himself. He s 
 awfully close-mouthed when he wants to be. But he s 
 getting pretty old, Nat. Every day of seventy-five I guess. 
 I notice he ain t near as spry this last year; he kind of drags 
 his feet a little when he walks; sometimes he don t get down 
 to the store till way late in the morning. He s beginning 
 
274 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 to break up, I wouldn t wonder ; people notice it, you 
 know." 
 
 "/ haven t noticed it," said Burke, stoutly. He disliked 
 to think of the sturdy old man in decay; Marsh had been 
 Nat s first patron; it would have been difficult to define 
 the sentiment the young man felt for him. And it was, be 
 sides, impossible to figure this ancient hero of a hundred 
 hard-fought commercial battles in retirement. What would 
 he do with himself, Burke mused. How would he put in 
 the long day? I don t believe George Marsh ever read a 
 book in his life, or played a game, or went to see a friend except 
 on some business errand. Would he smoke a pipe in the 
 chimney-corner, and wander out for a walk once in a while, 
 and grow querulous and complaining about draughts and 
 meals and medicine, and presently rust away like an old 
 disused weapon Nathan hastily averted his mind. 
 
 In spite of the reports, however, there seemed to be no 
 present danger of all this happening. Old George appeared 
 at his place of business every day as heretofore; and it was 
 he who sent Nathan his first client. This case which, 
 alas, Mr. Burke lost! was that of a market-gardener 
 who had shipped twenty-one barrels of apples to somewhere 
 by the canal; and they had all got frozen and spoiled, owing, 
 the farmer thought, and his lawyer contended, to inadequate 
 provision for their shelter on the road. Jim Sharpless used 
 to represent, with impressive gestures and a deep rolling voice, 
 the dramatic scene in the court-room when counsel for the 
 plaintiff arose to make his plea "This gifted young man s 
 touching description of the sufferings of the unfortunate 
 apples, shivering and huddled together beneath the wretched 
 shanty into which an inhuman warehouse-keeper had thrust 
 them in the dead of winter without fire or light, moved the 
 hardest heart to pity and sympathy. And when he reached 
 his peroration, which for grace of style, originality of thought, 
 and fervid eloquence surpasses none ever before heard at 
 our bar, there was not one eye open in the court-room! 
 
 The unlucky outcome, however, occasioned poor Jim, 
 who was very generous, affectionate, and enthusiastic about 
 his friend, much deeper chagrin than was felt by counsel for 
 the plaintiff himself. "Why, I thought you were going to 
 win, Nat; I was dead certain you were going to win, or I 
 
CONTAINS BUSINESS AND PLEASURE 275 
 
 never would have made fun that way you don t mind, 
 do you, old fellow?" he said earnestly; "damn it, you ought 
 to have won. I never saw such a set of dunderheaded 
 fools as that jury!" 
 
 "Why, they were very respectable men and ordinarily 
 intelligent, I thought," said Burke, philosophically; "I m 
 not expecting to win every time. You ve got to take the 
 bad with the good, and it evens up in the end, I guess." 
 And in support of this theory it must be noted that, although 
 worsted in his suit, Mr. Burke was, on the whole, favorably 
 received in the court-room, and made so good an impression 
 that some one shortly after sought him out and retained him 
 for a case involving a lease and subrental, which Burke 
 gained this time. One or two of Governor Gwynne s care 
 fully cultivated rustic or backwoods patrons discovered him; 
 he got a payment of an order for groceries from a man who 
 had a suit against the city for a broken leg which would 
 have kept him, as he was of rather frugal and temperate dis 
 position, for the rest of his natural life ; and got it dis 
 counted, so to speak, by his landlord, the shoemaker, who 
 happened to have some spare cash. " I m beginning the tradi 
 tional way," said Burke, retailing this financial transaction to 
 his friends; " I heard Governor Gwynne telling somebody once 
 that his first fee was three bushels of potatoes." 
 
 "Ho, they used to get that sort of stuff in payment for 
 subscriptions at the Journal office all the time," said Jim; 
 "bags of corn-meal and duck and quail and deer in season, 
 hams and shoulders tallow candles everything you can 
 think of, even patchwork counterpanes. People don t do 
 that way so much nowadays, though. The journalistic pro 
 fession," said Jim, pompously, "is looking up since our well 
 born, well-educated, and talented youth have begun to enter 
 it. Although we cannot but deplore Mr. S s opinions, 
 we must at least allow him, etc. etc." He laughed as he 
 turned to his writing; he had quoted the last words from a 
 review which had appeared in the Gazette not long before. 
 
 There had been, in fact, an extraordinary reversal of public 
 opinion regarding Jim the last year or so. Nothing succeeds 
 like success; and the young fellow s readiness of pen, his 
 satirical and humorous insight, his quick, comprehensive 
 vision of men and affairs, had lately begun to make him a 
 
276 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 figure of some prominence in our small literary world. We 
 took these things with very great seriousness in those days. 
 During the legislative sessions Sharpless was correspondent 
 for half-a-dozen papers elsewhere in the State; he had got 
 three articles accepted by the American Review, "a Whig 
 Journal devoted to Politics and Literature," which was pub 
 lished monthly in New York with a steel-engraving of some 
 celebrity for a frontispiece; you may see any number of 
 J. S. s contributions within the pages of that long dead and 
 forgotten magazine during the decade of 40- 50. Jim s 
 essays were on literary subjects, and one, at least, of his 
 readers thought them by far the most pointed, scholarly, 
 and withal humane that the American Review ever pub 
 lished. And that winter there was brought out (by Messrs. 
 Leavitt, Throw & Co., of 33 Ann Street, New York, great 
 purveyors of gift-books, annuals, and so on, in those simple 
 old days) a little volume of Translations from Ber anger, 
 by J. S.," charmingly gotten up with a white cover embossed 
 with blue and pink and silver wreaths, ribbons, scrolls, 
 flambeaux, and what-not in the most refined and fashionable 
 taste; it had its steel-engraving, too, of " Flora" or "Julia" 
 or "Zuleika" or some such romantic, simpering female 
 facing the title-page she had nothing whatever to do with 
 Beranger; but what of that? No book of this nature would 
 have been complete without her, with her grin and her 
 languishing eyes, and her alarmingly low-cut bodice. The 
 book-sellers assured one that this concoction was "just the 
 thing for a gift to a young lady, or for the parlor-table." One 
 of these astute gentlemen advertised it in a review as by our 
 gifted fellow-townsman ! It sold like sixty, like hot cakes, 
 like wildfire! People who had never read a line of poetry 
 in their lives, nor heard of Beranger, nor understood a word 
 of the French language, so that they were wholly incapable 
 of appreciating the incomparable deftness of Jim s English, 
 bought it by the dozens. In a short while Mr. James Sharp- 
 less, very much to his own amusement, found himself sud 
 denly rehabilitated both in pocket and in the estimate of 
 society. Who shall expound these mysteries ? Jim, who 
 up till now had been a reprehensible vagabond, foraging in 
 discreditable places, discoursing unmentionable heresies, 
 knowing impossible people, living anyhow and everyhow, 
 
CONTAINS BUSINESS AND PLEASURE 277 
 
 shunned by all respectability like the plague Jim was now 
 become, without altering a single one of his habits or opinions, 
 an erratic, brilliant, companionable fellow, a dreadful Bohe 
 mian, but so original and so talented ! Female society 
 smiled on him ! He was admitted in the wake of his little 
 gilt book to the front-parlors of the elect. He had to buy 
 a white waistcoat and make other additions to his Robert- 
 Macaire wardrobe. The young ladies who owned "Trans 
 lations from Beranger by J. S." used to ask him prettily 
 to write his name in their copies; they received him in quite 
 a flutter and paraded Mr. Sharpless, the author, before 
 strangers and visitors; and were perfectly sure that he was 
 a wild, cynical, irreligious and ahem! yes, let us say 
 it immoral person whom it was dangerous and therefore 
 highly desirable to know. 
 
 "I m quite devilish and popular," Jim would say with his 
 kind satire; "girls I ve known all my life and used to play 
 with when we were children have all at once discovered that 
 I still exist after having cut me dead for years, under 
 their mothers orders, I suppose. But all the mothers re 
 member me now. It s the women that do it, after all, Nat. 
 Men know, you know, Jack Vardaman knows, that I m just 
 as I ve always been. A little success that, by heavens, I ve 
 worked hard for and deserved, doesn t make any different or 
 better man of me. I still stick to my monstrous beliefs, 
 and if I don t thrust them down people s throats, why, I 
 never have. I humbly trust that, creedless as I am, I live 
 decently and cleanly and like a man. But the women can t 
 believe that, and upon my soul, they don t want to believe 
 it! You ll never be a social success, Nat; you ve got such 
 a damning reputation for steadiness and respectability. If 
 you d only contrive to spread abroad a rumor of your terrible 
 immoralities and seductions, you d have a whole army of 
 em after you to reform you." 
 
 "I shouldn t want a whole army one would do me," 
 Burke said with a laugh. "Your mother is very proud of 
 you, Jim; she goes around with the dearest little I-told-you- 
 so air. Does your father ever ?" 
 
 "No, not a word," said Jim. He looked at his friend with 
 a kind of regretful pride in his face. "The old man is always 
 consistent, or tries to be, and what s more, he s right this 
 
278 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 time, Nathan. If I were President Sharpless in the White 
 House and still believed as I do, Jonathan Edwards Sharp- 
 less would still refuse to speak to me, or allow me under 
 his roof. He d think he d betrayed his Master, if he coun 
 tenanced me. I tell you, Nat, I m proud of him. Who 
 was that fellow that said every man has his price ? If he 
 could have known my father, he d have changed his mind, 
 I think." 
 
 If he could have known the son, he would have changed his 
 mind, Burke thought. Prosperity is so much harder a test 
 than adversity that, if Jim s head had been ever so little 
 turned by all the notice and flattery he got, it would not have 
 been at all surprising. But he remained unspoiled by the 
 one as by the other, gay, chivalrous, and kind, pleased with 
 the sunshine as he had been indifferent to the rain. Varda- 
 man could have had Jim to live with him in absolute safety 
 now. "Most remarkable thing, I believe he d increase my 
 practice!" Jack observed with a false air of simplicity. He 
 invited us to dine with him at his house which was presided 
 over by his only sister, a lady some few years older than the 
 doctor, and looking exactly like him in petticoats. It was 
 a type, which, however passable in a man, was not suited 
 to the accepted ideas of feminine attractiveness. Miss Clara 
 Vardaman, whom I know to have been a most sweet and 
 lovable woman, was never known to have received a mo 
 ment s attention from any male human being. She was 
 rather tall, thin, and flat, always exquisitely neat, with a 
 gold watch and chain around her neck, a cluster of curls in 
 front of her ears on either cheek, very beautiful small hands 
 and feet, of which she was harmlessly vain, I think, and a 
 manner of chilling reserve, due, I have since felt convinced, 
 to extreme and painful shyness. I have heard my wife say 
 that if ever the Lord cut out and fashioned a woman to be 
 an old maid, it was Clara Vardaman. As young as she 
 was at this time not more than thirty-four or thirty-five 
 she already owned a parrot and a poodle ! She was one 
 of the most immaculate housekeepers that ever stepped in 
 shoe-leather; she was past mistress of the womanly arts 
 of cooking and sewing; she worshipped the doctor as a su 
 perior being, measured all other men up to him, and if any 
 one mentioned So-and-So as being a good husband or a 
 
CONTAINS BUSINESS AND PLEASURE 279 
 
 promising young man, never failed to remark with surprise: 
 " Why, he s not at all like Jack!" Under her anxious super 
 vision the dinner to which Dr. Vardaman invited that 
 rising young member of the bar, Mr. Nathan Burke, and 
 that eminent man of letters, Mr. James Sharpless, in com 
 pany with a few other intimate friends, was conducted with 
 a magnificence of things to eat and things to drink and rich 
 old plate and china, the like of which Mr. Burke, who had 
 recently been making his first ventures in society, had never 
 beheld before. I dare say Miss Vardaman had been busy 
 for days with the boned turkey, the chicken salad, the cus 
 tards and jellies, and the dozen or so other sweets and relishes 
 which crowded the table. She sat at its head behind the 
 great old silver coffee-urn, quite silent in her green silk dress, 
 with her point-lace collar, with the handsome garnet neck 
 lace that had come to her from her mother, and the odd old 
 crown-set diamonds on her delicate fingers, thankfully 
 watching everybody eat, and frowning .dreadfully when the 
 servant dropped a fork, and nervously smiling at her brother s 
 jokes, which she could not understand, but which she was 
 loyally certain must be very funny. She did not laugh at 
 Jim s, which equally she did not understand but she had 
 a secret dread that they might be evil-minded. 
 
 "You are the Mr. Burke that Judge Swan was talking 
 about the other day, aren t you?" she said timidly to her 
 right-hand neighbor; "he said you handled the the case, 
 a case about something, I I don t quite remember what, 
 Mr. Burke but he said you handled it so well." 
 
 "Judge Swan has always been very kind to me," said the 
 gentleman. 
 
 "Do you play chess, Mr. Burke? No? Why, how odd ! 
 I thought you were so clever. Jack plays chess." 
 
 And this was the extent of the conversation. Perhaps 
 Mr. Burke himself did not make much of an effort to sustain 
 it; he had just caught a glance from Miss Mary Sharpless s 
 large and lovely gray eyes (across the pyramidal, sparkling, 
 cut-glass-and-silver castor in the middle of the table) that 
 had started a suffocating commotion under his white shirt- 
 front and crisp satin neck-scarf. 
 
 "I think it s perfectly wonderful your being able to speak 
 French, Mr. Sharpless," said Miss Clara. "Jack speaks 
 
280 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 French he s been there, you know. But Jack can do 
 everything. French is very hard all those awful verbs. 
 It takes a very bright person, I m sure. I don t see how 
 you ever learned." 
 
 "Why, I learned of a drunken old fiddler named Jean- 
 Baptiste Leroux, that said he had been a soldier in Napo 
 leon s army, and had dreadful tales of Jena and Waterloo," 
 Jim told her. "He used to come around to the coffee-houses 
 and play for pennies, and I got to know him quite well." 
 Miss Vardaman colored, and began hastily to talk about the 
 weather, in evident fear lest Jim might embark upon some 
 indiscreet details Frenchmen, coffee-houses Mercy! It 
 was Burke s privilege to take Miss Sharpless home that even 
 ing and Jim, with a truly fraternal inability to perceive 
 that two were company and three none, walked with them all 
 the way! 
 
 It will be seen that Mr. Nat had now, by imperceptible 
 degrees and entirely unknown to himself, entered what 
 Mr. Jeames de la Pluche (writing in an English magazine, 
 I think, at about this time) styled the "hupper sukkles." 
 The young man who was studying law in however in 
 formal a fashion in Governor Gwynne s office had a cer 
 tain social advantage over Mr. Marsh s head-bookkeeper; 
 and imagination staggers at contemplating the gulf that 
 separated that same young man, admitted to the bar, and 
 moderately successful, from Mr. Ducey s chore-boy ! It was 
 not ten years yet, but nobody remembered that creditable 
 yet not at all picturesque passage in Burke s career. This 
 subtle alteration, when it was finally forced upon Nat s 
 notice, moved him, as Sharpless was moved in circumstances 
 not altogether dissimilar, to hearty mirth. Like Jim, he 
 was conscious of no change in himself, unless it might be 
 the change incident to advancing years and experience; 
 failings and ambitions, good and evil, weak and strong, the 
 man Nathan Burke was the boy Nathan Burke. What or 
 who was accountable for the new atmosphere in which he 
 moved? Why, again, in one word, the ladies! "It s the 
 women that do it, after all," Jim had said of his own case. 
 Boy and man, Nathan had never lacked friends and society 
 among his own sex, nor been made aware of any barrier of 
 
CONTAINS BUSINESS AND PLEASURE 281 
 
 caste; it is the wives and mothers who adjust the scale, 
 who judge, decide, govern, and protect in all social matters. 
 Their office seems to be somewhere between guardian angel 
 and private detective; they tell us whom we shall bow to 
 on the street, and whom we may invite to dinner; we dress, 
 dance, make calls, go to the theatre, frequent church-fairs 
 and card-parties, marry and give in marriage by their for 
 mula it is conceivable that men, left to themselves, would 
 never perform any of these duties at all ! One cannot sup 
 pose that all the matrons of our society assembled in caucus, 
 and took a rising vote as to Mr. Burke s eligibility to their 
 own and their daughters acquaintance; there would be a 
 sort of crude male directness about such a proceeding. No, 
 the thing must have been accomplished by some potent 
 agency of which man knows nothing, working in secret. 
 Of a sudden Nat discovered that he was taking off his hat 
 a great many more times upon his daily walks abroad than 
 he ever had before; that Miss Sharpless was not the sole 
 young lady who stopped and chatted with him about the 
 weather; that it might be desirable to own an evening-coat 
 and pumps; and, for a concluding touch, Miss Frances Blake, 
 who had been away a whole year in New York City at 
 Madame Chegaray s fashionable boarding-school, and re 
 turned altogether grown up and dressed up, called him "Mr. 
 Burke" with a bright blush over her fresh little face which 
 was still rather round and infantine, notwithstanding her 
 seventeen years and gave him her hand in a very formal 
 style when they met. He told Jim Sharpless about it with 
 a laugh. 
 
 "She was with Mrs. Ducey and George in the carriage. 
 Francie, all over ribbons with a straw bonnet full of flowers, 
 like a dear little wren dressed out in bird o Paradise plumes. 
 She looks prettier in plain clothes, I think, but probably 
 her aunt won t have her any other way. Mrs. Ducey herself 
 was very brilliant, ten times the handsomer woman of the 
 two even at her age, with something very sweet, proud, and 
 maternal in the way she tried to put Francie forward and keep 
 herself in the background. They ve always treated Francie 
 just like their own child, you know. But Jim, you ought 
 to have seen George Ducey he went on to New York 
 with his mother, you know, when they brought Francie 
 
282 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 back the most tremendous swell in one of those new plaid 
 velvet waistcoats, the very latest cut, and his boots varnished 
 with that patent blacking-stuff they use now, so you could 
 see your face in ; em, through a glass darkly like a rosewood 
 piano-case. And lemon-colored kid gloves so tight he had 
 to hold his fingers spread out he couldn t have shaken 
 hands with me even if he d wanted to. They saw me com 
 ing out of Gwynne s office otherwise I don t know whether 
 George could have been prevailed upon to recognize me," 
 said Nat, laughing; "only he d probably mind his mother." 
 
 " Yes, and there aren t any affectations about Mrs. Ducey," 
 Jim said; " she s a fine woman. If you were a chimney 
 sweep, she d stop and speak to you before all the world, if she 
 liked you yes, and ask you to her house and give you the 
 best room in it in defiance of what people might say. I 
 believe she s always rather championed me. I know she 
 used to make a point of being kind to me. It seems incredible 
 that she should be the mother of that infernal puppy George." 
 
 Dr. Vardaman, sitting by, smoking one of the segars to 
 which he insisted on treating us of the very best variety, 
 for Jack had certain fastidious tastes and spent a good deal 
 of money that way looked up quizzically. 
 
 "Why, Jim," he said, "I see a kind of crooked likeness 
 between them. You might define it by saying that Mrs. 
 Ducey s worst qualities are George s best!" 
 
 "There s a good strong dash of Ducey, too, I think," 
 growled Jim; "or of that other fellow what did you say 
 his name was, Nat ? Old Marsh s brother that he told you 
 about. I mean the one that pretended to be a disinherited 
 earl, and got through all the money he could lay hands on 
 George s grandfather, wasn t he ? I notice a kind of family 
 likeness there, don t you ? Lord, what a jackass the creature 
 is!" said Jim, with singular fury; "the idea of that nice, 
 sweet, sensible, little Fran Miss Blake being obliged to 
 go around with him!" 
 
 "She won t be obliged to for long," Vardaman said with a 
 laugh; "calm yourself. Miss Blake is pretty well liked by 
 the men, I understand." 
 
 "Oh" said Sharpless, a little blankly; and he sat silent for 
 a while, puffing furious clouds of smoke. 
 
 "How are your medical studies progressing, John?" 
 
CONTAINS BUSINESS AND PLEASURE 283 
 
 Nathan asked at last; and all three young men burst out 
 laughing. This simple question had been a by-word with 
 them for the last two years or so. It gave them an idiotic 
 pleasure to support the fiction of the doctor being George 
 Ducey s pupil; they laid bets as to how much longer George 
 would continue in the medical profession, and which he would 
 take up next : law, arms, or divinity ? Vardaman displayed 
 a patience with him which might have confirmed us in our 
 belief had we needed to be confirmed in Jack s unfail 
 ing generosity of spirit and kind heart. In six months 
 George was directing the doctor how to run his office, cure 
 his patients, collect his bills, invest his money. And before 
 long we heard that he was ripe for practice, but Jack Varda- 
 man s envy and jealousy held him back! 77 "Oh, that s 
 nothing, that sort of talk, 77 said the doctor to us in private, 
 after some amiable person had brought him this report; "it s 
 what George may do that I m afraid of. Supposing some 
 body let him undertake a case of pneumonia or typhus ! I tell 
 you, fellows, the very deviPs in it he 7 s a menace to the 
 community ! 7 7 But Burke thought the hard, often unpaid, and 
 thankless duties of a physician would not be enough to George s 
 liking for the doctor to dread that risk. "Fancy George 
 hopping out of bed in the middle of a freezing winter night 
 to go to a case of small-pox ! 77 he said; "or leaving his nice 
 hot dinner to dose somebody s baby for the croup. It s 
 unimaginable." 
 
 It was so natural for a man of Jim Sharpless s character to 
 dislike George Ducey that I am sure it never occurred to 
 either of his friends that there might be some other feeling 
 equally strong underlying his dislike. Burke was pretty 
 well occupied with his own affairs, business and sentiment 
 both, at this time; and, as months went on, and in spite of 
 persistent rumors, Mary and the doctor never seemed to 
 get any farther than a comfortable friendship, Nat s hopes 
 revived. Probably they had never suffered any serious set 
 back, for love being on the whole a selfish growth, it is diffi 
 cult to kill out, except by some such withering frost as mar 
 riage with somebody else which was what Jack Vardaman 
 had had to endure. And, at any rate, even the most diffident 
 and self-distrustful of men which Burke was not could 
 hardly have interpreted otherwise than as encouragement 
 
284 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 the gentle words and glances he got from Miss Sharpless. 
 She was so sweet, so sympathetic, so deeply interested in his 
 work and plans, so unaffectedly glad to see him, so mindful 
 of his tastes, even to the point of wearing frocks he had 
 admired and playing his favorite selection on the pianoforte, 
 which was a good, loud, thundering piece entitled "The 
 Battle of Prague," that made the windows rattle and sent 
 agreeable tremors up and down the spine I do not see what 
 he could have gathered from all this unless encouragement. 
 Once she called him "Nathan," by accident, of course, and 
 apologized for it in a confusion that melted him into an 
 alarming state of tenderness. "I always think of you that 
 way I I can t help it, you know," said Mary and 
 then Mrs. Sharpless came in with her crocheting and uncon 
 sciously put a stop to the very interesting avowal Mr. Burke 
 was about to make. 
 
 He was a little relieved to think he had been so headed off, 
 as he walked back to Mrs. Slaney s that night. What busi 
 ness had he to ask any woman to marry him, or to wait 
 for him until he had enough to marry on ? It would be doing 
 her a rank injustice if she accepted him and giving her 
 needless distress if she refused. Jack Vardaman now but 
 Jack hadn t the faintest idea of asking Mary or anybody else, 
 Nat was confident; and had no qualms even when, calling at 
 the house, he found the doctor seated cosily on the frail little 
 shabby parlor-sofa which Mrs. Sharpless had patched up in 
 a dozen places, listening to Lord knows what symphony, 
 nocturne, berceuse, or other species of music in which Varda 
 man had a discriminating and cultivated taste. "Don t 
 you want The Battle of Prague now, Mr. Burke?" says 
 Mary, the moment it is finished, directing her clear glance 
 upon him almost with the effect of a caress. "Oh, yes, let s 
 have The Battle of Prague, by all means," says the doctor, 
 heartily. And presently the sofa is quivering under them 
 to the chords of that martial composition, and Mrs. Sharp- 
 less casting rather apprehensive glances in its direction. 
 Both gentlemen applaud the finale to the echo, and Mary 
 asks Mr. Burke what he will have next ? For somehow it 
 seems to Nat that she is always kindest and sweetest to him 
 when Jack Vardaman is by ! 
 
CHAPTER XXI 
 IN WHICH MR. BURKE CASTS HIS FIRST VOTE 
 
 WHETHER the points at issue in the Presidential campaign 
 of 1844 were more vital to the nation s health, or were more 
 bitterly and vigorously contested, or whether the event ac 
 quired importance and dignity in his eyes from the operation 
 recorded in the heading of this chapter, or from whatever 
 cause, Burke has always retained a more vivid memory of 
 that political struggle than of any other, even the much dead 
 lier and more decisive ones that succeeded it. My friends, 
 it s a fine thing to be young and cast your first vote. How 
 much depends on that ballot ! With what a fresh and hon 
 est patriotism and zealous belief is it slipped into the box ! 
 How eloquently, how earnestly, how solemnly were the young 
 voters of the country who were about to perform this feat 
 exhorted and addressed from the platform, the pulpit, the 
 Court-house steps, the State-house yard, the street-corners, 
 the editorial columns of the Ohio Statesman (Dem.), the 
 State Journal (Whig), the dozen-and-one partisan sheets 
 which used to spring up about the first of August and flourish 
 until after the first Friday in November, when they all incon 
 tinently withered down like Jonah s gourd ! I came upon 
 one of them by accident the other day; maybe it had been 
 guaranteeing some parcel against the moth in a corner of the 
 garret; it was yellowed with time and dust; its old print, 
 its clumsy old wood-cuts were yellowed and Good Lord, 
 what a lifeless thing it was with its vapid boasting, its lies, 
 its toothless sarcasms, its insults that can t insult anybody 
 any more, its jokes that will never again raise a laugh this 
 side of Styx! Once it must have come off the presses damp, 
 and been hawked about the streets, and eagerly bought and 
 read and wrangled over can you fancy it ? I remember 
 the man who edited it I who speak to you and he was 
 
 285 
 
286 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 a good fellow in spite of the terrific blows he gave and took; 
 now he and his paper and the men he assailed are one dust; 
 and the principles they supported, and the war they waged, 
 and the rest of their deeds, are they not all written in chron 
 icles where anybody can read them and nobody does ? Yet 
 a little while, and you and I shall have joined them; and other 
 battles shall go on over our heads, and other voters shall 
 be shouted at and encouraged and blarneyed, and we shall 
 rest well in our secure and comfortable oblivion. 
 
 Mr. Burke, who had little time to spare from the business 
 of making his living, and had arrived at a hearty contempt 
 for certain political methods and their exponents, and who, 
 moreover, had made up his youthful mind early in the game 
 and resolved to vote for Clay and Frelinghuysen when the 
 Whig Convention in Baltimore announced those gentlemen 
 as its choice of candidates, about the beginning of May, 
 presently found himself somewhat in the position of the 
 innocent bystander who is always getting into trouble during 
 a riot. For all his obstinacy and indifference he could not 
 escape the contagion of excitement. Were we more in ear 
 nest in those days, or was it only that we had less of public 
 interest to occupy our minds ? We looked to a change of 
 administration as we might have to the millennium. Dur 
 ing a Presidential campaign, every other kind of business 
 came almost to an absolute stand; at this distance of time 
 it seems to me we spent the days in mass-meetings and the 
 nights in torch-light parades. The store windows were 
 crowded with flags, portraits, " emblems." The Whigs 
 were "Coons," the Democrats "Polk-stalks," "Polk-berries," 
 "Polk - " never mind what ! These elegant pages shall not 
 be defaced with all the names we bestowed on one another. 
 
 Amongst Nat s acquaintance there was a pretty fair divi 
 sion between Clay men and Polk men, old Mr. Marsh be 
 longing to the first party, Sharpless and Jack Vardaman to 
 the last-named. Oddly "enough, these younger men did not 
 seem to take the political situation so seriously as old George, 
 who, having seen certainly a half-score of campaigns, ought 
 to have been, one would think, tolerably well seasoned to them 
 by this time. But his interest was almost boyishly vehe 
 ment; he stopped people on the street, he held forth in the 
 Erin-go-Bragh; putting, as is frequently the case, a great 
 
MR. BURKE CASTS HIS FIRST VOTE 287 
 
 deal of energy into expounding and defending the doctrines 
 of his party to men who, like Burke, believed as he did, and 
 did not need to be argued over. Perhaps the old man 
 wearied of his deferential audience at the store; he hardly 
 took the pains to pretend an interest in Ducey s opinions. 
 The clerks reported that he was daily growing more crabbed 
 and exacting "and grumpy you never saw the beat 
 of him!" one boy told Nathan; "he ll sit for hours without 
 saying a word. He s asleep part of the time over his old 
 paper, and always wakes up mad as a hornet and glares 
 around to see if anybody s noticed him. There ain t so 
 many people coming in to see him as there used to was, 
 y know, Nat. It s sort of dull in the store." 
 
 "Campaign year, you know," Burke suggested. But the 
 other shook his head. " Tain t that," he said wisely. 
 "Marsh is getting pretty old, and, by jingo, there ain t any 
 body left to come in. They ve been dying off lately old 
 So-and-So, you know, and Such-a-One - he named them 
 "dying off like flies. Pretty soon George ll be the only 
 one left." 
 
 Nathan was relieved to find that, notwithstanding these 
 gloomy tidings, old George always seemed cheerful, alert, 
 and sprightly enough when they met; age had not withered 
 him so far, Burke said to himself, and used to listen interest 
 edly to his ancient chief s exposition of the questions of the 
 day, even if his views were not especially illuminating or 
 original. 
 
 "Now who s James K. Polk?" was Mr. Marsh s favorite 
 expression of contempt and satire; "never heard of him 
 before. What s James K. Polk ever done ? By all accounts 
 nothing but keep his head shut. A wooden man could do 
 that!" and so on, and so on; thus old George, stopping 
 Burke on the corner where they have both lingered on the 
 skirts of the crowd to listen to some gentleman of empurpled 
 countenance and boundless lung capacity discuss the above 
 point. They can hear the gathering cheer for the "Sage 
 of Ashland" as they go on down the street. Everybody 
 was the Somebody of Somewhere during this campaign 
 except Mr. Polk himself, who was the Nobody of Nowhere. 
 The contest was close and there was plenty of cheering for 
 both candidates. Nat used to hear it as he sat at the decent 
 
288 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 and dignified desk which had replaced the pine table in his 
 quarters above stairs over the shoemaker s, with the windows 
 open and the summer breeze ruffling his papers. I can hear 
 it now; forty years after I can hear the hurrahing and the 
 bands tooting bravely; . . . "the country s risin for Harry 
 Clay and Frelinghuysen ! " and I can see young Nat Burke, 
 who will vote this fall, at his labors. 
 
 We did not see much of Sharpless these days; he was 
 forever dashing about from one political hive to another in 
 all parts of the State, and meeting many of the great ones of 
 this earth. He wrote letters to his paper; you could recog 
 nize Jim s bright ridicule, his good-tempered irony, his plain 
 man s logic. In all the crew of scribblers, I think he was the 
 only one who wrote like a gentleman, and argued, denounced, 
 or made fun with equal spirit and dignity. The shrieking 
 demands of his fellow-Democrats to annex Texas, to settle 
 the Oregon boundary at 54 40 , or wade in blood, found no 
 echo in Jim s sane and just and intelligent commentary ; 
 in fact, many would have thought the young fellow did not 
 always regard these subjects with the gravity they deserved, 
 treating, for instance, the " fifty-four-f orty or fight" slogan 
 of his party with ineradicable levity. 
 
 "It s right and proper to have convictions," he used to say 
 solemnly; "but I can t get into any sweat over the Oregon 
 boundary. It s too far away !" 
 
 All this while, let it be observed, there was a third party 
 in the field, and creating some commotion ; namely, that same 
 devoted band of martyrs or fanatics, which you choose, who 
 had figured forlornly in the Harrison- Van Buren campaign, 
 and wore the title of Abolitionists. Now they appeared as 
 the Liberty Party, with a substantial increase of following, 
 and under the leadership, as before, of Mr. Birney, who this 
 time had not refused the nomination ; twice on the Lupercal 
 had they offered him a kingly crown, which he finally ac 
 cepted with, as he knew and everybody else knew, no more 
 chance of winning at the polls than if he had been the Great 
 Cham of Tartary. Yet the party had undoubtedly gained 
 ground; there was some faint talk about the "balance of 
 power" ; I think both Whigs and Democrats, if they did not ex 
 actly court the Liberty Party, at least behaved with one eye 
 to its opinions. And it was very generally believed after the 
 
MR. BURKE CASTS HIS FIRST VOTE 289 
 
 election that many Abolitionists had actually voted with the 
 Whigs, whose sentiments more nearly agreed with their own. 
 They had adopted a spirited set of resolutions, full of brave 
 and outspoken truths, which either a Whig or a Democrat 
 would have been put to his trumps to answer. The fact 
 was, nobody did answer them; in some places they were 
 laughed at, in some sympathized with, in some pelted with 
 rotten eggs. All these varieties of treatment were accorded 
 them in our State in spite of a pretty strong and steadily 
 growing anti-slavery feeling and it fell to Burke s lot to 
 witness one reception of an Abolitionist speaker even to 
 take part in it. 
 
 " Father will go around and speechify on this slavery busi 
 ness," Jim Sharpless told his friend with an anxious face; 
 " he did at the last election, you know, and begged for em, 
 and wrote and preached and worked night and day - 
 
 "I remember him coming into Mr. Marsh s office with a 
 committee, after a subscription," Nat said. He described 
 the meeting, and Jim listened with a half-smile, half-frown. 
 
 "Think of father doing that, Nat," he said, looking at the 
 other with a flush on his lean cheeks; "nobody knows what 
 it cost him. He s he s a proud man, a high-tempered 
 man he hates from his inmost soul to ask for money - 
 don t / know that? We re just alike but I couldn t 
 bend myself to do the things father does for duty s sake 
 I m no such man as he is," said Jim, humbly. "He thinks 
 it s required of him by God and the church and the cause of 
 Abolition to go out and suffer all kinds of rebuffs and humilia 
 tions and sneers and, by heavens, yes, Nat, the old man s 
 run into actual bodily danger sometimes in these rough 
 places where he s been making speeches. I don t know 
 whether he knows it, but if he did, he d go just the same 
 and speak. He s not afraid of anything on this earth." 
 
 " Couldn t your mother, or or Miss Mary persuade him 
 not to ? I should think he d do anything for her for them, 
 I mean," asked Burke. 
 
 "Mother or Mary? Pooh ! Why, Nat, you know better 
 than that. I d like to see anybody stop Jonathan Sharpless 
 when he thinks he s doing his duty or when he s got his 
 head set, it amounts to the same thing," said his son with 
 almost a laugh; "I tell you, though, some of these other old 
 
290 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 Abolition boys realize when there re rocks ahead, and are 
 entirely willing to crawfish out of trouble. I met old Elder 
 Williams you know him, don t you, the one that has the 
 soap-boiling and refinery concern down on Front Street, 
 he s a great light in the church and the Liberty Party I 
 say I saw him on the street the other day, and I naturally 
 expected him to pass me by on the other side, as long as he 
 hasn t recognized me for years. But this time, didn t he 
 linger along with one eye on me and a sort of expression as if 
 he d speak if he was sure the Almighty wasn t keeping tab 
 on him! So I stopped 7 haven t any responsibilities, 
 and I never heard of anything against Elder Williams," said 
 Jim, with great seriousness. " How do you do, Mr. Wil 
 liams? says I affably. Hum ha how do you do, 
 James f I hum ha I read your book with great in 
 terest hum ha we haven t seen much of you lately, 
 James hum I might have told him he hadn t 
 looked," said Jim, grinning; "but I didn t. The fact is. 
 Nathan, I was a good deal floored by this notice. It looked 
 to me as if the old gentleman had something more particular 
 to say, and didn t quite know how to get himself started. 
 I told him I had been out of town more or less all summer, 
 going around from one political meeting to another. That 
 seemed to help him along a little; he wanted to know if I 
 thought hum the Whigs were going to carry the State? 
 Why, Mr. Williams, said I, it seems to me it s a pretty 
 close thing between Clay and Polk. You know I ahem 
 - 1 see all kinds of men, and I have to go into all kinds of 
 places, and I notice that the ahem the betting is very 
 heavy both ways. There s a great deal of enthusiasm, and 
 absolute confidence. I put this with rather an apologetic 
 air you don t want to talk to a deacon about betting and 
 all that you know but elder Williams never turned a hair! 
 Only looked interested and thoughtful and hum-ha d several 
 times, until, by jingo, Nat, I began to think he wanted to get 
 a fifty or so down on Clay or Polk himself ! I may as well 
 be plain, Mr. Williams, says I, wishing to change the sub 
 ject and lead him from temptation; as far as I can see 
 your party hasn t the ghost of a show. I dare say you never 
 had any solid expectation of success anyhow. At the last 
 election Birney and Lemoyne polled seven thousand and odd 
 
MR. BURKE CASTS HIS FIRST VOTE 291 
 
 votes, I understand; and this time there ll be more ten 
 times as many seven or eight thousand, I haven t a doubt, 
 right here in Ohio alone. So you might say that your views 
 are receiving some endorsement. It s not wholly discourag 
 ing. Now, Nat, if I d said that to father, he would have 
 raised up, looking like an ancient Hebrew prophet, and 
 thundered out something about Truth is mighty and SHALL 
 prevail, and the Blood of the Martyrs is the Seed of the 
 Church, and so on. But Elder Williams is a practical old 
 soap-boiler, and I could see he was a good deal put out over 
 the whole business. He got quite confidential and complain 
 ing knowing, of course, that he could talk to an outlaw 
 like me without restraint. He said he was against slavery, 
 of course, he believed any humane man would be against it; 
 but he thought hum ha the time was not ripe to 
 throw it off. He was of opinion ha that there was 
 little or no use in going around and rabidly denouncing so 
 solidly established an institution; that it only provoked 
 ill-feeling and, er in short, was a waste of time and 
 hum money. He had not quite understood the aims and 
 methods of the Liberty Party in the beginning, and doubted 
 whether he would have er allied himself with them, 
 if he had known what he was going into, in short. He had 
 personally contributed to their campaign-fund, and hum 
 he considered that money as much thrown away as water 
 through a sieve. He had even been obliged to go with other 
 members of his committee into very low parts of the city 
 and county, full of rowdies and blacklegs, where he thought 
 it was a needless risk to send a man of his age, and that he 
 wouldn t give a a fig for all the converts made in those 
 districts; any respectable man would rather have em against 
 him than with him! Now, for instance, James/ he said 
 (he was getting pretty well warmed up by this time), I 
 am expected to go with with your father, who is to speak, 
 down to one of those resorts near the river - Harmony Hall, 
 I think they call the place, probably you know all about it 
 - next Tuesday night. They ve promised us a constable 
 -but I consider it a preposterous undertaking for both of 
 us, even if it did any good, and it don t. I have endeavored 
 to dissuade your father, but he is quite set on it. I I 
 really don t know whether I ll be able to go hum ha 
 
292 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 Mrs. Williams is not at all well, and I don t like^to leave her 
 
 and we er we re expecting my brother s wife with 
 her children from Pittsburgh and er I I m very 
 busy at the factory, so that I doubt if I can spare the time. 
 I thought likely you didn t know about this meeting, and 
 while I wouldn t like to take it on myself, I um I would 
 suggest that you attend it, and use your um your 
 influence with um those people, to keep order. 
 Don t laugh, Nat. The old fellow meant well," Jim wound 
 up; " and it s only common sense for him to keep out of such 
 a place." 
 
 On sober thought, one could not but agree with Elder 
 Williams s fight-and-run-away, or rather run-away-without- 
 fighting policy. Harmony Hall was the chief ornament of 
 that part of the city called " The Bottoms/ long since swept 
 out and purified. It was a vile locality we did not have 
 the word slum then, but much as slum stands for, even it 
 might scarcely have described The Bottoms. The prospect 
 of poor Mr. Sharpless carrying his already hopeless crusade 
 amongst that population of pickpockets, drabs, and despera 
 does not a few of them black, or colored, by the way 
 where it was a common and facetious saying that for fifty 
 cents you could hire a man to vote for Beelzebub and go to 
 Hell to do it, too, for that matter I say the idea of address 
 ing these worthies in the cause of Abolition would have been 
 funny, if it had not been so disquieting. It was of a piece 
 with the kind of noble futility, the baseless altruism which 
 distinguished not alone Jim s father, but many another 
 enthusiast on the anti-slavery side. Did not the Saviour 
 of mankind visit and dwell with publicans and sinners, they 
 thought. And are we not all enjoined to carry the Gospel 
 unto the heathen ? 
 
 Jim recited his conversation with Elder Williams whom 
 he mimicked to admiration with abundant dry and droll 
 humor; yet he was seriously perturbed by his father s plans. 
 It should be explained, in justice to two tolerably decent 
 young men, that neither of them was at all familiar with 
 The Bottoms district whatever Mr. Williams had hinted 
 
 Burke, indeed, having been there only once in his whole 
 life, at the time he was hunting for Nance Darnell. Harmony 
 Hall itself was a ramshackle tenement, whereof the upper 
 
MR. BURKE CASTS HIS FIRST VOTE 293 
 
 story was let out as some kind of rooming-house, I think, 
 and the entire first floor thrown into one big dance-hall. 
 The Bottoms congregated and held festivities there by 
 night under the domain of a wretched old ruffianly saloon 
 and dive keeper, called White Hat Sam; if he had an 
 other name, nobody ever heard it. The dances generally 
 broke up in a wholesale row; somebody was forever being 
 robbed, beaten, shot, or stabbed in Harmony Hall whence, 
 I suppose, it had acquired its ironic title, bestowed with that 
 extraordinary, half-malicious levity which, as a people, we 
 sometimes display towards things sad and disgraceful enough 
 in themselves. But, on Tuesday night, when, having elected 
 to see the Reverend Sharpless (as he was most commonly 
 styled) through this particular experience, the son and his 
 friend arrived on the spot, it was, if not as quiet as might 
 have been wished, still as quiet as most political gatherings 
 of that date, according to Jim, who was thoroughly versed 
 in them by this. "They aren t exactly sewing-circles, " he 
 said. The street was full of sinister-looking loungers, all 
 the grog-shops were in full blast, and Harmony Hall itself 
 showed a great illumination of smoking, stinking, dripping oil- 
 lamps with battered tin reflectors, and some rags of red, 
 white, and blue bunting strung here and there in decoration. 
 Within there was a good-sized audience already collected 
 and standing about, leaning against the walls, or sprawled 
 on the steps of the speaker s platform at the upper end of the 
 room. The band was probably stationed there on ordinary 
 occasions, for there was a piano going full-tilt, and a burly 
 songster in a red waistcoat and collarless shirt was raucously 
 discoursing campaign airs. Everybody smoked, chewed, 
 spat, drank, talked at the top of his lungs, all at once, but 
 the disorder was no worse than it might have been anywhere ; 
 and Sharpless and his companion were surprised and relieved. 
 Nevertheless when a sallow, shifty-eyed youth in a grimy 
 apron came up proffering liquor, they thought it the part of 
 prudence to buy a drink apiece. " When you re in Rome 
 Jim whispered; "I shouldn t wonder if we were being 
 watched every minute. They ve got their eyes peeled for 
 all strangers, you know and White Hat might gently drop 
 us in the cistern if we didn t buy his execrable stuff." 
 
 " Ain t been here very recent, have yer?" inquired the pot- 
 
294 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 boy with a rather startling appropriateness, returning at the 
 moment from another customer. He arranged the glasses 
 on his slopped tray to make room for theirs. "Thank ye, 
 sir. Old place looks jest th same, don t it?" he added with 
 as open a smile as his features, which were not constructed 
 by Nature for any such expression, could compass. 
 
 "Just the same/ said Jim, smoothly. "And there s my 
 old friend Leroux at the piano!" The boy eyed us plainly 
 puzzled; but indeed it was Leroux, whom Mr. Burke had 
 never had the honor of meeting before, a withered, dirty, 
 shaking, poor wretch, old as the hills, and about three-parts 
 drunk; yet the crazy instrument responded with something 
 like fire and precision under his begrimed, unsteady hands. 
 He embraced Jim (in the French fashion on both cheeks 
 to the huge delight of the bystanders) when the latter pre 
 sented himself. " Mon cher mon enfant est-ce bien toi 
 que je tiens dans mes bras!" says old Leroux, weeping pro 
 fusely; and peered up at him a little bewildered with his 
 bleary old eyes. "Vat it ees, your name, hein? I haf 
 forgot ah, cette vilaine memoir e /" 
 
 "My name s Jim," said the other, warily. 
 
 "Ah, oui, je me rappelle ce cher Jeem " It is much to 
 be doubted whether he did remember, however; but he in 
 sisted on their taking another drink out of the bottle and 
 tumbler beside him on the piano; the Harmony Hallers 
 looked on, wondering and amused. 
 
 "Don t they furnish chairs, sir?" Burke inquired by 
 way of being sociable of a gentleman who, with his shoulder 
 propped against the wall near by, was diligently picking his 
 teeth with a pen-knife. He wiped it on his coat-sleeve, 
 snapped it shut, and thrust it into his breeches-pocket before 
 answering, regarding them the while speculatively. 
 
 1 Chairs hell ! " he then observed negligently : No 
 Sam don t never have chairs any more. He ain t made o 
 money, ye know." A remark which, although apparently 
 irrelevant, was not without a certain ominous significance. 
 They took a position close to the dais at the imminent risk of 
 being deafened by the musical performance; and in no great 
 while afterwards the speaker of the evening came in, unat 
 tended, with a little rather ironical cheering (one of us fan 
 cied) in his wake as he walked up to his place. Mr. Sharpless 
 
MR. BURKE CASTS HIS FIRST VOTE 295 
 
 heard it unmoved; he was too used to public speaking to be 
 flustered by any ordinary reception; he mounted the steps 
 in a momentary hush and went over and began to arrange 
 his notes on the squalid table under one of the lamps as calmly 
 as if he had been in his own pulpit of a Sunday morning, with 
 his flock decorously awaiting the Word of God. The present 
 congregation surveyed him with a kind of jocose ferocity; 
 their sense of humor was probably deeply tickled by the in 
 congruous spectacle of Mr. Sharpless s long, lean, rigid black 
 figure and Mosaic countenance in this Harmony Hall setting. 
 They manifestly wanted to see what he was going to do ; and 
 when some wit loudly advised him from the floor to "Go it, 
 Daddy Longlegs! Give the hell!" he was summarily and 
 not too gently silenced by his neighbors. One of those 
 most active in promoting quiet was a short, stout, thick- 
 necked man with greasy gray hair under his old shabby head 
 gear. "White Hat Sam," murmured Jim, nudging his 
 friend; and this celebrity presently came up, and slouched 
 heavily down on the step not far away; he must have been 
 upwards of sixty years old, Burke observed with surprise. 
 
 "If you will kindly come to order, my friends," said Mr. 
 Sharpless, coming forward with his papers in one hand, and 
 fumbling for his eye-glasses with the other. He was not im 
 mediately heard, and repeated the words, raising his voice, 
 without effect. "Order, if you please, gentlemen!" cried 
 the divine again, peering at the crowd with his near-sighted 
 eyes over his spectacles. White Hat Sam looked up at him, 
 grinning obscenety. Still the meeting did come to order 
 after a fashion in a moment or two; it seemed to Burke as 
 if the moving spirit of all these demonstrations, whether to 
 instigate riot or preserve peace, was the proprietor. They 
 took their cue from him; yet he sat motionless, heavy, and 
 inert as a Hindoo idol. And Mr. Sharpless began. 
 
 The first part of his address nobody ever heard the 
 last was, as I remember, a sort of history of Slavery in the 
 United States, and would have been interesting enough to 
 any other audience. It is very common at this day (said Mr. 
 Sharpless) to speak of our revolutionary struggle as com 
 menced and carried forward by a union of Free and Slave 
 colonies; but such is not the case. However slender and dubi- 
 
296 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 ous its legal basis, Slavery existed in each and all of the col 
 onies that united to declare and maintain their independence. 
 . . . The spirit of liberty aroused and intensified by the 
 protracted struggle against usurped and abused power in the 
 mother country. . . . How, my friends, shall we complain 
 of arbitrary and unlimited power exerted over us, while we 
 exert a still more despotic and inexcusable power over a 
 dependent and benighted race? 
 
 It was at about this point that the audience began to show 
 unequivocal signs of restlessness; the pot-boy was circulat 
 ing like a comet; somebody in the middle of the hall wanted 
 to know if the gentleman had made any remarks reflecting on 
 Dorr of Rhode Island, 1 because Dorr of Rhode Island was 
 "Do you mean front-Dorr, or back-Dorr?" some other 
 patron of Harmony Hall inquired; references to all kinds of 
 doors flew thick and fast in a rising racket; and a wag stand 
 ing near proceeded to give a loud, clear, and brilliant imi 
 tation of a rooster crowing, being desirous apparently of 
 adding his mite to the tumult, whether appropriately or 
 not. It was a tremendous success ; in an instant the 
 place roared with every sort of farm-yard sound: bark 
 ings, brayings, mooings, gruntings, and snortings, as of 
 Circe s herds. " Order, if you please, my friends order 
 one moment " cried Mr. Sharpless, startled and dropping 
 some of his papers, a little confused. " Order, if you please, 
 my friends, order!" repeated the ventriloquist, his neighbor, 
 in an amazingly exact yet caricatured imitation. Mr. Sharp- 
 less tried again to go on; he had lost his place. . . . " Hu 
 man brotherhood, my friends, is a cardinal principle of true 
 Democracy as well as of pure Christianity "True 
 Democracy as well as pure Christianity!" crackled his tor 
 mentor. "Keep quiet, Jim, you can t do anything," urged 
 Burke, grasping his companion s arm. They were being a 
 good deal hustled and shoved about, yet there was nothing to 
 arouse one so far; all this rough behavior was such as might 
 have been met with in a roomful of uncommonly boisterous 
 schoolboys, and merely conveyed to the orator in a suffi 
 ciently good-humored manner that The Bottoms had had 
 
 1 The newspapers of the date are full of the affair of Governor Dorr 
 of Rhode Island, and are freely recommended to those who have the 
 patience to read about it; the editor had not. M. S. W. 
 
MR. BURKE CASTS *HIS FIRST VOTE 297 
 
 enough of him. If Mr. Sharpless had taken the hint, if Jim 
 had kept his temper, if there hadn t been quite so much of 
 White Hat Sam s fire-water going the rounds but to what 
 end are all these speculations ? The succeeding events took 
 place with a stunning suddenness ; one moment it was a lot of 
 noisy, jolly, blaspheming bullies, and the next a cage of 
 wolves, a den of hyenas ! Burke, still holding his friend s arm, 
 had just been obliged to jerk his other elbow into the eye of 
 an over-inquisitive gentleman who was feeling in his vest- 
 pocket, when they saw a man, in a burst of Harmony Hall 
 humor shy something at the speaker (who was vainly trying 
 to continue), some small object, a rotten potato or tomato, 
 perhaps. It struck the Reverend Mr. Sharpless on the 
 cheek-bone, not hurting him at all, I think, but knocked off 
 his glasses and shattered them, to the great delight of the 
 joker and those nearest in the audience who witnessed this 
 feat. Sharpless twisted out of his companion s grip. 
 
 " You ll strike an old man, will you, you !" he gasped 
 out in a fury, gritting his teeth on a dreadful curse; "take 
 that, you!" And struck him in the face and sent him 
 reeling. Jim was not a very strong man, and he hit out with 
 no science at all, but the attack took the other by surprise; 
 he went down on the steps of the platform, and upon the in 
 stant Harmony Hall burst into its brutal rage. 
 
 I suppose it is strange that we ever got out of the place alive 
 and unharmed; but barring bruises and torn coats, we found 
 ourselves whole in the end. Perhaps the very size and close 
 ness of the crowd and the imperfect light saved us ; for only 
 comparatively few, and those in the front ranks, could have 
 seen what passed; and doubtless in the minds of many the 
 fellow whom Jim had knocked down had not got a blow amiss. 
 The Bottoms had very little sympathy to waste on the van 
 quished; the fight was the thing with them. We charged up 
 the steps over the prostrate foe whose nose was bleeding 
 grandly and got to Mr. Sharpless and each got hold of one 
 of his arms. "Gentlemen " he protested, backing away; 
 without his glasses he did not for a second recognize either 
 of us; he wanted to go on with the speech. "If you will allow 
 me, gentlemen !" 
 
 "You ve got to come away, father!" shouted Jim in his ear; 
 "come along, I say. There s a door over here " Another 
 
298 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 missile hurtled from somewhere; it went over our heads and 
 struck one of the lamps, putting it out in a fountain of broken 
 glass. The singer, with admirable judgment and agility, 
 dived down and crawled on all fours under the piano. "By , 
 boys, you better git th old man out o this!" he bawled dis 
 interestedly; and even in that wild moment, Burke saw, and 
 remembered afterwards, how this kind-hearted ruffian 
 reached out and dragged poor old Leroux after him into a 
 corner of safety. Men were swarming on to the platform as 
 they made for the door. It was securely locked, however, and 
 they seemed to be fairly cornered. Jim shoved Mr. Sharp- 
 less (still protesting! He was not in the least frightened) 
 behind the table, and Nat scrambled up on it, facing the room 
 from this commanding height. As he did so some secret 
 sympathizer yes, even in that place ! stuffed something 
 into his hand; it was the butt of a pistol. "Take it, bub, 
 take it; you re going to need it!" was growled hoarsely in his 
 ear. He never even saw this man s face, nor ever knew who 
 it was that had sought to befriend him. For then and there, 
 Mr. Burke made what was practically his first and last ap 
 pearance as a public speaker. "Men!" he bellowed; and 
 being possessed of a good strong throat and a fine pair of 
 lungs, and having, moreover, seized by chance upon a mo 
 ment when the uproar fell a little, he actually succeeded in 
 making himself heard. 
 
 "Men!" shouted Nat; "somebody has just handed me 
 this pistol. If the gentleman will step up, Fd like to re 
 turn it and this invitation produced, for a wonder, a 
 dead silence of sheer curiosity. As the owner of the pistol 
 discreetly preserved his incognito "Very well!" said 
 Burke, and tossed the weapon out of the window. "I don t 
 think we need a pistol in a gathering of American citizens !" 
 he remarked at the top of his lungs, and with the inward cer 
 tainty that some of us, at any rate, would never need pistols 
 more in our lives! But the bluff worked! This resounding 
 sentiment brought forth a round of applause and encourag 
 ing yells. "Go on! Speech, speech!" Never was there 
 such a violent reversal of popular feeling; it was but mo 
 mentary, as Burke knew; yet, looking down on them, of a 
 sudden he perceived that this pack of rascals were at least as 
 much fools as knaves. They were flighty and inconsequent, 
 
MR. BURKE CASTS HIS FIRST VOTE 299 
 
 like a flock of sparrows; at once silly and bloody-minded, 
 turning from one excitement to another with an incredible 
 childishness. 
 
 "I m not here to do any talking," he said; "I only want to 
 say that the Reverend Mr. Sharpless is ready to go on if 
 you" 
 
 "Aw, shut him up ! Say, sonny, does yer mother know^yer 
 out?" shouted somebody. And Burke, looking in that 
 direction, discovered it to be the proprietor, White Hat Sam 
 himself, who, for some reason of his own, did not appear to be 
 over-pleased with the peaceable face affairs were now be 
 ginning to wear. 
 
 "You were saying, sir?" inquired Nat, civilly. 
 
 "Shut up, we don t want to be gassed at by no boys like 
 you. By God, young feller, I was making my living before 
 you were born!" 
 
 "Well, then, by God, sir, you haven t made it since!" 
 retorted Burke, briskly. And this not particularly brilliant 
 repartee, addressed to White Hat Sam, who probably had 
 never done a stroke of honest labor in his life, moved our 
 fellow-citizens to a frenzied hilarity. Lo, who so well-liked 
 now as Mr. Burke and his supporters? They were actually 
 willing to hear Mr. Sharpless out, but the minister himself 
 seemed to have changed his mind and refused in a few grave 
 words. The singer came out of retirement (leaving Leroux, 
 who was dead drunk by this time, and snoring peacefully) 
 and struck up "Whigs of the Union," which was set to the 
 tune of the " Marseillaise," and under cover of its enthusiastic 
 chorus we all three got away at last. Mr. Sharpless said 
 not a word on the trip home. The stars were shining as we 
 parted from him at the gate, but it was too dusky beneath 
 the low-branched maples along the sidewalk by the parsonage 
 to distinguish his expression. 
 
 "I wish you good-night, gentlemen. I thank you both," 
 he said. 
 
 "I hope, Mr. Sharpless, you you are not going to speak 
 in that neighborhood again ? " said Burke, hesitating. 
 
 "I am not. Sir, I have made my last speech," said the 
 minister. He kept his word. Outside the pulpit, he never 
 spoke publicly again. 
 
300 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 The election for governor was held the second week in 
 October at that time, in advance of the Presidential by three 
 or four weeks; and it served, we used to think, as a sort of 
 feeling of the political pulse. Nobody had ever heard of 
 registration as yet, and we understood there was a rousing 
 trade in ballot-stuffing, in repeating, in illegal naturalization, 
 in chicanery, bribery, and corruption of all kinds; the papers 
 on both sides were full of gloomy warnings against it; no 
 candidate, according to the opposition, was ever elected with 
 out a most barefaced and vicious resort to these methods. In 
 this campaign, BRITISH GOLD first appeared as an awful 
 agent of corruption, the most astonishing thing about it being 
 the naivete with which we complained of being corrupted! 
 Not yet has that ridiculous old spectre been laid. But Messrs. 
 Sharpless and Burke were perhaps not in a position to pass 
 judgment on these statements; nobody approached with 
 offers to corrupt them in behalf of either Clay or Polk. They 
 went soberly and cast their maiden votes; Ohio went Whig, 
 securing twenty-three votes in the electoral college for Clay. 
 Hurrah, hurrah, the country s risin ! 
 
 Alas for all these high expectations! Look on this picture 
 and now on this ! Alas for Henry Clay, for his single- 
 minded followers, for Ewing, for Corwin, for Samuel Gwynne 
 (the latter retired from public life after this campaign), for 
 everybody who had talked his throat out in the good cause, 
 and contributed his money, and spent his time ! In a month 
 how were we all dashed by the news that the Polk-stalks, the 
 Polk-berries, the Loco-focos, the Coon-catchers, had triumphed 
 after all! " We are beaten, badly beaten," said the Journal, 
 in dignified mourning; "but let us not despair. Let us not 
 cease to do our utmost as good citizens, and whatever comes, 
 even the worst results of our adversaries blind and reckless 
 policy, even WAR with all its train of horrors, even BANK 
 RUPTCY and DESPOTISM, let us, etc. . . ." 
 
 "If we should have war over Oregon or Texas, would you 
 go, Nat," his friend asked him. 
 
 "Why, yes yes, I suppose so. But, pshaw, it s all talk 
 we won t have any war." 
 
CHAPTER XXII 
 CONTAINS BOTH PEACE AND WAR 
 
 ALL this time, with a culpable negligence, I have forgot 
 even to glance at the affairs of Mr. George Marsh Ducey 
 surely of no slight moment to this history. The fact is, 
 Nathan, who was a busy, or, at least, an industrious young 
 man, had latterly seen very little of George, for whose society 
 he did not have a strong inclination the feeling was mu 
 tual, without a doubt. We had worn out that ancient joke 
 about George s prowess in the ranks of medicine; for, dis 
 gusted with the narrowness of Vardaman s views, and his 
 contemptible prejudice against rising talent, George had 
 left the doctor s office. He shook the dust of that poor abode 
 of small scholarship and less skill from his feet; he was by 
 nature too compassionate and too sensitive to the sight of 
 suffering ever to have relished the calling anyhow, he said. 
 There was a kind of crooked truth in the statement. As 
 a boy, Burke remembered to have seen George faint at the 
 sight of fresh blood; and whereas the other boys gathered 
 in a ghoulish mob to witness the decapitation of poultry or 
 drowning of superfluous kittens, George would run screaming 
 to his mother from the horrid spectacle. So he left Varda- 
 man finally after about fifteen or eighteen months in the doc 
 tor s office, as nearly as I recollect, and for a while returned to 
 the store, where he probably was as valuable as he had been 
 in Burke s day, and certainly even more ornamental. As 
 George grew older his taste for dress and the minute ele 
 gancies of life developed to a high degree. His choice in 
 cravats, upholstery, ladies bonnets, was well-nigh infallible; 
 his mother relied on him to match her silks and worsteds to a 
 shade and, at a pinch, he could have worked with them 
 upon her embroidery-frame, I dare say. No pent-up 
 
 301 
 
302 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 Utica contracted George s powers, a whole unbounded con 
 tinent of accomplishments was his to parody the hand 
 some motto which Mr. Park Benjamin had selected for his 
 paper, the New World, published about this time. Work 
 at the store palling on him after an interval, as I have hinted, 
 the next thing we heard was that George was studying law; 
 myself have seen him, hurrying along the street, intent, 
 abstracted, with a forehead corrugated like a Greek column, 
 and a green baize bag bulging with books and papers under 
 one arm, fruit of his legal studies. He too was in Governor 
 Gwynne s office ! For let nobody imagine for an instant that 
 George did not display any stern masculine traits; it is 
 possible for a man to be, as he was, extraordinarily proficient 
 in the gracious arts of dancing and dressing and matching 
 ribbons, while at the same time a very serious, valorous, 
 formidable member of society. He was not eligible to vote 
 at this last election, although he must certainly have felt 
 himself competent to direct the policy of either candidate, 
 having given the subject, as he himself told Mr. Burke, a 
 thorough and exhaustive study; but he attended some of 
 the meetings. You might see George in an erect attitude 
 at some conspicuous corner with his arms folded, listening 
 to the orator with a fatigued smile, or an occasional slight 
 critical and thoughtful frown, and glancing about tolerantly 
 when others applauded. George never applauded. He 
 was only moved to pity by the view of so many of his fellow- 
 citizens so easily wrought upon by the feeble logic which he 
 could have exposed and demolished in three words. His 
 leanings were distinctly Democratic; according to him the 
 one fact in Clay s favor was that ingrained habit of satisfy 
 ing an insult with bloodshed, which most people condemned ! 
 "Pooh, what would they have a man do?" cried out George, 
 with spirit; "sit down patiently under a blow or an affront! 
 I d like to see anybody try it on with me, that s all!" 
 
 Naturally enough, holding these sentiments, Mr. Ducey 
 was a vigorous opponent of British aggression. "Fifty-four- 
 f orty-or-fight " was, as one might say, the breath of his 
 nostrils; he used to quote, with a devout rage, all the clamors 
 of our press about English interference on this continent: 
 . . . . "We now hear that Great Britain has advised 
 Mexico under no circumstances to acknowledge the inde- 
 
CONTAINS BOTH PEACE AND WAR 303 
 
 pendence of Texas; but to keep up an armistice with her as 
 long as possible; and in case of a successful attempt at an 
 nexation, then to go to war and England would back her in 
 the contest! !!" 
 
 "By heavens, it makes my blood boil!" says George, 
 savagely, pulling up his shirt-collar and throwing out his 
 chest as he gazes around the peaceful family-circle seated at 
 dinner, after reading out this trustworthy piece of news; 
 "by heavens, if I was Polk, I know what Pd do!" His 
 mother, knowing George s martial tastes he lately joined 
 a militia company in high repute with us, the "Montgomery 
 Guards," knew more about military dress and accoutrements 
 than any living mortal except the tailors, and paraded on the 
 Fourth of July in all his gilt braid and regimentals, the most 
 dashing and distinguished soldier of the lot his mother looks 
 at him with fearful and tender eyes. Even Francie, who is not 
 an imaginative young woman, appears to be somewhat im 
 pressed. Old George Marsh alone sits there, callously sopping 
 his bread in gravy and eating his stewed corn with a spoon, quite 
 unmoved by George s heroic utterances. He lost his last 
 tooth the other day, and is seriously handicapped in his eating, 
 not being able to endure the set of false "uppers and lowers" 
 he sent for to New York. He complained to Burke that, by 
 damn, he paid a hundred and twenty dollars for em, and 
 never had a minute s comfort out of em; they kept jumping 
 up and getting crossways in his mouth, by damn! He 
 looks up, raising his shaggy old eyebrows in that familiar 
 gesture: "Knock the stuffing out of em, hey, George?" 
 he says. "You ain t any use for British gold, nor British 
 anything, have you?" 
 
 "Sir, from any one else that would be an insult!" says 
 George, majestically. 
 
 "All right, all right," says his uncle, in an humble voice, 
 but grinning a truly Satanic grin; "I just wanted to know. 
 I m English myself, and I don t want to make any mistake 
 and leave my money where it ain t wanted, that s all!" At 
 which Mr. George s wrath cools off with surprising rapidity 
 and a rather blank look on the young gentleman s face. 
 
 "You oughtn t to get irritated at Uncle George," his 
 mother warns him afterwards; "he s getting very old and 
 feeble, you know." 
 
304 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 It was Jim Sharpless from whom Burke used to hear the 
 details of these and like conversations. Jim was a pretty 
 constant visitor at the house; it was always full nowadays, 
 as in the years of Nathan s first acquaintance with it, of 
 young men, pretty girls, children, singing and laughing, 
 pianos going, guitars thrumming. Sharpless could mimic 
 the older and younger Ducey, mimic old George, and every 
 body else to perfection, sparing no one but Mrs. Ducey, for 
 whom he had a chivalric devotion, and and Miss Frances 
 Blake. He talked, I think, a good deal about Miss Frances 
 Blake, although Burke, who was quite selfishly absorbed in 
 a certain sentimental affair of his own, never noticed it. 
 Jim said she could play the piano better than any one he 
 knew. " Better than your sister?" said Burke, in wonder. 
 As if any piano-playing could equal hers! Well, no, not better 
 than Mary, perhaps, but Francie s Miss Blake s, you 
 know was different. And then she had a very sweet 
 voice, too; you ought to hear her sing: " True love can ne er 
 forget." -"But I suppose you have heard her," Jim said 
 with a quick sigh, and fell silent. "I wish I could make 
 a lot of money, Nat," he said, rousing himself again. "Well, 
 I will some day, you see! I might close with that Tribune 
 offer I might go to New York only " and again he 
 was silent, drumming with his fingers on the table. "By 
 George, I ll show em yet!" he burst out: " For his spirit it 
 was tre-men-ju-ous " and went to correcting proofs with 
 a laugh. 
 
 His mood, however, was not always so genial; sometimes 
 he was depressed, sometimes severe, sometimes merely irri 
 table, alternations of temper which Burke, not at all realizing 
 that they mirrored some of his own, and are perhaps com 
 mon to all lovers, observed with bewilderment. It seems 
 to me now that if he had used his eyes and ears, to say noth 
 ing of his intelligence, he might have known what ailed Jim, 
 and been a little more sympathetic. 
 
 "She looked so pretty to-night, Nat, so pretty. She had 
 on some kind of a little dress with pink rosebuds spotted all 
 over it, and and pink ribbons somewhere, I think 
 
 "She? Who? Who re you talking about?" asked that 
 thick-headed Nathan, looking up from his brief, agog at 
 these millinery statistics from Jim. 
 
CONTAINS BOTH PEACE AND WAR 305 
 
 "Why, Francie, of course," said the other, a little impa 
 tiently; "I ve just come from there, you know. George 
 was at home. I left him on the front porch, braying co 
 piously," Jim added with venom; "the idea of that fellow 
 being with her being in the house where he can see her all 
 the time! I believe she sees through George, though; she s 
 known him all her life; she must know all about him, being 
 brought up with him that way just the kind of donkey 
 he is, don t you think so, Nat?" 
 
 Sharpless, indeed, took a malign pleasure in drawing 
 George out, and, as it were, parading him before the company 
 or before Francie, for all his efforts were directed with 
 one eye on that young person s good graces. Perhaps she 
 did not always understand all of Jim s sober irony ; I believe 
 she was a little afraid of him even when he was writing 
 sprightly little epigrams in her album, and putting new 
 words to her songs, and telling his gay stories, and drawing 
 absurd sketches that made her laugh till she cried. One 
 of them, which I have seen, depicted Jim himself, a mon 
 strous caricature, gaunt and lath-like, supporting Francie 
 in a sort of heraldic attitude upon the back of a chair. "The 
 artist cannot do justice to the female figure in this design," 
 he said gravely. "Don t you remember? It is a great his 
 toric occasion a Fourth of July celebration in the old 
 Methodist church years and years ago, when you were a 
 wee little girl and were going to be smothered to death in the 
 crowd, and I helped you up to the back of the pew and held 
 you don t you remember ? " asked the young man, with his 
 dark eyes on her wistfully. 
 
 "Mercy, no!" said Francie, reddening. 
 
 "I ve never forgotten it," Jim said. 
 
 "She remembers everything you used to do, Nathan, 
 every single thing, and often speaks about it," he afterwards 
 said, in reciting this scene; and looked at his friend oddly. 
 
 "Well, that wouldn t be saying much. I never did any 
 thing particularly startling that I know of," Nat said with a 
 laugh; "and I wasn t much of a hand to talk in those days. 
 It s only because I was around the place for two years, and 
 left a brilliant memory. By jingo, sir, you don t realize 
 that I was the best chore-boy the Duceys ever had !" 
 
 In fact, the family made Mr. Burke welcome enough when 
 
306 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 he went there in his altered role nowadays o, quantum 
 mutatus ab illo Hectore! as Jack Vardaman would have said 
 Mr. Ducey and George with a delicate, patronizing, and 
 almost protecting kindness; Mrs. Ducey with a species of 
 careful and stilted good manners that made Burke want to 
 laugh. She was incapable of disguising the fact that for all 
 people said (yes, even Francie s girl-friends, and her own 
 friends, their mammas, said it!) about young Burke being a 
 sufficiently well-behaved man, and doing nicely in his pro 
 fession, she never could forget what he had been; and equally 
 incapable of understanding that he was not at all touchy 
 on the subject, nor anxious for her to forget that time. 
 "I declare I never know what to say it s like walking on 
 eggs," Burke once overheard the poor lady complaining to a 
 friend. "Why, my dear, he used to milk our cow! And 
 here he is sitting in the parlor, not a bit different from any 
 body else. All the young men know him and treat him the 
 same as one of themselves, you know. I m so afraid I ll 
 mention the cow or the chore-boy or something of the sort 
 before him of course, it wouldn t really be any harm, but 
 I want to be kind. It s like when you meet a Jewish person 
 or somebody that s been divorced, you know, something 
 always seems to impel you to talk about Jews or divorced 
 people I Mercy, I ve done that so many times and lain 
 awake thinking about it, and wondering whether they were 
 mad at me, all night long, haven t you ? Uncle George says 
 I needn t worry, because Nathan wouldn t mind a bit if I 
 talked about chore-boys the whole livelong time but I m 
 always considerate of people s feelings. I think I can say that 
 much of myself anyhow. What ? Oh, yes, he s doing very 
 well, they say. Quite a practice for a young fellow." 
 
 Burke caught this exposition of Mrs. Ducey s views, 
 through the open parlor window as he sat with Francie on the 
 porch a summer evening; and both of them, lacking the pres 
 ence of mind to cough or otherwise give notice of their near 
 neighborhood, there they sat in some confusion throughout 
 the entire speech, delivered in Mrs. Ducey s clear and ring 
 ing tones. Little Francie s face was a fine red, her eyes 
 avoided Nat s, even when she saw the young man smiling 
 broadly. 
 
 "Aunt Anne doesn t that is, she she doesn t mean, 
 
CONTAINS BOTH PEACE AND WAR 307 
 
 Mr. Burke I mean " she faltered. Nathan looked at 
 her sweet, shy, distressed face with a sudden deep tenderness. 
 From the beginning he had felt like an elder brother to this 
 little girl. She was his first friend; he even had a fancy 
 that but for her he might never have been what he now was; 
 the kind little hands had a firm hold on his heart-strings. 
 And Francie grown-up, in long trains, with rosettes and lace 
 capes and artificial flowers and a dozen wonderful fal-lals, 
 was no different from Francie in pantalettes, with her thick 
 brown hair braided down her back, as wholesome, as grave, 
 straightforward, simple, and tender-hearted. He tried to tell 
 her something of this, awkwardly, yet secure of her sym 
 pathy if not of her understanding. 
 
 "Why, Francie," he said, forgetting the "Miss Blake " 
 with which he had schooled himself to address her; "you 
 didn t think I could be hurt by that talk of your aunt s ? 
 It s true I myself seldom talk about the time when I was 
 your uncle s hired man; but it seems to me it would be as 
 silly to ram that down, people s throats as it would be to be 
 ashamed of it. It makes me think of a story Jim Sharpless 
 tells about Geor about some fellow that told him he was 
 a gentleman. Sir, do you know I m a gentleman? says 
 this man. All right, that settles it, said Jim; when a 
 man tells you he s a gentleman, that ends the argument. 
 I haven t got anything more to say, sir! Now you tell 
 Mrs. Ducey, won t you, that she needn t fight shy of the 
 subject. I was her hired man. Amen. I m not any more. 
 I believe I m too good for a hired man but I m not going 
 to go around blowing about it one way or the other. People 
 always find their level, and end by being taken for what they 
 are. There there s hardly a person in the world that I d 
 talk to like this about myself except you- he added, a 
 little embarrassed, as he realized on a sudden the heat and 
 energy of his words. Francie made an abrupt movement. 
 
 "Is is that so, Nathan? Wouldn t you really?" she 
 asked. She had been playing with the pink ribbons of her 
 dress it may have been that very dress Jim had so ad 
 mired rolling them up and smoothing them out again; 
 and she now looked up quickly and very earnestly with her 
 eyes on the other s face. 
 
 "Of course it s so. You ve always understood even when 
 
308 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 you were a little thing there never will be anybody quite 
 the same to me as you, Francie you don t mind my telling 
 you that, do you ?" 
 
 "No, I I don t mind," said Francie in a small voice; 
 and leaned back with her face in the shadow of the vine. 
 
 "I never had a sister but I like to pretend that if I had, 
 she d be just like you, your age, and and just the way 
 you are," said Nat. "Don t you remember your quarter? 
 I ve got it still; I m going to keep it always. You once said 
 you d like me to when I was going away and wouldn t be 
 chore-boy any more do you remember that ? You were 
 always the dearest little girl, always!" 
 
 "Oh, you ve said that hundreds of times !" said Francie, 
 jumping up; "I m tired of of sitting here. I want to go 
 in where the others are let s go in!" 
 
 So they went in, Burke more or less worried at some inex 
 plicable change in her manner, and observing that she did, 
 in fact, look weary and out of spirits in the strong lamp 
 light. But she revived presently when Sharpless came in, 
 and was quite gay and vivacious for the rest of the evening. 
 Nat and his friend did not often meet at this house to which 
 the latter seemed so attracted, Burke preferring the parlor 
 and piano and society of another young lady, whom he 
 visited nowadays more frequently and with much more con 
 fidence than heretofore. Did Jim notice it? Somehow 
 or other her brother is the last person on earth in whom a 
 lover will confide. And although Nat had scarcely a thought 
 or plan which he did not talk over with Sharpless, he never 
 mentioned this dearest thought, this most cherished plan of 
 all. No; instead, Mr. Burke must hunt up an unfortunate 
 youth, that same young Lewis with whom he had made his 
 legal studies, and pour out to him all his hopes, fears, raptures. 
 In after years he blushed to recall this folly; hardly could he 
 recognize his own normally sober and taciturn character 
 under this obsession. He has sat in shame and admiring 
 astonishment, remembering the unfailing patience, and good- 
 humor, and serious attention with which the other received 
 him. It would seem as if a young man must talk at such a 
 time or burst, boil over with his frank and fervid egotism 
 I my me she! One trembles to figure what 
 might happen if he could not thus relieve himself; and un- 
 
CONTAINS BOTH PEACE AND WAR 309 
 
 luckily for Lewis, Mr. Nat could not, for obvious reasons, 
 employ his other close friend, Dr. Vardaman, as a safety- 
 valve. 
 
 Yet Jack was no longer to be regarded as a dangerous rival ; 
 he was some years the senior of us all, and fast becoming, 
 in the popular estimation, a settled old bachelor. Already 
 he displayed certain middle-aged tastes about his table, 
 his wine, his clothes. Jack Vardaman would never marry 
 anybody, people said, and they would pity the girl if he did; 
 he was just as set! But that old affair with Louise Gwynne 
 Louise Andrews six or seven years ago, that finished 
 Jack Vardaman; he d never look at another woman. He 
 liked to stay at home in the evenings, reading his worn, dog s- 
 eared, and be-pencilled copy of Horace, while Miss Clara 
 knitted tidies by the lamp on the other side of the mahogany 
 table, and the cat purred on the hassock between them. 
 They lived in great comfort ; the doctor spent a good deal of 
 money on his hobbies a trait which, of itself, indicated 
 that he had not the makings of a first-rate husband and family 
 man. He had cases of books sent out to him from Paris, 
 London, Amsterdam; and portfolios of beautiful steel- 
 engravings and prints "what he wants with them I m 
 sure I don t know," his sister said in gentle complaint; 
 "ever so many of the books are dreadful old things with 
 those worn-out leather bindings that come off in crumbs all 
 over his clothes he says they re first editions, you know, 
 and for all they re so shabby, it positively scares me to think 
 of the prices he pays for them. And those pictures have to 
 stay in the portfolios, Mr. Burke he won t hear of having 
 them framed such a job to dust and take care of ! Not 
 that I mind, of course; I love to do things for John," she 
 added hastily. 
 
 Miss Clara had got over all her first diffidence with Burke; 
 his companionship with the doctor, his frequent appearance 
 at her well-provided and always most beautifully appointed 
 table, the good-feeling manifested towards him by her poodle 
 and Angora all these things had gradually made a place 
 for him in her maidenly heart. He never came in without 
 carefully dusting off his boots he was punctual to the 
 moment when invited to a meal he took off his coat and 
 hung a picture for her he had such nice white teeth 
 
310 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 what higher recommendations could a young man need? 
 Burke, himself was genuinely fond of the doctor s sister, 
 who, for all her naivete and her odd little nervous ways, 
 was a kind and sensible -and not at all dull woman; and, 
 strange to say, much more tolerant of masculine practices 
 and peculiarities and faults than many an experienced wife 
 and mother. "I have my sister very well trained," Jack 
 used to say, sitting at his end of the table and looking over 
 the handsome silver and glassware to where Miss Clara 
 smiled at him from behind the urn; " observe, gentlemen: 
 she has no objection to the institution of the night-key, that 
 familiar bone of contention. She would let me keep my boots 
 on the parlor mantelpiece, if I wanted to. When I smash 
 my thumb-nail with the hammer and swear ferociously, she 
 merely remarks, Oh, dear ! and fetches the arnica 
 
 "You know you never swear, John!" cried out Miss Clara; 
 "it s just his fun, Mr. Sharpless. And besides, he was open 
 ing that last case of books and the hammer slipped and hurt 
 him dreadfully anybody would have sworn Jack couldn t 
 help it." 
 
 "She sees no harm in a drink or a game of billiards," 
 pursued Vardaman. " Is there a woman in this town of whom 
 you could say that?" 
 
 "Really, John, you ll make them think I m awful," said 
 Miss Vardaman, anxiously; "I know men oughtn t to 
 but, dear me, I ve done awfully bad things in my life, too 
 not drinking nor playing billiards, you know, but things 
 I oughtn t to have done, and 
 
 The doctor got up from his chair and went to her, and took 
 her pretty hand and kissed it with a grave bow and flourish. 
 "Take that, oh, very bad woman, you who spend your whole 
 life making me such a very good home," he said. " Gentlemen, 
 tell the truth: Did you ever see so happy a married couple?" 
 
 And as the friends paced home that night, smoking in 
 the pleasant summer darkness, they remarked to each other, 
 as they had many times before, that from one point of view 
 Vardaman would make a great mistake to marry. No wife 
 would give him his sister s worship, her unselfish devotion, 
 her tireless thought. But, to tell the truth, there seemed 
 to be very little prospect of marriage for either one of them. 
 Miss Clara would not have dreamed of deserting her brother, 
 
CONTAINS BOTH PEACE AND WAR 311 
 
 and it looked less and less likely that Jack would ever make 
 a change. 
 
 "I m so glad the doctor won t go to the war," she told 
 Burke one day; "at least he s promised me he won t I 
 made him promise me, and John always keeps his word!" 
 She was very much excited, with a bright color in her fading 
 cheeks; her knitting-needles rattled tremulously. Burke 
 looked at her in amazement and some perplexity. 
 
 " War ?" he said; "where ? what war ?" 
 
 "Why, with with Texas no, I mean it s Mexico, isn t 
 it, Mr. Burke ? Or with England anyway, Jack says it s 
 bound to come, so I made him promise he wouldn t enlist. 
 And Mr. Sharplese s sermon last Sunday you were there, 
 weren t you, I thought I saw you walking home with Mary 
 about * woe to them that devise iniquity, and about their 
 coveting the fields and taking them away by violence, was 
 just meant for Texas or the Mexicans or the English, I don t 
 know which, but everybody said so." She paused, out of 
 breath, knitting vehemently. 
 
 "Oh, well, we re not at war yet. I guess we d better not 
 cross that bridge till we come to it, had we?" said Burke, 
 amused. "Anyhow, it won t be with England, Miss Varda- 
 man; it will be with Mexico, and we won t have any trouble 
 licking them," said the young fellow, arrogantly, voicing the 
 supreme self-confidence of his day. 
 
 "But I thought they were saying all that about the Eng 
 lish wanting to fight us in in Mexico, on account of their 
 wanting to be annexed, you know," said poor Miss Clara, 
 helplessly; "I can t get it straight in my head somehow." 
 
 "No wonder. That s just all newspaper talk just 
 balderdash!" Burke explained contemptuously; "the 
 Texans do want to be annexed, there can t be any doubt 
 about that, and I shouldn t wonder if there d be trouble on 
 that account, maybe, not war, you know, but serious trouble. 
 But Great Britain would be neutral in any case. Don t 
 you remember that letter of the English Prime Minister, or 
 whatever his position is, Lord Aberdeen? Where he said 
 they d be glad to see Texas admitted if slavery were to be 
 done away with, but that England would keep out of it, 
 
 SeeMicahii. 1, 2. 
 
312 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 because it wasn t any of her affair words to that effect, 
 you know. He was perfectly honest and meant every word 
 of it, and I thought it was a fine letter," declared Mr. Burke, 
 with warmth; " we re all the time marching around with a 
 chip on our shoulder. " 
 
 "Why, no, you haven t any chip, Mr. Burke I m sure 
 I never saw anybody with a chip!" said Miss Clara, as 
 tounded; "I don t see how you could keep one there." 
 
 "I meant figuratively." 
 
 11 Oh, figuratively!" 
 
 " We re all the time marching around in front of England, 
 and suspecting her of all kinds of low, underhand tricks, 
 and the English are constantly doing very noble and manly 
 things like suppressing the slave-trade, for instance." 
 
 "Yes, I suppose so," assented the lady, rather tepidly; 
 "at least that s the way John talks but John knows. 
 Anyway the Oregon boundary fuss is all over, isn t it? 
 That s what mixed me up so about Texas. Last year every 
 body was wanting to fight England about Oregon. And 
 when it was settled, and they had signed all the treaties and 
 everything, I just thought, Well there! We won t hear 
 anything more about England for one while! And here 
 they began right away about England and Texas no, 
 Mexico no, Texas, isn t it ? So confusing ! John s not 
 going anyhow. Now just don t say anything for a minute, 
 will you, Mr. Burke? I might get interested, and lose my 
 place, you know, I have to count the stitches right here 
 one too many would throw the pattern all out of shape." 
 
 I dare say in hundreds of homes all over the land during 
 that winter and spring of 46, worried wives, mothers, and 
 sisters were exacting like promises from their restless men 
 folk. That cloud no larger than a man s hand, which has 
 done yeoman s duty in metaphor for generations, had ap 
 peared upon our horizon; it was spreading daily, daily grow 
 ing more black and menacing. It had threatened since San 
 Jacinto, since the Alamo, since Stephen Austin and the ear 
 liest settlers first set foot in Texan territory. I think, in 
 the very nature of things, in human nature, it was impossible 
 to avert this struggle; the Democratic triumph at the polls 
 in the last election proved if it proved nothing else 
 
CONTAINS BOTH PEACE AND WAR 313 
 
 the popularity of annexation measures, with war or without 
 it. The opposite party did not hesitate to heap obloquy 
 upon the heads of the President and his advisers, to warn, 
 rebuke, solemnly and righteously condemn; but if Polk and 
 the rest had been the apostles of peace and Quakerism, I do 
 not see how they could have refused the war. It is idle to 
 compare notes as to which nation began it, or whose was the 
 just quarrel; you may labor through a dozen histories, and 
 end with the conviction expressed in that sound and homely 
 old saying that the Pot called the Kettle black. When it 
 came to the point, which of us cared a jot for the blackness 
 of either the Pot or the Kettle ? The lust of fighting had been 
 born in us and strengthened apace ; f Nat Burke, with all his 
 talk about moderation and justice and common sense, was, 
 at the long last, just as eager for the bloody, hellish, foolish 
 business of war as the most rabid Democrat of them all, just 
 as indifferent to reason, just as impatient of argument or 
 compromise. The country was full of high-spirited, adven 
 turous, cock-sure boys ready to rush into the lists the moment 
 the trumpet should sound. I remember that the whole 
 previous summer, before Congress passed the Joint Resolu 
 tion and Texas entered the Union, before Taylor was ordered 
 to the Border, before General Almonte asked the govern 
 ment at Washington for his passports before and during 
 all these exciting events, but while we were as yet in an uncer 
 tainty how it all would end, there was a great increase of zeal 
 and enthusiasm manifest amongst all our militia bodies. There 
 was more marching and drilling, more study of the manual 
 of tactics and military manoeuvres (Cooper s, recommended 
 by the general-in-chief of the United States Army), more 
 serious play at soldiering. Had not George Ducey joined? 
 Mr. Burke joined, too, to the infinite amusement of his Demo 
 cratic friends. "What, thou too, Brutus!" said Sharpless, 
 in tragic accents, coming home and finding Nat s beautiful 
 new regimentals spread out on the bed, and this good, peace- 
 loving Whig contemplating them fondly; "then, Caesar, 
 fall !" said Jim and did fall upon his own bed in spasms 
 of whole-souled laughter. Nat grinned shamefacedly ; he 
 had just been elected captain of his company. 
 
 Somewhat to the disappointment, I will not say of Mr. 
 Burke, but of the fire-eaters who were clamoring for battle, 
 
314 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 there succeeded a sort of lull. To be sure, the President s 
 message contained some carefully worded intimations of 
 trouble existing ; but relations had not yet been broken off. 
 The internal affairs of our unfortunate neighbor were in vio 
 lent disorder and approaching a crisis ; much was to be 
 expected from the exertions of that eminent diplomatist, Mr. 
 John Slidell of whom, strange to say, none of us had ever 
 heard before who was upon the point of departure to open 
 negotiations with the Mexican Minister of Foreign Affairs, 
 Seilor de la Pena y Pena. Everything might yet be well. 
 "As for war with Mexico on our part, it is out of the ques 
 tion," said the Journal, editorially. "It would be coward 
 ice to strike a blow upon so weak and divided a foe, and folly 
 in the extreme to resort to arms when a let-alone policy 
 would accomplish all that ultra southern politicians may 
 desire. ... A few weeks, perhaps a few days, will tell 
 us what will be the end of this Mexican business." 
 
 Oh, wise editor, man of much foresight, the end was already 
 begun! As you sat at your ink-blurred table, turning off 
 copy with the boy waiting at your elbow, as you shoved the 
 wet sheets towards him, and got up and put off your mangy 
 old office-coat, white at all the seams and much rubbed along 
 the right sleeve, and horrid with paste and ink-stains, Santa 
 Anna, released from prison and exile, may have been landing. 
 As you assumed your respectable street garments, and 
 trudged home to Betsy and the children and the Irish stew 
 for dinner, the guns of a revolution were roaring, and Herrera 
 was in full flight, and Paredes reigned in his stead and 
 where was Pena y Pena? Where that eminent diplomatist 
 and dove of peace, Mr. John Slidell ? He had arrived in 
 Puebla on the eve of the dissolution ; three times he presented 
 his credentials, and was finally officially informed that the 
 Mexican Government (that stable institution!) "could not 
 admit him to the exercise of the functions conferred on him 
 by the Government of the United States." With this Peri a 
 y Pena disappears, and history reveals his name no more. 
 Herrera s administration was overthrown; in January, 
 Paredes, a military chief, was ushered by the troops into the 
 capital of Mexico, and a temporary government was formed 
 with General Almonte, late minister to the United States, at 
 its head or among its heads. Mr. Slidell retreated to 
 
CONTAINS BOTH PEACE AND WAR 315 
 
 Jalapa, whence he again attempted to obtain a hearing, 
 and again received an unequivocal denial, this time from 
 the new Minister of Foreign Affairs, Senor Costillo y Lanzas. 
 On March 8, 1846, the advance column of the United States 
 troops under Colonel Twiggs (the Second Regiment Dra 
 goons) was in motion from Corpus Christi towards the Rio 
 Grande; on the 18th the army reached the Arroyo Colorado; 
 on the 21st Senor Costillo y Lanzas enclosed to Mr. Slidell 
 his passports from the Mexican territories; on the 28th 
 General Taylor mounted his batteries before Matamoros. 
 
CHAPTER XXIII 
 THE GIRL I LEFT BEHIND ME 
 
 IT took all this stirring news much longer to reach us than 
 would appear from the summary; the editor of the Journal 
 and scores of other editors had plenty of time for their placid 
 prophesying. News from Texas was in the neighborhood 
 of three weeks upon the road to us in the more distant States ; 
 and it was received with surprise, perhaps with a lurking 
 dismay, in spite of the months, even years, of uneasiness and 
 violence, of protest and recrimination and popular outcry, 
 that had preceded it. We found it hard to credit. The 
 mind involuntarily pictures a country upon the eve of war 
 distracted with excitement, salvos firing, flags flaunting, 
 churches crowded with weeping petitioners, artillery rattling 
 through the streets, clamor of men and clangor of trumpets. 
 Instead of all that here we were peacefully going about our 
 business, reading the paper with a more lively interest per 
 haps, but -tranquilly predicting that there would be no war 
 almost up to the very last moment. In all our lives, young 
 and old, none of us could remember the time when any 
 body could say with certainty what might be happening in 
 the huge, dim, vacant West, so remote it was, unknown, 
 unconquered, sprinkled with dots like Sahara in our maps 
 and called the Great American Desert; there was always 
 fighting there or somewhere; it was natural, whether with 
 Indians or Mexicans; but war with ranked troops and cannon 
 bellowing across the hills we were slow to accept. That 
 spring the Scioto rose in its annual freshet, and swept away 
 the rail-fences on its banks, and drowned a hog or two, and 
 invaded the Bottoms; the red buds touched the gray woods 
 with color; the orchards bloomed prettily; Mrs. Ducey 
 gave Francie a party on her birthday and the house 
 was wreathed with dogwood blossoms; Mr. James Sharp- 
 less was drawn on the grand jury, and served much against 
 his will, but lacking a potent excuse; Mr. Nathan Burke 
 
 316 
 
THE GIRL I LEFT BEHIND ME 317 
 
 argued a case before the Court-in-Bank, and won it; and 
 the Journal " learned from the St. Louis Republican that 
 the following companies and officers of the 16th Regmt. 
 U. S. Infantry were under marching orders for Texas and 
 would leave as soon as possible: Lt. Col. Wilson, command 
 ing Company K, Bt. Major Abercrombie, etc." 
 
 It may even very well be that the echoes of Resaca de la 
 Palma had hardly died away, and the pursuit was still roll 
 ing backward to the Rio Grande, while Mr. Burke sat and 
 listened to "The Battle of Prague," a pleasant evening in 
 May, with the scent of the lilacs coming in at the windows 
 of the little parlor. Mary s light dress made a soft bright 
 blur by the piano ; she had lilac ribbons to match a spray 
 of the fresh flowers in her black hair ladies wore them in 
 those days. 
 
 "You are so fond of martial music, aren t you 1 , Mr. Burke ?" 
 
 "I don t know much about any kind of music, you know," 
 said the gentleman, with a laugh; "Jim and the doctor make 
 fun of me. But I like to hear you play anything you 
 know that." 
 
 "I heard Dr. Vardaman was going to build a house for 
 himself on that place he bought out by Governor Gwynne s, 
 after all," Mary said, arranging the music. "Do you sup 
 pose he means to get married ? Have you any idea who it 
 is?" 
 
 "Married? Jack? Oh, that s a mistake I don t think 
 he has the least notion of such a thing. He has been talking 
 about building. He says he means to have a regular man s 
 house he jokes a good deal about it, and Miss Clara is in 
 quite a state for fear he won t let her have any closets." 
 
 "So you think it s nothing but gossip ? I m very sorry. I 
 hoped it was true. He d be so much happier with a wife, 
 don t you think so? People said he d been attentive to 
 Jennie Hunter but she s engaged to Horace Gwynne now. 
 Jennie would have made a lovely doctor s wife. I m so 
 sorry. Shall I play something else, Mr. Burke? Here s 
 Handel Rinaldo - - I ll make war, and my foes I ll 
 conquer! You ought to like that. I believe you d go 
 and fight in Mexico, if you had the chance. You wouldn t 
 care how people felt about about seeing you go." 
 
318 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 "Why, yes, I d go I m just the kind that ought to go," 
 said Nat, honestly; "there isn t anybody depending on me, 
 or worrying about me, you know. My going wouldn t make 
 any difference to a soul on earth. Men without ties are the 
 very ones that ought to enlist." 
 
 "I I don t think you ought to talk that way it s not 
 true and it s not kind to to your friends," said Mary, in 
 a low voice. She looked at him, and away again hastily. 
 Were there tears in her eyes ? The next moment she began 
 to finger the piano-keys in those little preparatory runs and 
 trills that most players affect. "I ll play the Rinaldo. 
 Wouldn t you like to hear it ? Will you turn, please ?" 
 
 He got up and turned obediently; that is, he turned one 
 leaf; and then, standing over her, and looking down at her 
 face with the fair, almost pallid complexion, and features a 
 little delicately sharpened this last year or so, forgot every 
 thing else until the abrupt cessation of the music made him 
 start. 
 
 "What are you doing, idle man?" said Mary, lifting her 
 gray eyes at him with an archly severe expression. "Why 
 don t you turn ? If you were one of my pupils, I would rap 
 your knuckles. What are you thinking of ?" 
 
 "I was thinking of you," said Nat. 
 
 She started up, her white skirts and ribbons rustling and 
 fluttering, her eyes very wide and dark as they rested on the 
 young man s face where, perhaps, she saw some unwonted 
 or telltale expression; and put out one of her hands almost 
 appealingly. But Burke took it in his own, and held it 
 close. 
 
 "Mary "he 
 
 And I think the gray-haired individual who writes this 
 history will spare himself and everybody else a recital of 
 what followecl. He must be a strange sort of man who 
 relishes witnessing another man s love-making. I have 
 beheld upon the stage a thousand scenes of men and women 
 sighing and vowing and kissing and protesting I have 
 waded through countless novels where the sentimentalizing 
 monopolized two-thirds of one s time and I swear I never 
 did either without a profound embarrassment. I shrank 
 guiltily from spying upon their confidences; I felt as if I 
 
THE GIRL I LEFT BEHIND ME 319 
 
 were listening and peeping at the keyhole. Are these things 
 to be watched and exploited ? We had better beware of med 
 dling with all this sweet foolishness, else we shall destroy the 
 sweetness and have nothing left but the folly. My grandson 
 would no more care to read the tale of his grandfather s 
 sweethearting than he would enjoy having the old gentle 
 man pop in upon him and his Phyllis or Chloe at an interest 
 ing moment from which maladroit action, Heaven defend 
 us both! All that he needs or wants to know is that Mr. 
 Burke went home along the star-lit streets, a little later than 
 was his habit, very happy after his quiet fashion. He was 
 too happy, in fact, to go to bed at once, and sat down to 
 await the arrival of her brother Jim, in an arm-chair looking 
 out upon the roofs and chimney-pots and stars. It was not a 
 poetic vista, but Burke s thoughts were elsewhere; and no one 
 knows what pictures of a home, a family, a long, bright, endless 
 future Mrs. Slaney s shabby casement framed for him. He was 
 still sitting thus when the city clocks struck twelve, and he 
 heard at last Jim s foot on the stair; he came running up 
 boyishly, two steps at a time, and whirled into the room. 
 The walls shook as he banged the door, the flame of the lamp 
 leaped upon the wick. 
 
 11 Nat, have you heard it? Have you heard the news? 
 No I forgot! Of course you can t have heard. The 
 letters just came into the office I left em working like 
 beavers at an extra 
 
 " Heard what? What under the sun has happened?" 
 Burke asked, wondering. 
 
 "Why, it s come! War, I mean, war, Nathan B., war! 
 We might have known we couldn t get out of it. Look here ! " 
 he snatched a roll of papers from his pockets and spread them 
 crackling under the light. " I scratched off a copy. It s from 
 the Galveston News they ve had fighting, Nat. Not bush 
 whacking around in corners, you know, but fighting. Look 
 here, it s dated the thirtieth of last month, and this is May 
 the what, do you know ?" 
 
 "The eleventh it s the eleventh," said Nat, himself 
 excited. 
 
 "They d had fighting down there where Taylor is already 
 when this was written, and they must have had more since. 
 Read that : 
 
320 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 LATEST NEWS 
 
 MEXICANS OPEN HOSTILITIES!!! 
 
 WAR NOW INEVITABLE!!!! 
 
 We learn that on the 24th inst. Gen l Taylor ordered Capt. 
 S. B. Thornton of the 2d dragoons with a detail of 61 men 
 to make a reconnoissance at the crossing of the river (Bravo 
 del Norte) above Ft. Brown. Accompanying Capt. Thorn 
 ton were Capt. Hardee, Lieutenants Mason and Kane. Ac 
 cording to the latest and most trustworthy reports at a 
 point about thirty miles above the American camp, they 
 were surprised by a large force of Mexicans, and after the 
 loss of 16 men killed and wounded, compelled to surrender. 
 The action took place in a plantation surrounded by a thick 
 chaparral fence, the enemy out-numbering Thornton s 
 command at least ten to one, it is stated. Lieutenant 
 Mason fell mortally wounded at the first fire ; it has been 
 impossible so far to obtain definite details, but it is sup 
 posed that about ten or a dozen escaped, the Mexicans tak 
 ing twenty-five or more prisoners, among them Thornton 
 and Kane. We hope to publish a list of the killed, 
 wounded, and missing within a few days. . . . 
 
 It had come, sure enough. " There s an end of all the blow 
 ing and coat-tail-dragging, and face-making, and you re-an- 
 other-ing," said Jim; "only think, they may be hard at it, 
 hammer-and-tongs this minute !" 
 
 "Shouldn t wonder. We ought to get a map, and find 
 out where some of these places are," Burke said, studying 
 the papers; "Bravo del Norte is just another name for the 
 Rio Grande, I guess. But what on earth is chaparral, do 
 you suppose?" 
 
 "Some kind of a thorny plant, cactus or something, 1 
 think. Are you going Nat ? If they call for volunteers, I 
 mean? You ve always said you d go." 
 
 Burke started. Was he going ? Why, yes, of course 
 and yet he hesitated, looking at his friend shyly, almost 
 timidly. "Yes, I ll go at least I ought to go, only it s 
 a little different now," he said, and swallowed uneasily, red 
 dening. 
 
 "Hey, different?" 
 
THE GIRL I LEFT BEHIND ME 321 
 
 "I I was going to tell you some some news, too, Jim, 
 only I you began first with this I 
 
 "What is it?" said Jim, unsuspectingly. He had drawn 
 a chair to the table and was leaning over the despatches, 
 with his head propped between his hands. "What did you 
 say, Nat?" 
 
 " I m going to to be married." 
 
 Sharpless looked up abruptly; their eyes met in a brief 
 silence. "Married?" 
 
 "Not at once, of course, I don t mean that I I m not 
 making quite enough for that yet, but I will in a year or so, 
 I guess. I m engaged, though," said Nat, blushing with a 
 silly delight in the statement. "Can t you guess who it is ?" 
 
 Jim s face paled strangely; he rose, leaning his weight on 
 the table, braced upon his hands. The motion was like that 
 of an old man; he cleared his throat. "I I it s Miss 
 Blake, I suppose, Nat of course, it s Miss Blake." 
 
 "Francie?" said Burke, in surprise and a faint disappoint 
 ment; "why, no what made you think of her? It s 
 I don t know why you don t know, Jim I ve never looked 
 at any other girl to be sure I never spoke of it to you, 
 but I I couldn t somehow it s your sister it s Mary." 
 
 There was another flat and somehow disconcerting silence. 
 "Mar?//" repeated Jim, vacantly; "my sister Mary?" 
 
 "Yes. Why do you look so?" said Nat, hurt. He 
 scarcely knew what he had expected, but certainly not this. 
 "Haven t you got anything to say to me, Jim? Aren t 
 you don t you like it ? Aren t you a little glad ?" 
 
 The other s face flushed all over; the tears came into his 
 eyes. He kicked the chair noisily away from him and ran 
 up to Burke and grasped his two hands. "Why, Nat, glad! 
 Of course I m glad. I was only taken aback for a minute. 
 I m such a dunce I never noticed it never noticed anything, 
 you know. But glad ! Still, I couldn t care more for you 
 even if you were my brother twice over, Nat, you know 
 that!" 
 
 And the next day, Burke had his second interview with the 
 Reverend Mr. Sharpless, which passed off not ill; and with 
 Mrs. Sharpless, who was very kind, and called him her dear 
 boy in a rather trembling voice, reaching up to pat his 
 shoulder, being on the whole, as the young man remarked 
 
322 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 inwardly with some perplexity, in an inexplicable way, more 
 sweet and tender with him than Mary herself. The news of 
 the engagement being spread abroad, various others came 
 and shook hands with him impressively; and Jack Vardaman 
 congratulated him heartily in a tone that left no possible 
 doubt of his sincerity and disinterestedness; but, after all, 
 there was comparatively little notice taken of the event, for, 
 at the time, Nat s world had something else upon its mind. 
 However ignorant we may have been of the Mexican 
 country and people when the news of Thornton s brush 
 with the enemy reached us, there was no dearth "of infor 
 mation and statistics afterwards. Maps were as plentiful as 
 blackberries in August; they were published in every paper, 
 sold in every shop, carried in every pocket; almost any 
 body could tell you offhand the exact location of Point 
 Isabel (where our troops would probably be landed, in case 
 ?); of Matamoros (twenty-seven miles southwest from 
 Point Isabel); of Corpus Christi, whence the army had 
 marched. George Ducey was especially strong on these 
 figures and calculations, and knew precisely what General 
 Taylor s next move ought to be. The New Orleans Picayune 
 came out with a list, " which might be valuable for reference," 
 of the area and population of all the states comprised in the 
 Estados Unidos Mexicanos; it was widely copied, and the 
 figures might have been alarming, if any of us had stopped to 
 consider them; but we struggled awhile with the unfamiliar 
 syllables - - Guanaxuato Coahuila Tamaulipas and 
 cast them aside in impatience and contempt. All that we 
 cared about was news direct and hot from the scene itself; 
 there had been more fighting, there must have been more 
 fighting, and how had we fared ? We believed in our hearts 
 that one American was equal to half a dozen Mexicans; 
 nevertheless Taylor had only four thousand men no, only 
 twenty-five hundred no well, whatever it was, he had 
 only a handful, whereas General Arista on the other side of 
 the Rio Grande might draw on those entire Estados Unidos 
 Mexicanos which lay, in a manner of speaking, at his elbow. 
 We might have been in some uncertainty and apprehension, 
 but that spirit surely inherited, however remotely and how 
 ever diluted, from the Anglo-Saxon, that serene, confident, 
 sanguine spirit of the dominant race, upheld us. It was in- 
 
THE GIRL I LEFT BEHIND ME 323 
 
 conceivable that a parcel of half-breed Spanish, Mexicans, 
 Indians, what-not (thus we scornfully imagined them), with 
 a general whom probably not one-third of them would obey, 
 could beat and keep on beating United States soldiers under 
 a man like old Zack Taylor, a seasoned officer, a veteran of 
 1812, the hero of a score of fights from Fort Harrison to the 
 Everglades. "I do not feel much anxiety about Gen l 
 Taylor s position," wrote old General Felix Huston, from 
 Port Huron; "I think he will lose more horses than men. 
 I cannot think, with good generalship, the Mexicans can 
 defeat him. I have not the highest opinion of the material 
 of his army, but I will gamble on it they do not whip him. 
 . . . The fact is, an American volunteer army, composed 
 of clerks and loafers, mechanics and fiddlers, farmers and 
 flatboat-men, backwoodsmen and city dandies, can fight any 
 people on any ground; and from Daniel Boone down to the 
 present time, they have beat Indians and Mexicans in all 
 kinds of brush and logs, everglades and chaparrals. 
 . . . Those d d chaparrals stick in my craw. As 
 soon as I heard the regular army officers talking about 
 chaparrals, I thought, charge Uncle Sam with $40,000 
 for chaparrals ! It puts me in mind of everglades and 
 hummocks. Every place where 300 baggage-wagons can 
 not get along has some d d hard name." 
 
 This stout old warrior, sitting down to give vent to the 
 above opinions with his unaccustomed pen, offers to Burke s 
 mind a singularly humorous, spirited, and agreeable picture; 
 and his letter somehow puts before one more vividly than 
 any words of this historian the temper of our time. Beat 
 them ? Of course we should beat them ! We could beat them 
 with one hand tied behind us ! But, in the meanwhile, what 
 was happening ? In a day or two, Taylor s letter, written 
 three or four weeks back, calling on the governor of Louisi 
 ana for troops, was published; so that there could hardly 
 be a doubt that some of the clerks, loafers, backwoodsmen, 
 and dandies had had a chance to display their prowess before 
 this. The general recommended General P. F. Smith to 
 command these gentry; he subjoined a plan for the organiza 
 tion of the volunteer regiments. Fellow-citizens ! To arms ! 
 "Texans, you have at last an opportunity of retaliating on 
 these perfidious Mexicans the many injuries they have done 
 
324 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 you !" There was renewed and very great activity 
 amongst our militia bodies. The Montgomery Guards, the 
 German military companies, drilled feverishly; Captain 
 Burke s command made brilliant progress; Lieutenant 
 Ducey stalked around breathing out fire and slaughter. 
 I should not have liked to be the Mexican to come within 
 reach of George s doughty arm; he would have had to get 
 briskly about his heathenish Mexican prayers. It was a 
 Monday morning that Mr. Burke, not having seen the paper 
 as yet, was stepping along towards his office when at the 
 corner of State and High streets he encountered a crowd 
 so numerous and unusual for that comparatively early 
 hour that he paused to reconnoitre it reconnoitre being 
 the word that sprang spontaneously before his mind and 
 made him smile. " We re getting very military," he thought, 
 and pushed up to a place whence he could see that the cause 
 of detention was not two men fighting or one man having a 
 fit, but a bill already posted high up. The artist who had ac 
 complished this work was departing with his ladder and paste- 
 pail and brushes, and a roll of similar bills under his arm. 
 " Going to enlist, Sam ?" some one sung out, waving an arm 
 at an acquaintance over the hats and shoulders. " You bet ! " 
 Burke raised on tiptoe and craned his neck to read: 
 
 "Whereas, the Congress of the United States by virtue of 
 the Constitutional Authority vested in them have declared 
 . . . that by the act of the Republic of Mexico, a state of 
 war exists between that government and the United States. 
 Now, therefore, I, James K. Polk, President of the United 
 States, do hereby proclaim the same . . . enjoin all persons 
 holding civil or military authority ... to be vigilant and 
 zealous ..." 
 
 Burke walked away meditatively, and found the Journal 
 at his door with a wailing editorial on the general war in which 
 the President had unwarrantably involved the country. 
 "But the mischief is done now. Let nothing prevent the 
 Whigs from doing their whole duty in the defence of the 
 country it is enough that our flag is in danger the 
 article continued in that mood of pious resignation which a 
 paper of good Whig principles must adopt and blithely 
 went to discussing the probable size of Ohio s quota of troops 
 in the next column ! In another day we had news of the bom- 
 
THE GIRL I LEFT BEHIND ME 325 
 
 bardment and fall of Matamoros, and of the victories of Palo 
 Alto and Resaca; and Governor Bartley issued his call for 
 volunteers. 
 
 Nat Burke was one of the first to respond to that invita 
 tion. The young man was not by nature impulsive; he 
 had his reckless and visionary moments, but a sober second 
 thought generally corrected them. And when he went and 
 enrolled himself and took the oath before the United States 
 Army officers who were in charge of the enlistments, it was 
 with no brilliant images of glory and valor and renown; 
 he thought he was performing a natural, proper, and dutiful 
 act, for the simple reasons he had given his betrothed. It 
 was no surrender of his legal career, which he meant to resume 
 upon his return. And if he did not return but you and 
 I know that it is always the other fellow who is going to be 
 killed. I do not remember that Burke ever gave any more 
 consideration to that possibility during his military expe 
 rience than he did at any other time of his life. Who, aside 
 from misanthropes and hypochondriacs, ever deliberately 
 sits down to contemplate his death and fading hours ? Why, 
 nobody, not even those warily devout people who are forever 
 preaching these things at us ! Mr. Burke made arrange 
 ments with his friend Lewis to take over his business and 
 went about his preparations with a kind of placid zest. 
 For one instant, as we have seen, he hesitated, thinking of 
 Mary, but it was only for an instant. And, to tell the truth, 
 the young lady herself received the announcement of his 
 resolution with comparative calm which, inconsistently 
 enough, Burke a little resented. If Mary had burst into tears 
 and flung herself into his arms, he would have felt a little 
 foolish, yet still been obscurely pleased. The most modest 
 and least self-assertive of men likes to be a hero to his women- 
 kind yes, even when he laughs at their absurd unwar 
 ranted admiration, he is secretly tickled. But Mary gave 
 way to no such hysterical demonstrations; Burke was 
 struck, as he had been once or twice before in his life, with 
 the extraordinary difference in women, whom we serenely 
 assume to be all of one pattern. Little Francie Blake had 
 hung on his neck with wild tears when he was only going away 
 a step. Of course she was nothing but a child, and she would 
 not do such a thing now; but she might exhibit quite as much 
 
326 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 emotion over his departure as the girl he was engaged to, 
 without indecorum. Mary was almost as much elated and 
 excited as the young fellows who were enlisting right and left 
 in these few weeks. 
 
 "I wish I could go, too if I were a man, I would go," 
 she said with brilliant eyes. "I believe I ll cut off my hair 
 and go as as a First Musician. I could get that position 
 I know couldn t I ? They re paid fifteen dollars a month 
 - 1 saw it in the paper two of em to every regiment. 
 I ll enlist with yours, Nathan. The musicians wear red 
 coats with white linings and turnbacks, and a white worsted 
 plume in their caps. Don t you think that would be becom 
 ing to me, sir ? Don t you think I d make a fine figure of a 
 soldier ? " She paraded up and down the room with an erect 
 and martial carriage, blowing on an imaginary trumpet, and 
 casting provoking side-glances at him, until Burke caught 
 and kissed her on her pretty mouth conveniently puckered 
 for the trumpet-blowing. The young gentleman had gone 
 a good way from his original post of tremulous suppliant, 
 it will be observed. I do not think Mary encouraged him; 
 she submitted to his caresses without any vulgar scuffling, 
 yet without returning them. And if Burke felt vaguely 
 that a little more warmth in her smile or eyes would have 
 somehow seemed more natural or gratifying, he yet admired 
 her very coolness and self-command. He liked her the better 
 for it, he told himself; and, at any rate, he was the only 
 man she had ever cared for she said so. And no one had 
 ever kissed her before no ! 
 
 The declaration of war and subsequent action of Congress 
 in voting men and means occasioned no flurry on the New 
 York Stock Exchange so Burke heard from old Mr. Marsh 
 yet the excitement all over the country was now blazing 
 high. All kinds of rumors spread from the seat of war. 
 Arista was retreating with his forces cut to pieces; Arista 
 was a prisoner, with General La Vega and their families, 
 and they were already on their way to New Orleans; Santa 
 Anna had been put in command and was advancing ; Taylor 
 was fortified at Matamoros; Taylor had gone to Saltillo 
 with the army. Private letters from officers who had been 
 in the fight at Palo Alto began to pour in; Burke heard 
 many such read aloud by somebody standing on a chair 
 
THE GIRL I LEFT BEHIND ME 327 
 
 above the crowd in the bar-room, or coffee-house. ". . . 
 Their dinners were on the fire, cooking, and answered for 
 ours. ..." " . . . Our battalion followed at a run in 
 pursuit six miles to the ferry. . . ." " The Mexican muskets 
 were all marked George IV or Rex, Tower " 
 
 "Good Gracious!" ejaculates Nat, thinking of his own 
 respectable heirloom hanging over the chimney-piece at 
 Mrs. Slaney s. 
 
 "Poor Ringgold was buried to-day with all the honors of 
 war. It s a dreadful loss to the service. The wound was in the 
 groin; when he fell he called out, Never mind me, boys ! Go 
 ahead! . . . "The general behaved most gallantly. In 
 the second battle he was more exposed than any one else; 
 and there he sat part of the time giving his orders with his leg 
 cocked over the pommel of the saddle. ..." The reader 
 has to stop for the cheering. Hurrah for old Rough-and- 
 Ready! Three times three! 
 
 The enlistments were so heavy at all the various points in 
 our State that before long it became a matter of great anxiety 
 amongst all these brave lads as to who was to be allowed to 
 go. Ohio was called upon for only three regiments; and 
 though that would amount to nearly three thousand men, it 
 was evident the applicants would exceed that number. 
 Somebody would have to stay at home distracting 
 thought ! The war would be over in a few months, weeks 
 perhaps it might be over now, for that matter and the 
 one chance of the century would be lost! Of course, the 
 militiaman, having, presumably, already had some prac 
 tice in drill and the handling of weapons, would be preferred 
 to the detached youth with a taste for adventure and no 
 experience. To be sure he could enlist in the United States 
 Army for the regular term of years; but, generally speaking, 
 he didn t want to do that. If he happened to be or think 
 himself a gentleman, he naturally would choose the volunteer 
 service and a chance by some wire-pulling to get himself 
 an officer s commission, rather than serve his country as a 
 plain private. From this arose dire worry; yet Burke held 
 on his way undisturbed in a certainty that it would not fall 
 to his lot to be among the siftings. The process, by the way, 
 appeared to go neither by justice nor by favor nor anything 
 but blind luck. Two men were desirous of working in the field ; 
 
328 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 the one was taken and the other left, nobody knew why, 
 least of all, apparently, those who made the selection. The 
 German companies were declined on account of the inability 
 of the rank and file to understand English a great mistake, 
 to Burke s notion. They would have learned soon enough, 
 and were the very stuff for soldiers, sturdy, patriotic, and 
 with an instinctive appreciation of the value of discipline 
 and massed strength. Nat was not disappointed; he and his 
 company, and Captain Walworth with his, and the Mont 
 gomery Guards in a body were drafted into the First Ohio 
 very shortly after their arrival at Camp Washington, outside 
 of Cincinnati, where the volunteers from all over the State had 
 their rendezvous; Mitchell was their colonel, a West Point 
 man. 
 
 But before that momentous event took place, we had six 
 weeks of frenzied preparation. Nothing further appeared 
 to be happening on the Rio Grande, but the popular fever 
 did not abate. Biographies of Taylor, of Scott, who was 
 at this time in Washington, doing a great deal of talking and 
 writing, of Kearny and Doniphan, of Brown, who had so 
 gallantly defended his poor little fort (a successor, but vic 
 torious, to Crockett. Hurrah! Remember the Alamo!), of 
 Ringgold and Thornton, came out at least once a week in the 
 papers. Generals Wool and Worth passed through on their 
 way to their commands. A Colonel Croghan was appointed 
 inspector-general of the volunteer troops. "Croghan? 
 That must be little GeorgieV son," said Burke to himself. 
 There were yard-long lists of the presidential commissions 
 issued every day; exact and most prolix instructions as to 
 the organization and equipment of the regiments. If we 
 were privates, we were to get forty rounds of ammunition 
 and two flints apiece served out to us at the United States 
 Army depot at Baton Rouge, when we passed there on our way 
 to New Orleans and the Gulf. If officers, like our friends 
 Captain Burke and Lieutenant Ducey, we were to wear a 
 dark blue cloth coat with two rows of silver or plated buttons 
 (minutely described), with a standing collar, a plain round 
 cuff, 2 loops 4| inches long on each side of the collar-opening, 
 etc. We had to have winter trousers of light-blue mixture 
 cloth and summer ditto of white linen or cotton. A black 
 beaver cap 1\ inches high with a patent-leather band and 
 
THE GIRL I LEFT BEHIND ME 329 
 
 peak was prescribed for our heads ; we were allowed our 
 choice of a black leather or silk stock, and of ankle or Jef 
 ferson" style boots. George Ducey could have recited all 
 these details in his sleep; if getting ready could make a 
 soldier of a man, George would have been the best that ever 
 went in shoes ankle or Jefferson ! I am sure there was 
 not in our whole regiment, State, or army a better-dressed 
 or more dashing volunteer, or a more ferocious enemy of 
 Mexico. He let his mustache grow, and presented so fierce 
 and warlike an appearance in our streets that he was notice 
 able even in this excited time. Mrs. Ducey, without a 
 doubt, spent her days in planning impossible comforts for 
 his kit, and her nights in weeping over the dark future. I 
 fear nobody else viewed George s departure with a very keen 
 regret; he was not popular even in that fashionable circle 
 of which he was so distinguished an ornament, and if people 
 respected the spirit he displayed in enlisting, they none the 
 less wondered at it in George Ducey. It was natural enough 
 that he should have joined the militia and decked himself 
 with epaulets and flourished a sword in the late piping times 
 of peace; but Burke, remembering certain not altogether 
 heroic scenes in which George had borne a leading part, 
 was privately a good deal amused and scornful. " He thinks 
 he ll come back a brigadier-general at the very least," Nat 
 said to Sharpless, laughing; "it takes much hardtack and 
 cold bacon and sore feet and sleeping in the open to say 
 nothing of a few other desirable qualifications to make 
 a brigadier-general, I guess. And somehow I don t see 
 George on the march and in the camp any more than I see 
 him on the pitched field for that matter. But he s a curious 
 mixture you never can tell." 
 
 "Huh!" Jim grunted. He disdained to canvass George s 
 prospects; but remarked after a moment s silence: "You 
 talk like an old stager, Nat. Anybody might think you d 
 made a dozen campaigns." 
 
 "I think it s born in me," Burke said. "It s not so much 
 that I used to camp out and follow the trail so often with 
 Darnell when I was a boy, and listen to his wild old stories 
 it s not that, though that must have something to do with it. 
 It s something else it s in the blood, I think. There s 
 an old battered ex-army-sergeant that is, he says he was 
 
330 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 a sergeant in our quartermaster s department that 1 
 watched for a while the other day, trying to show one of the 
 men how to pack a mule the man boggling along with 
 everything sliding all over, camp-kettle one way, coffee-mill 
 the other, in a terrible mess mule backing and sidling 
 sergeant swearing fit to raise your hair! I went out and 
 roped the whole business up tolerably shipshape in a minute 
 or two. I don t know that it would have stayed very long 
 on the march, but the sergeant was tremendously compli 
 mentary. l You ve seen service before, sir, I reckon/ says he, 
 I ve been used to horses and harness since I was a little tad, 
 you know I m kind of handy with em. Perhaps I ve got 
 a long string of barbarous ancestors, trappers, hunters, rough- 
 and-ready soldiers God He knows who or what they were. 
 If the governor doesn t take us, I ll enlist with some body of 
 riflemen in the regular service. I shoot better with a rifle 
 than with this pistol we have to carry. But I think probably 
 we ll be taken." 
 
 It was a warm June night, the night before we marched, 
 when Mr. mercy, I beg his pardon! when Captain 
 Burke delivered himself of these beliefs, sitting with his 
 friend, and smoking a last pipe together in their room, one 
 on either side of the window with their heels on the sill. 
 Nat s portmanteau had already gone forward with the com 
 pany luggage; there on a chair lay his uniform neatly folded, 
 his sword stood in the comer. The day before, gallantly 
 arrayed, he and the seventy-odd men of his command had 
 marched out to the Ducey home; and there before the 
 front porch, where the customary summer crop of young 
 ladies bloomed in pretty organdies and Swisses, drawn up at 
 " parade rest, " with their captain in the van, a brave show of 
 blue coats and white trousers (linen or cotton), they had 
 received a beautiful flag embroidered and bullion-fringed, 
 presented by the Ladies Aid Society of Trinity Church 
 through Miss Frances Blake. Francie could hardly hold 
 upright the big staff with its weight of drooping banner ; she 
 was very much agitated, spoke in a low, tremulous voice, 
 and may have forgot the most of her speech, for all that 
 Burke heard of it was the single sentence: a Captain, in con 
 sideration of your distinguished valor and patriotism, we 
 present you this flag," with which the emblem was handed 
 
THE GIRL I LEFT BEHIND ME 331 
 
 over to him. The valorous and patriotic captain himself 
 was somewhat confused, and the few words he managed 
 to stammer out bore no slightest resemblance either to what 
 he had meant to say, or to the magnificently appropriate 
 sentiment credited to him by the morning paper: "So long 
 as life nerved his arm, or his heart beat high with hope, that 
 flag should never be disgraced!" You may see it this mo 
 ment, rolled up and ticketed with a score of others behind 
 glass doors in the collection at the State House. After the 
 solemnity was over, we broke ranks, and officers and men 
 " partook of an elegant collation," served by the flounced 
 and ribboned regiment themselves; there were lemonade and 
 rich cakes and coffee and jellies and frozen creams, and a 
 great deal of hospitality and brave smiling, and, I dare say, 
 some aching hearts. When Jim said that Miss Blake looked 
 like an angel. Burke acquiesced heartily if a little absently; 
 he was thinking of his own angel, who had been there, too, 
 wearing a garnet brooch and ear-rings which the young 
 fellow had given her, and looking very fresh and sprightly 
 in spite of the anxiety she must have felt for him. Mary was 
 braver than most women, he thought; she had a spirit like 
 that of Rebecca in "Ivanhoe." Nevertheless, he liked to 
 think that she had shed a few tears against his gilt buttons 
 when he had held her tight at their final parting an hour 
 ago but had she ? She had stoutly told him she was re 
 solved not to be foolish. Mrs. Sharpless, on the other hand, 
 who was fond of him, and of a firm will too, had broken down 
 and sniffed and sobbed. And now, as they sat together, Jim 
 broke a long silence by saying with something of an effort: 
 
 "I suppose, Nat, if I were a Christian, I should say, God 
 bless you!" 
 
 "The wish is the same no difference what words you 
 say it in, it seems to me," said Burke. 
 
 And they sat for another long while in silence, each think 
 ing, no doubt, that all our belief, and all our religion, and all 
 our hope of immortality comes to no more than this in the 
 end: "Oh, remember me a little when the grass is green over 
 me! Think of me sometimes kindly!" 
 
 The next day our volunteers marched. It was early, but 
 the town turned out to see them go, and the sidewalks were 
 
332 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 packed and there was vigorous cheering. The sun winked 
 on the window-panes, where all the green-painted shutters 
 were flung back, and many heads thrust forth; there were 
 more ribbons and white skirts on the balconies and porches; 
 the little old-fashioned hundred-leaf roses were in multitudi 
 nous bloom above the white palings. Market-wagons and 
 drovers pulled up at the crossings as the troops marched by; 
 the maids hanging out clothes in the yards or scrubbing steps 
 dropped everything and ran to the street. Children tumbled 
 out of bed with their frowzy heads and small night-dresses; 
 people jumped up from the breakfast table and left the coffee 
 pot cooling. Here they come! Rub-a-dub-dub, the drum 
 and likewise tweedle-eedle-eedle, the fife! "The Girl I 
 Left Behind Me! " There is a kind of heart-breaking gayety 
 about this old tune. Here they come, very fresh, natty, and 
 jaunty, very young, strong, and light-hearted, very confident 
 of fame, honors, rewards, and the girl I left behind me ! 
 Rub-a-dub-dub tweedle-eedle ee! That stout young 
 ster in the front rank with his flushed face, his eager eyes, 
 with all his visions of war and conquest, Arabian Nights 
 palaces, senoritas Mejicanas, perhaps dear me, why not ? 
 We didn t all leave girls behind us ! that boy died of a 
 sunstroke the day after we landed. I have forgot his name; 
 we buried him there in the sand at Brazos Santiago, and the 
 sea is very loud above his grave. That other young fellow 
 with the ploughman walk, carrying our new flag so proudly 
 with his white cotton gloves wrinkling off his finger-ends, 
 and the perspiration glimmering in all the creases of his 
 honest sunburnt neck he got a shot in the throat and fell 
 just in front of me that time we charged the Teneria; he 
 came from my part of the country, some relation of old Pas- 
 coe, I think. Hurrah, hurrah! Good-by, Jack; good-by, 
 Jill! It s forty years since you parted, may you rest well! 
 Old Nat Burke will go and smoke a pipe in the chimney- 
 corner; and having seen War, will thank his God for Peace. 
 
 One young person rose early with the rest of the world 
 that morning; but, evading the others of her family, ran 
 away and reached a corner where she posted herself at the 
 top of a flight of steps, alongside a worthy Irish body who had 
 just been engaged with a pail and broom in sluicing them 
 
THE GIRL I LEFT BEHIND ME 333 
 
 down. "It s looldn fr y r swatehearrt ye ll be afther?" she 
 said sympathetically; "well, it s nayther chick n r child I ve 
 got among thim poor byes, but I feel sorry fr thim just th 
 same," and indeed she wept profusely and adjured the Vir 
 gin as they came by. The young person said nothing; her 
 eyes ached as she scanned the lines the Montgomery 
 Guards the Harrison Grays Captain Walworth on 
 horseback Captain Burke marching at the head of his 
 men. He did not look around ; he did not see her; and pres 
 ently the sound of the music died away. 
 
PAET II 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 THE MAIL-BAG 
 
 The Hon ble Samuel Gwynne to 
 
 Messrs. Wylie & Slemm, 
 Cincinnati, Ohio. 
 
 July 15, 1846 
 
 Messrs. Wylie & Slemm, 
 GENTLEMEN : 
 
 Your letter of the 13th. inst. has been rec d. In reply I 
 beg to state that I have known a Mr. Nathan Burke of this 
 city for some years, and while I am not acquainted with the 
 place or circumstances of his birth, or the names of his par 
 ents, I believe him to be the young man about whom you 
 inquire, as there is no other Nathan Burke to my knowledge 
 in our city. 
 
 Mr. Burke is now, I should judge, about twenty-five years 
 of age which corresponds with your conjecture and has 
 probably lived here upwards of ten years, being engaged for 
 the last four in the practice of Law. Previous to that as 
 you correctly state he studied for a year or more in my 
 office, which I may say without undue complacency, has 
 always been open to honest and ambitious talent, however 
 poor or modest its externals. Mr. Burke appeared to me to 
 possess in a marked degree, prudence, integrity and good 
 sense; he bears the best of reputations in our community. 
 Although unable to furnish them myself, I do not doubt that 
 the details of his earlier years will be easily discoverable; 
 your sources of information seem to be unusually reliable, 
 and the young man s whole life, I am confident, has been 
 passed in this section of the country. 
 
 Respectfully, 
 
 334 
 
THE MAIL-BAG 335 
 
 (copy) 
 
 Archer Lewis, Esq., to 
 
 Captain N. Burke 
 First Regmt. O. V. I. 
 
 Point Isabel, Mexico. July 15, 46 
 
 DEAR BURKE, 
 
 The enclosed letter 1 came into the office this morning; 
 and though it is marked private I opened it according to our 
 agreement. I hadn t gone very far, of course, before I saw 
 that it was of a strictly personal nature; and not knowing ex 
 actly how important it might be to you, took a copy for safety 
 and future reference, and am now forwarding the original. 
 Also wrote Messrs Wylie & Slemm explaining your where 
 abouts, and that I myself couldn t give them any reliable 
 information, beyond the fact that your mother s maiden- 
 name was certainly Mary Granger, as they themselves seem 
 to know already; and wound up by referring them to Pascoe 
 and Williams as the only people I knew of who would be 
 likely to remember your family or could speak with any 
 sort of authority about your mother and father. Afterwards 
 up at the Court-House this afternoon, I met McCormick and 
 Townley whom you recall they are both up here on cases 
 and another Cincinnati man named Hammond, editor of 
 the " Gazette," I think, and put a few inquiries about the 
 firm of Wylie & Slemm, thinking they were all men actively 
 engaged in business and likely to know everybody ; but none 
 of them knew anything about W. & S. It s funny, if they had 
 been a month or so more forehanded with their questions they 
 might have caught you at Camp Washington when you were 
 there with the troops. They seem to be rather mysterious 
 and secretive, judging from the tone of their letter. If you 
 find you re the long-lost heir to the earldom, like the fellows 
 in Scott, don t get shot without making your will first and 
 remembering your humble friends and business associates. 
 
 All well and everything as usual in the old town. I saw 
 Her on the street the other day, but only to bow to; she 
 looked all right. 
 
 Faithfully yours, 
 
 A. B. LEWIS. 
 
 1 Neither the original letter nor copy could be found; they were 
 probably destroyed. M. S. W. 
 
336 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 James Sharpless, Esq., to 
 
 Captain N. Burke July 20, 1846. 
 
 DEAR NAT, 
 
 Your last letter dated at New Orleans the fifth finally 
 arrived, looking footsore and weary a couple of days ago; 
 and Miss F. B. to whom I showed it that very evening, re 
 marked tremulously that, Thank Heaven, he wasn t shot 
 yet! which, considering that you haven t been exposed so 
 far to any fire more dangerous than that of your own pistol 
 with which you are esteemed a pretty handy man, seemed to 
 me touching but uncalled-for. Still, it s a very pleasant 
 thing, Nathan, to think that some woman is anxious and glad 
 and relieved about you heigh-ho ! A very pleasant thing 
 indeed! You ll make war and your foes you ll conquer, ven 
 geance for your wrongs obtaining like our friend Rinaldo ; 
 and then you will come home and Mary will crown you with 
 laurels, and how grand will be your mien, N. Burke, with a 
 crown of greenery perched above your long nose ! Just now, 
 however, the chances for acquiring wounds and glory in 
 Mexico seem to be growing slimmer every day; Taylor is 
 motionless on the Rio Grande, we hear; Scott, whose pen is 
 so much mightier than his sword, continues to fulminate at 
 Washington; and people up here are beginning to grumble 
 that both generals are sacrificing a Mexican in the hand, so 
 to speak, for a Presidency in the bush a great injustice, 
 most probably, to each man, but the public must have its 
 say. What s a democratic form of government for unless 
 you can abuse those in authority ? Aren t we paying our 
 army and our generals ? Well, then, we re going to say what 
 we d n please about em ! Cock-a-doodle-doo-oo -. oo ! 
 Although we are all master-tacticians nowadays, capable of 
 telling Taylor exactly what to do in these present and any 
 other circumstances, still I have a kind of lurking suspicion 
 that the old man knows his trade, and has good reasons for 
 his inaction; I think he is the last man in the world to neglect 
 his business for politics. And as for Scott he cannot help 
 writing copiously any more than he can help breathing, and 
 that unfortunate " plate of soup" has dished his chances for 
 the Presidency anyhow. What on earth possessed him? 
 The fellow has no sense of humor; he may "step out of the 
 office for a hasty plate of soup" at dinner-time as often as 
 
THE MAIL-BAG 337 
 
 he chooses, but he ought not to leave that information in a 
 note lying on his desk; he might know if the newspapers 
 ever got hold of it the country would never get through 
 laughing at it. You hear nothing now but " hasty plates" 
 of hash, " hasty plates" of pork-and-beans, " hasty plates" 
 of apple-pie, " hasty plates" of everything under the sun. 
 It s astonishing that a man of real ability and a proved soldier 
 should show himself once in a while such a self-important 
 donkey. And after all the rumpus there may be no more 
 fighting, and Taylor will come home bringing his Palo- Alto 
 sheaves with him, and run for the Presidency on either ticket, 
 as they say he is perfectly willing to do; and the gallant 
 First Ohios may be disbanded without striking a lick; and 
 Captain Burke may have to beat his sword into a ploughshare 
 alas! And everything will go on the same jog-trot as 
 before. 
 
 No, not quite the same, for something rather out-of-the 
 way has just come to pass, and there may be a sequel to it. 
 As I sat here the other day, muddling over a translation of 
 "Persicos odi," and against my own will twisting the verse 
 into all manner of grotesqueries after the style of Hosea 
 Bigelow 
 
 "Ez fer Persians wa al, I never 
 Took much stock in em, my son. 
 Foolin round with wreaths forever, 
 When they d orter git th chores done ! 
 
 Whut / say is : let th roses 
 Go they cost a sight o money. 
 Wear yer old blue jeans them cloze is 
 Sootable, ef they ain t toney 
 
 As I sat meditating these brilliant lines, I say, there came a 
 coughing and shuffling at the door, and presently a hesitat 
 ing knock, on top of which and in response to my invitation 
 there walked in a gentleman dressed, sure enough, in jeans, 
 pantaloons tucked into the tops of his rather massive boots, 
 a plaid velveteen waistcoat with gilt buttons, a bottle-green 
 cloth coat creased a dozen ways like a folding-map, a black 
 satin neck-scarf sprinkled with spots about the size and color 
 of so many rings of hard-boiled egg, encircling a shirt-collar 
 
338 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 wilted to a string; and, finally, a buckeye hat. Do you recog 
 nize the wearer of this costume? You ought to. That I 
 did not at first is, after all, not very surprising, as I have only 
 seen him once or twice in my whole life, and never in such a 
 glory of Sunday clothes. 
 
 "Mister Sharpies," said the apparition, pronouncing my 
 name thus as a good many do, for that matter and then, 
 seeing, doubtless, that I was quite at a loss, he explained: 
 "My name s Williams Liph. I guess you ve heerd Nat 
 Burke talk bout me you re one of his best friends, ain t 
 you?" 
 
 "Oh why of course take a seat, Mr. Williams, take 
 a seat. Er um you know, I suppose, that Burke s 
 not here he s gone to Mexico with the army of course 
 you knew that," said I, in some confusion, and wondering 
 mightily what Mr. Williams errand with me could possibly 
 be. For he had the air of having something to communi 
 cate; and, indeed, he began at once, very simply and directly, 
 and not without a slight look of worry. 
 
 "Mister Sharpies, I jest thort, bein s I was to town any 
 way [I am repeating his own w r ords as nearly as I can re 
 member] I jest thort I d drop erround to see you bout some- 
 thin thet come up th other day somethin bout Nat. I 
 went over to Mister Lewises, but he wa n t at th office, V 
 I ain t got time to wait. I dunno ez you er any uv Nat s 
 friends in th city knows mebbe you ve heerd already 
 but they s some lawyer fellers at least to say they s one 
 lawyer-feller come up from Cincinnati, V they re rakin 
 th ken try with a fine-tooth-comb fer to fin Nat, er his 
 fambly, er somebody that knows somethin bout em. 
 Name uv Slemm, kinder tall man with a leetle cast in one 
 eye, V a big seal-ring. Hez he ben here? Cuz ef he has, 
 why, o course, you know all about it anyway." 
 
 I told him no, that I had not met nor heard of any such 
 person inquiring about you, whereat he wagged his head 
 sagely, not ill-pleased, I think, to be the purveyor of this 
 interesting news, albeit his good-hearted anxiety about you. 
 "Wa al," he said, ruminating, "mebbe he ain t got erround 
 to you yet, er mebbe he ain t figurin on seein you at all, s 
 long s you can t know much of anythin bout Nat s folks 
 anyhow. Fact is, ye see, Nat ain t got any folks to mention. 
 
THE MAIL-BAG 339 
 
 N you ve only knowed him sence he settled in town. But he 
 said right out this here feller, this Slemm did, I mean 
 thet he d wrote to Mister Lewis, V Mister Lewis had re 
 ferred him to me. That s how-come he come to see me. 
 Don t ye chaw, Mr. Sharpies? I got a plug here t I d be glad 
 fer ye to take of." 
 
 I don t chaw and so declined; whereupon Liph, feeling 
 evidently that he had conformed to all the conventions, 
 whittled off a comforting hunk, and got it into his mouth 
 before he answered my question. 
 
 " You say this Mr. Slemm went out to see you at the farm, 
 to ask about Nathan?" 
 
 He nodded. "Druv out in a liv ry buggy V horse he d 
 hired right down here at th corner," he said circumstantially. 
 " Kinder dressed-up, slick-talking feller, y know, Mister 
 Sharpies I dunno, uv course, mebbe he s all right, but he 
 pretty nigh asked too many questions fer me. I don t mind 
 folks bein cur us, but not so all-fired cur us ez he was. Ye 
 see " and here he assumed an expression of profound 
 shrewdness and worldly wisdom "seems like, fer all he 
 was so close-mouthed bout everythin but his questions, 
 thet is we got th idee, her n I did 
 
 "Her?" said I, stupidly enough. 
 
 "Yes, her my wife, y know," he explained, staring a 
 little. "We got th idee thet they was somethin bout 
 proputty mixed up in it somethin thet Nat s father s er 
 mother s folks might uv owned, er mebbe didn t own, but 
 jest took, like they sometimes did long back in th early times, 
 y know, n mebbe somebody s goin ter come on Nat fer it, 
 someway er other n jest regularly law th poor young feller 
 out uv his boots. I ve heerd uv things like that happenin - 
 law s tricky, ye know," he waved a vague comprehensive 
 gesture. " N I sorter think somebody had orter let Nat 
 know f r instance you could write to him, couldn t you ? 
 You know where to write to, so d he d be sure to git it." 
 
 "Why, certainly, Mr. Williams," said I. "But I really 
 don t think it s necessary. If these people have already 
 applied to Mr. Lewis, who is a lawyer himself, and in charge 
 of Burke s affairs, it seems to me everything must be all 
 right. Lewis would hardly have sent them to you or been 
 willing to help them at all otherwise." 
 
340 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 " Wa l, he s jest a young feller same ez Nat is same ez 
 you air - - V more n likely he don t suspicion what they re 
 up to," said Liph and I saw his features settling into that 
 look of immovable, iron-bound, rock-riveted distrust which 
 seems peculiar to honest slow wits; it was plain to me some 
 thing or somebody must have made a very unfavorable or 
 disturbing impression on Mr. Williams. "Whatever tis, 
 I don t want ter stick in, n mebbe make trouble fer Nat. 
 He d ought ter to be wrote to right off 
 
 "Well, but he has been told, ten to one," I urged. "If 
 all this is of any importance, Lewis has undoubtedly written 
 him already; and you and I know that Nathan is pretty well 
 able to take care of himself. Now I don t think you need to 
 worry, Mr. Williams " 
 
 He went steadily on, as if I hadn t said a word ! " Nat had 
 ought to be wrote to right off" he said firmly and judicially, 
 "I ain t very handy writin myself, n I dunno ez I c ld git 
 it all down first n last, so s he c ld make it out. I want Nat 
 ter know that me nor Lindy hadn t any notion uv blabbin 
 erround bout him n his folks, n th minute we made out 
 what Slemm was after, we shet right up, n he never got 
 another thing out n ary one or other uv us. But they was 
 one thing happened I m sorry fer dretful sorry only it 
 couldn t a ben helped hardly. Ye see this Slemm feller 
 comin up in his buggy with all th style he put on, n th 
 dogs a-runnin out n yoppin the way dogs does, n him 
 steppin erround so grand n flourishin off his hat, n then 
 settin down n squarin himself off, n beginnin with his 
 string uv questions, why, he got ev body erround th place 
 kinder worked up. N they was three-four uv th childern 
 hangin erround like childern will, ter watch him, n they 
 made a kinder racket n upsettin in th house, n th first 
 thing you know they d got Maw waked up. She s goin on 
 ninety years old, ye know, Mr. Sharpies, n she kin see pretty 
 good still, but she s feeble, n next-door to stone-deef . Why, 
 ord nar ly you might fire off a cannon right beside her, n 
 she wouldn t even turn her head; she ll sleep right through 
 the almightiest ragin thunder-storm you ever see, jest ez 
 ca m ez a baby! N here she went n waked up with jest a 
 leetle bit uv noise like she s ben used to ev ry day uv her life! 
 I dunno why it is old people air so everlastin pernicketty. 
 
THE MAIL-BAG 341 
 
 Hey? No, she ain t my mother she s her mother. Her 
 name s Darce. She d ben settin in her big chair kinder all 
 humped up, n not payin no tention, same ez she always is, 
 when Slemm he come in, n she never even looked up, at first. 
 But ez I was sayin when she did wake up, she sorter beckoned 
 to Mary Ann thet she always unnerstan s better n anybody 
 else, somehow, n sez, What is it ? What did yer paw say ? 
 He s talkin ter th strange man, Gram maw! sez little 
 Mary Ann, a-yellin ye got ter yell to make her hear, 
 y know. What strange man? What s his name? I 
 don t guess he s got any name he didn t say, sez Mary 
 Anne, jest like a child. N thet made Slemm laugh. Wa al, 
 what s he want anyhow? sez Maw, jest pre-bent n deter 
 mined like old people git oncet in a while, on findin out all 
 bout everythin thet s goin on, n havin a finger in th pie; 
 seems like they jest nachelly can t bear to set back n give 
 up. I dunno what he wants, sez Mary Anne, kinder fright 
 ened, with th strange man lookin at her, n everybody 
 listening n her maw makin a face at her to quit n keep 
 quiet. I dunno sez pore little Mary Ann, ready to cry. 
 1 He s askin bout somebody somebody named Nathan, 
 I dunno who it is. Ye see, Mary Ann, she ain t hardly 
 ever seen Nat; she was borned after he went away. Na 
 than who ? Nathan Granger ? Tell him he s dead least 
 ways I mind somebody sayin he was dead. He must be old 
 nuff ter die anyhow. I ain t seen him in years. We come 
 over th mountains tergether long back, n I ain t seen him 
 sence What! sez Slemm jest like that. What! sez 
 he, Nathan Granger! N he moved over n set down 
 longside uv Maw. This is very interestin , sez he in thet 
 slick way he has. You say you come over th Alleghenies 
 with other pioneers, ma am Ter th Lord s sake, 
 mister sez I, don t git th old woman started not on thet 
 mountain-trip anyhow. It ll rip th throat out uv ye to 
 talk to her, n she don t know nothin but ol times, anyhow. 
 She fergits what happened this week mebbe, n she ll talk to 
 ye by th hour bout things thet happened fifty years ago 
 when she was young. He looked real pleased! Ye don t 
 say! sez he, kinder smilin . Well, now, thet s jest what I d 
 like first-rate to hear about, sez he sorter settlin down. 
 N , Mr. Sharpies, durned ef he didn t set there n holler at 
 
342 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 Maw fer close on to two hours! I ll bet th pore old woman 
 ain t had sech a good time sence she useter be right spry an 
 go erround ter lay folks out V funerals V sech. " 
 
 He went on to say that by this dauntless pertinacity, Mr. 
 Slemm for whom I began to have some sympathy in his 
 task! finally got out of old Mrs. Darce all she could remem 
 ber about Nathan Granger. They had met in the early days 
 of emigration to these settlements; they didn t come from 
 the same place. Her folks was Connecticut; she didn t 
 know where Granger hailed from, except that it was up 
 No th somewheres, up to Canady. She heard once long back 
 a good while thet Granger he d died of th fever down to 
 Muskingum County; she c ld hev asked his darter bout it, 
 but somehow she never thort to. They wan t any Grangers 
 left erroun anywheres thet she knew of. Yes, oh yes, 
 Nathan Granger he hed childern she couldn t jest say how 
 many, er whether they was boys or girls, er what became of 
 em. All excep that pore little Mary Granger, her that 
 married John Burke, that is. John Burke he come an 
 settled right here on th Scioty, and his wife she died inside 
 th year, when th baby was born. It was awful cold bein 
 th first o th year, V peared like she was jest clean tuckered 
 out, n couldn t nachelly stand any more; she died day er 
 two after the baby come. Mrs. Darce helped nurse her and 
 laid her out. She wanted th baby sh ld be named Nathan, 
 so they done it. Then John Burke he died he got 
 drownded giggin fer fish through th ice that winter they 
 hed th big freeze. 
 
 It was at this point that the indefatigable Slemm, man 
 of many devices, led the conversation back to the original 
 topic by inquiring if- Granger had any means owned 
 property hereabouts, for instance which seems to have 
 been one of the questions that somehow aroused Liph s 
 suspicions. However, the results were rather meagre. Mrs. 
 Darce remembered hearing him or somebody else say that 
 th Gov ment had give him land somewheres mebbe twas 
 in Franklin County she couldn t say. Twan t up in th 
 Western Reserve, though she appears to have been very 
 decided about that cuz he hadn t fit in th Revolution, or 
 if he had, twan t fer th States, twas fer th Britishers. 
 Twas only them that fit fer th States that got th land give 
 
THE MAIL-BAG 343 
 
 em up in th Reserve, yeh know. No, she didn t know where 
 he meant to settle didn t know nothin bout Granger s 
 business. She never was no great hand to ask questions 
 some folks was, but she wan t ever. She remembered 
 Granger pertickler becuz although he was a young man, not 
 more n forty (" Forty seems mighty young to her, ye know, 
 mister," said Liph apologetically) his hair wasgittin white 
 all over. Also he was a turrible good shot with a rifle she 
 never seen anybody thet c ld shoot ekal to Granger less n it 
 was Jake Darnell. Might ask him, ef yeh wanted to know 
 bout Granger er Burke he knew em both. Oh, yes, 
 she d plumb fergot Jake was dead she fergot, times. 
 " Lindy, where s my pipe ? " " Maw, she got real peevish V 
 tired out herself, fore he got done with her," Liph remarked. 
 
 And so down goes the curtain on old Mrs. Darce and the 
 inquiry. This was what Williams was so painfully anxious 
 for you to know, and I undertook to write you the entire 
 story. I pointed out, to quiet him, that Slemm might have 
 exactly the opposite object from what Liph suspected that 
 he might be trying to establish some claim to an estate, or to 
 get a what-d ye-call- em? an instrument to quiet a title. 
 But Liph shook his head gloomily and, frankly, it seems 
 to me his distrust of Slemm cannot be wholly due to a bucolic 
 wariness; the man s manner must have contributed more or 
 less to rousing that feeling. I should dislike to see you 
 lawed out of your boots, Nat. It s a ridiculous prejudice, of 
 course, but personally I feel an inclination to look askant 
 on these fellows with smooth, insipid names such as as 
 Slemm, for instance. There s Slaney he s an example! 
 
 This is a fatiguing long letter for you to wade through, 
 but I promised Williams. Duty performed is a rainbow in 
 the soul ! Indeed, most of our letters here can only interest 
 you because they are from home; the town is dull; we look 
 to you for the real news. But somehow I can t get the late 
 lamented Mr. Granger and his youthful white head, and his 
 prowess with the rifle, out of my mind. Do you know that, 
 before you left, I noticed that you were getting quite gray at 
 the temples? And as for your rifle-shooting "eye sartain 
 -finger lightning aim death!" as was observed of Mr. 
 Leatherstocking Bumppo, whose name was Nat, too, by the 
 way. 
 
344 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 It is three o clock in the morning, and I am falling asleep 
 as you will have judged already by some of this drivel. 
 Good-bye. 
 
 Affectionately, 
 
 JIM. 
 
 Lieutenant George Ducey to his mother 
 
 Camp on the Rio Grande, Aug. 46 
 MY DEAR MOTHER, 
 
 We marched up here last week to a place on the river- 
 bank which is opposite a little dog-hole of a Mexican town 
 called Burrito, that is donkey in Spanish. 1 I, for one, am 
 mighty glad to get out of the camp at the Boca del Rio, the 
 mouth of the river you know, which was an awful hole worse 
 than this, hot and muddy and the biggest mosquitos you 
 ever saw regular gally-nippers. I went myself to ever 
 so many of the commanding officers and told them in my 
 opinion we ought to be moved, but nothing was done for 
 quite a while. And I must say that I was very much surprised 
 to find out what sort of people our highest officers are noth 
 ing but rough, common men, without the least education or 
 manners. AVhen I saw Colonel Twiggs he had a two-days 
 beard, and swore fit to raise your hair every other \vord. 
 Yet they ve made him a brigadeer-general. This is suposed 
 to be a much healthier place than our camp at the Boca ; 
 but we never would have got up here if the regimental 
 doctors had not told Taylor that he must move us to another 
 camp mucho pronto, just as I had suggested, or all the men 
 would be too enferma to fight. We are a little more com 
 fortable here. You couldn t get any washing done at the 
 Boca for love or money, but I ve found a muchacha here 
 (that is one of the native women, you know) who took my 
 shirts and did them up tolerably well, though not as they 
 would have been done at home. I carefully explained to 
 her how to starch them in Spanish, but she seemed to be 
 very stupid, and just wouldn t understand a single palabra. 
 A palabra is a word, you know. I expect I ought to apollo- 
 gize for using Spanish to you, but I simply can t help it. 
 I picked it up right away, and have got into the habit so 
 
 1 Lieutenant Ducey s information, like his spelling, will be found 
 somewhat inaccurate. ED. 
 
THE MAIL-BAG 345 
 
 sometimes I m afraid I ll forget my English. Everybody 
 says it s wonderful how quick I learned it; nobody else can 
 ablar Espanol hardly at all yet, and I notice that some of my 
 brother-officers are a little jealous and inclined to make 
 sneering remarks, and it s funny to see how they ll make 
 signs, or take any kind of trouble rather than ask me to 
 translate for them. I don t offer to help them, as I don t 
 propose to be made use of that way. They can pay people 
 to do their translating if they want to. 
 
 Speaking of pay, I m glad I don t have to pay any more 
 than I do, for your dinero (money) don t last long here as it 
 is. These Mexicanos are the worst robbers; they charge you 
 the mas (most) exorbitant prices for everything, even the 
 commonest necessities of life. It takes every cent I ve got 
 for bare comfort, and don t leave anything in case of emer 
 gencies. Don t worry though; I can manage somehow, 
 I supose. The only serious question is if I should get sick 
 like our other brave fellows, I wouldn t have enough to pay 
 for being taken care of; however, I guess I could get along 
 by myself, unless I got the vomito, which is almost sure to 
 be fatal, especially when the patient is neglected. There is 
 a good deal of vomito around, but it hasn t got eppidemic 
 yet. 
 
 Everybody has been across the rio to take a look at Burito; 
 and some have been up to see Matamoras which is a few 
 miles up the rio, and you can go on the steam-transport- 
 boat. I went the other day, and thereby hangs a tail. Don t 
 read this part before Francie, until you ve read it all to your 
 self. I myself think she ought to be told, as she and all of you 
 have always thought Captain Burke was such a model young 
 man. I never thought so, because I don t tell all I know 
 not by a good deal, but this is so fragrant it wouldn t be right 
 to keep it in the dark. I question whether a man of his 
 habits ought to be allowed to go around and mix with people 
 one knows, ladies especially. To begin at the beginning 
 when we were down at the Boca where we had to stay for 
 more than a week, we used to see all the boats with stuff 
 for the army coming in from New Orleans and New York 
 and the transports and volunteers landing every day, quite 
 a sight ; and one day one of them had on board a lot of actors 
 going on up to Matamoras which is a pretty big town you 
 
346 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 know, for this country, and has a theatre or some place where 
 they give performances. There were several ladies you 
 can imagine what kind they were sitting on the decks with 
 some of the gentlemen of the troupe, with wine which they 
 were drinking out of the bottles, and they had got some of the 
 pulque that they sell so much of around here of a peon fellow 
 on the dock and were drinking that, too, and calling out to 
 us on land, and singing and cutting up high jinks generally. 
 Some of our fellows were looking on, of course, men and 
 officers both, and I said to Kennard of the Baltimore Bat 
 talion (they are camped next to us) " Isn t that perfectly 
 disgusting? 7 Kennard didn t say anything, and I saw he 
 was looking very hard at Burke, who was staring with all his 
 eyes at somebody in the crowd on board, I couldn t make out 
 who. Then he turned around and said without seeing me: 
 " Kennard I can t help feeling sorry for those poor w^omen." 
 Afterwards he walked away very slowly and thoughtfully 
 and I said to Kennard " Burke must be hard hit. I wonder 
 which one the charmer was." Kennard didn t answer for 
 a minute, then he said. "Oh, Lord!" and he walked off, 
 too. He s a queer kind of fish, but you meet ever so many 
 down here. I could see, however, that Burke had purposely 
 avoided me, not wanting, I suppose to be caught at that 
 sort of thing by anybody that knew him ; he was always a 
 close-mouthed fellow anyhow, you know, and you never can 
 tell what these Puritannic men are up to in secret. That 
 was just before we got our marching orders; and the minute 
 we reached here Burke got leave for twenty-four hours and 
 went off to Matamoras and spent the day and night, never 
 coming back until the next morning looking rather the worse 
 for wear. Of course that don t prove anything, but wait 
 and hear what came next. He was off duty again yesterday 
 when I went up, and I saw him with her ! It s as plain as day 
 to me now, and will be to you presently when I ve told you 
 the whole thing. His lady-love must have been one of the 
 cargo of actors, though, of course, I didn t see everyone of 
 them, and certainly wouldn t swear to having seen her. A 
 person has to be awfully particular about a thing like this, 
 and I hope I know what s honorable. This just goes to show 
 that some people like the noble, immacculate Captain are 
 pretty deep, and not quite so white as they paint themselves. 
 
THE MAIL-BAG 347 
 
 I took a good look at the woman, although people like 
 that haven t any attractions for me, but this was a duty; 
 and . . . 
 (Page torn off and the rest of the letter missing.) 
 
 Mrs. William Ducey to Mrs. Cornelia Marsh. 
 
 (no date) 
 DEAREST MA 
 
 I have only time for a note to enclose Georgie s letter 
 which of course you will want to read as it has just come direct 
 from the army and besides has other things in it that will 
 interest you even if you aren t particularly interested in him. 
 Please don t fail to return it as you know I have kept every 
 scrap he has ever written me. I know Ma you think I am 
 ridiculous about George but if you would just remember that 
 he s my son and all the child I ve got in the world I don t 
 think you would say the things you did in your last letter 
 which I have to tell you cut me awfully. Of course I know 
 George isn t perfect but you forget that he is very young and 
 his character isn t all formed yet and sometimes he does say 
 funny things like that about his being so good at Spanish 
 when I don t see how he can be after only two or three weeks 
 and I dont think he ought to have gone and bothered his 
 superior officers who must have a great deal on their minds 
 anyhow by telling them what they ought to do when they 
 must have known more about it than he did and had a great 
 deal more experience or they wouldn t be where they are. 
 You see dear Ma I see George s faults the same as you do 
 but I know that he will get all over them in a little while 
 he s only twenty-two now and I don t believe I had as much 
 sense at twenty-two as I have now. I won t send you any 
 more of his letters as you don t care to read them but this 
 one was important on account of what he says about Nathan 
 Burke. It is very shocking. Do you think Mary Sharpless 
 ought to be told ? It would be an awful thing for any decent 
 girl let alone a lady like Mary to marry such a man but I 
 wouldn t want to be the person to tell her about him. Not that 
 I think Mary would be heart-broken over it she s not that kind 
 and everybody here knows that she just took him because 
 she was afraid of being an old maid forever and she couldn t 
 get Jack Vardaman for all her fishing. Anyway Nathan 
 
348 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 may get shot in the war and one wouldn t like to bring up 
 anything against him after he was dead and if he was to come 
 back all crippled up Mary wouldn t have him anyhow so 
 there s not much use my worrying. It s a great deal better 
 to wait a while and see what happens for it may all come 
 out some other way you know they say murder will out. 
 I haven t told Francie but I gave the letter to William and 
 Uncle George to read and of course they were both very much 
 surprised the whole thing is so strange and unexpected and 
 Will said Well truth is certainly stranger than fiction and 
 Uncle George said that By d - some people didn t know 
 the difference between em. Nathan s such a favorite of 
 h& he simply won t believe anything against him, you know 
 and then he never did love George. But I never contradict 
 Uncle George nowadays he s getting so old and feeble we 
 just let him say what he pleases. 
 
 You know he is going to draw out of the business. William 
 says by September first Uncle George will be out and the 
 partnership dissolved. Will is so happy it gives him a free 
 hand at last and he will be able to do so much better he says 
 they have lost thousands of dollars this last year by Uncle 
 George s slowness and unwillingness to go into any enter 
 prise. I don t know what Uncle George will do with himself 
 without the store, but he has plenty of money anyhow and 
 don t need to make any more. 
 
 There isn t any news for everybody is just sitting around 
 waiting to hear from the war. I heard that Jimmie Sharp- 
 less was planning to go but he s never said a word to us about 
 it and I m sure he s had plenty of chances for he s up here 
 every night of the world to see Francie. Poor Louise 
 Andrews Louise Gwynne that was you know is very low with 
 inflammation of the lungs and not expected to live. I feel 
 so sorry for her husband and those two little children. 
 
 My note has stretched out into a pretty long letter hasn t 
 it ? Must stop now with ever so much love 
 
 ANN 
 
 P.S. I do hope you won t feel hurt at what I said about 
 what you said about Georgie it s just that you don t seem to 
 understand him and don t realize that he hasn t had time to 
 develope yet. Lovingly ANN. 
 
CHAPTER II 
 
 IN WHICH WE MAKE SOME NEW FRIENDS AND MEET ONE 
 
 OLD ONE 
 
 MITCHELL S regiment, which numbered some eight hun 
 dred men, was sent down by way of the Ohio and Mississippi 
 rivers and the Gulf, traversing the latter in the first steam- 
 propelled vessel many of them had ever beheld; and during 
 this part of the journey one at least of these eight hundred 
 warriors, not being used to salt-water navigation, was in a 
 very unwarriorlike state of physical collapse, so that the 
 feeblest of Mexicans could have made an end of him in short 
 order. The troops were disembarked July Fourth which 
 should have been a good omen although everybody forgot 
 the date until days afterwards ! at the Brazos on a sandy 
 island where were already collected several thousand volun 
 teers, and in this salubrious spot they remained for about a 
 fortnight, after which they were moved first to a camp at 
 the mouth of the Rio Grande, and later about fifteen miles 
 further up the river, giving all of them a chance to get 
 acquainted on the march with "that d d chaparral," 
 As an obstruction to the passage of an army it merited all 
 the derogatory comment passed upon it; but our fellows 
 took it cheerfully enough ; they fell into the habit of calling 
 any kind of resistant undergrowth "chaparral," whether 
 cactus, maguey, mesquite, or what-not, nor have I ever found 
 out to what the name actually and correctly applied. The 
 discomforts of this campaign in the middle of summer, with 
 torrid heats, plunging downpours of rain, bottomless mud, 
 invincible dust, a plentiful variety of insects and vermin 
 comparable only to those that beset the Egyptians, rations 
 not always of the first quality, and no immediate expecta 
 tion of a fight to raise the spirits these are incident to all 
 campaigns and need not be dwelt upon here. Captain 
 Burke, who was not without some sense of humor, occa 
 sionally wondered with a grin that the title to such a country 
 
 349 
 
350 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 should ever have been disputed, or if there was a man in our 
 ranks, not excepting himself, who knew what we were fight 
 ing about! He himself withstood the hardships of the life 
 tolerably well, being of a somewhat philosophical turn of 
 mind, and, what was more to the purpose perhaps, of a lean, 
 tough, and enduring body; the expedition and encampment 
 brought vaguely to his memory old martial myths, the 
 black ships, the many-tented plain of windy Troy; he had 
 read of them how long ago ! when he was a boy in the stable- 
 loft behind the Ducey house, stumbling amongst the alien 
 names, and thrilling through all his backwoodsman blood 
 to the great sounding recital of adventure and conquest. 
 Indeed, the camp here on the Rio Grande, besides the con 
 stantly arriving and departing vessels, the crowding troops 
 from every State in the Union with their one speech and their 
 astounding variety of talk, the flying rumors, the alarums 
 and excursions, was not lacking in other points of resem 
 blance. General Twiggs was encamped above the town of 
 Matamoros; General Worth, near at hand, below it; Gen 
 eral Taylor himself just outside; heroic celebrities, as great 
 to the imagination of an obscure young captain of volunteers 
 as any that ever stalked through the pages of the ^Eneid, 
 were to be familiarly seen, nay, even met and talked with, 
 like ordinary men, any hour of the day. Burke himself 
 was actually presented to that ideal of his earlier years, 
 little George Croghan. The youthful defender of Fort 
 Stephenson was now a weatherbeaten veteran of sixty-odd, 
 still in the service and lately appointed Inspector of Vol 
 unteers, in which capacity Nat encountered him. The Ohio 
 captain, who had ignorantly supposed the inspector to be 
 some younger edition of little Georgie, was delighted; but 
 alack, Colonel Croghan turned out to be an abrupt, cold- 
 tempered, elderly gentleman with that not very carefully 
 concealed scorn of the volunteer service which was enter 
 tained by some of the regular-army officers, and when Burke 
 ventured to mention Fort Stephenson and to inquire if the 
 Colonel happened to remember a scout named Jake Darnell, 
 - "Huh Fort Stephenson huh!" says the other, scowl 
 ing upon him; "Darnell, huh? No, I never heard of him. 
 Never asked the name of a single damn scout in my life!" 
 with which amiable speech the interview ended. 
 
SOME NEW FRIENDS AND ONE OLD ONE 351 
 
 Drawing-room manners were perhaps not to be expected in 
 this great concourse of men of all classes brought together, high 
 and low, good, bad, and indifferent for one savage purpose. 
 But, to tell the truth, Burke thought he discerned a certain 
 popularity in roughness-and-readiness throughout the camp. 
 Nobody could have been more genuinely simple in his tastes, 
 more careless of display, more patient under every kind of 
 makeshift and discomfort than the plain and sturdy old 
 leader. It was natural that those habits and qualities that 
 so endeared him to the rank-and-file and to the American 
 public at large should have been imitated, or rather travestied 
 and exaggerated, by others eager for the popularity to which 
 General Taylor himself never gave a thought. " He s camp 
 ing in a tent up there about a mile outside of Matamoros 
 when he might just as well be comfortably housed in the 
 town," one officer told Burke with a look of wonder, de 
 scribing a recent visit he had made to the head of the army; 
 "he s made Twiggs governor of Matamoros, you know, and 
 I expect he thinks this will be more convenient and prevent 
 any clashing of authority. Anyhow, there he is. His tent 
 is just like all the others, pitched right out in the broiling sun, 
 just a few of these little twisted, gnarled-up trees they grow 
 down here on one side of it, and not a guard nor a sentry in 
 sight, Burke! There was a fat little youngster, a child of 
 some camp-follower, I suppose, playing right outside it. 
 I got there just as the general was getting through with a 
 deputation of civilians, you know representing some 
 people in New Orleans that wanted to vote him something 
 - I don t know what it was all about. Whatever it was, he 
 was declining the honor. I heard him say that while he 
 appreciated their generosity, he thought there would be a 
 certain impropriety in his receiving a reward for his services 
 before the campaign, so far as he was concerned, was finished. 
 And he went on and gave them a talk on the mistake people 
 made in naming children and places after men before they 
 were dead! I suppose they had wanted to do something of 
 the kind. Maybe it wasn t very politic, but I tell you it was 
 good horse-sense, and I believe the committee saw it that 
 way. How many other men in public life that people were 
 sounding for the Presidency would have done it, do you sup 
 pose ? I ll bet there s not another in the country !" 
 
352 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 " Shouldn t wonder !" said Burke, thinking, with a smile, 
 of Governor Gwynne. " What does he look like ? " 
 
 "Why, heavy set, rather, with gray hair pretty near 
 white it is, too; he s over sixty, you know and blue eyes, 
 or gray eyes, I couldn t say exactly clean-shaven, tanned 
 like an Indian, of course. I think he d be a fair-com- 
 plexioned man naturally. He was sitting on a dry-goods 
 box with one of those red Arkansas blankets folded up on 
 top of it for a cushion, and he didn t have on fatigue uniform, 
 but a kind of a linen jacket and pantaloons, and a straw 
 hat about three feet wide, more or less. There wasn t 
 a thing in the tent but his iron camp-cot, and a couple of 
 blue-painted chests that he was using for a table. It might 
 have been your tent or mine. No gold-braid and bugle- 
 tooting about him, I tell you. I guess the folks at home 
 would think he looked more like a Louisiana planter than the 
 general of the biggest army we ve ever got together." He 
 paused, reflecting with a puckered forehead, then burst out 
 enthusiastically: "All the same, Burke, he s a general, 
 and about the only one we ve had since Washington of 
 course there s Scott, too. But I believe the men, the regu 
 lars, the fellows that know him, would follow Zachary Taylor 
 to hell, if he just got on old Whitey s back and said, Come 
 on, boys ! Look how fond they are of him they talk about 
 him the whole time." 
 
 This was true, as Burke had already noticed. He used to 
 hear the camp-fire gossip : Old Zack did this, Old Zack said 
 that; even the volunteers, hundreds of whom, like Burke 
 himself, had never yet seen him, had caught the contagion of 
 affectionate pride and confidence. The general had turned 
 out of his bed to give it to a sick private in some sudden dearth 
 of beds, himself sleeping rolled up in a blanket on the ground. 
 When the two armies lay opposite each other before Mata- 
 moros, General Arista replied to the American commander s 
 remonstrance that the Mexican soldiers were robbing and 
 mutilating the bodies of the American dead by the state 
 ment that these atrocities were not committed by the Mexi 
 can army, but by camp-followers whom he could not control. 
 "When I come over the river, I will control them!" said our 
 stout old chief. And he did. These and a dozen other like 
 stories circulated among the troops; and it may be thought 
 
SOME NEW FRIENDS AND ONE OLD ONE 353 
 
 a strange thing, but one, I believe, that has been observed 
 before, that what all these rough fellows admired and re 
 spected in their leader, more even than his courage, was his 
 humanity. 
 
 The last-named quality was, however, either not so ap 
 parent or not so easily parodied as the rough-and-readiness; 
 officers and men, we became not too fastidious in our habits; 
 we smoked, we chewed, we drank, I fear our army swore 
 dreadfully in Texas. We must have been a distressing 
 spectacle to disciplinarians like Lieutenant Ducey. George 
 himself was as much the dandy officer as he had been at home, 
 to the wonder and the very great recreation of his fellow- 
 soldiers. I have seen the sentries stare and break into 
 smothered guffaws behind his back as the lieutenant strutted 
 by, head up and chest well thrown out, scented, pink, and 
 shaven, creaking in his tight belt, his brilliantly polished 
 boots, twirling his moustache, which was a magnificent 
 growth by this time, and flashing killing glances out of his 
 large dark eyes at any woman who looked worth it. The 
 young man was not more popular here than he had been at 
 home. What was it that was the matter with George Ducey? 
 A man need not be less a man for being fond of fine clothes 
 and of looking in the mirror; there were idle and worthless 
 youths in plenty, there were fops and braggarts among us, 
 but I am sure they made some friends. George made none, 
 or none that he kept. The officers, both regular and volun 
 teer, whom we met would not take him into comradeship ; 
 Captain Burke began to hear disagreeable rumors; George 
 borrowed and did not pay; George lost all his money at 
 euchre to some expert and he reported the fact to Colonel 
 Mitchell, and talked loud about cheating and professional 
 gamblers "hang him, can t he keep his mouth shut? 
 If he will play, he ought to take his medicine ! " said one young 
 fellow to another testily. " Cheat, hey? I cheat, do I?" 
 said the winner, with a perfectly brutal laugh. "Tell him 
 from me that I ll spank him on sight!" These tales came 
 to Captain Burke only after long and devious wanderings 
 throughout the entire camp, for curiously enough there was 
 a general impression that Ducey and he were in some way 
 related, founded, perhaps, on the fact that they came from 
 the same place and were even members of the same com- 
 SA 
 
354 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 pany; and on one or two occasions the captain had under 
 taken George s debts, being loath to let washerwomen and 
 such small fry go unpaid. So that even General Twiggs, 
 whose acquaintance Burke had made some while before, 
 remarked to him one day that he understood that young 
 Ducey fellow was some connection of his was it a step 
 brother ? Burke explaining that this was a mistake " Well, 
 I m glad to hear it," said the general, briskly, adding in that 
 richly ornamented style of speech for which he was noted: 
 "By G d, Captain, I was going to say if it was so, you had a 
 d d liar for a step-brother ! " But I do not think this notion 
 was ever entirely corrected. Not only at Matamoros, but 
 later during almost the whole time our armies spent in 
 Mexico, Burke would receive casual inquiries about his step 
 brother, his cousin, even his nephew, for the captain ap 
 peared much the elder, although, in fact, there were but 
 three or four years between them. It was not until the 
 American troops reached Mexico City, after more than a 
 year s campaigning, that these questions ceased, and then 
 only after various events which influenced Burke s fellow- 
 officers, out of a mistaken kindness, to refrain from mention 
 ing the captain s relative at all. 
 
 The young man whom I quoted at length a little way back 
 was almost Burke s first acquaintance; he belonged to the 
 Maryland troops, and was surely one of the bravest soldiers 
 and best gentlemen that ever lived as indeed his whole 
 career testified. The friendship began, for an oddity, 
 through a fearful squabble between half a dozen companies 
 of their respective regiments over a catfish caught by some 
 body on either one or the other side no one ever found out 
 which; and this, occurring about twilight with oaths, blows, 
 drawn weapons, and a terrific riot, might have involved the 
 two entire regiments in a bloody scrimmage and had the most 
 appalling results, had not a few officers retained influence and 
 presence of mind enough to keep their men in their company 
 streets, and afterwards running in between the most violent, 
 succeeded in persuading them not to fire on one another, 
 and finally brought them to reason. In the course of these 
 exertions the two captains encountered, to the vast relief 
 of each. 
 
SOME NEW FRIENDS AND ONE OLD ONE 355 
 
 " Lord, I never shall forget how I felt when you started in/ 
 the Maryland officer confided to the other after a truce had 
 been patched up, and they walked away together from the 
 field. "One shot would have started them all, and Heaven 
 knows how many lives might have been wasted in this mis 
 erable fuss. Somebody had ordered your fellows to load up 
 with ball cartridge it was just as bad on our side. Wat 
 son, our colonel, is off duty and gone somewhere, and for a 
 while there didn t seem to be any of our officers around but 
 me. I saw you coming and for a minute I was afraid you 
 might be as crazy as the rest." He stopped, drew a long 
 breath, and wiped his forehead. "Whew! I don t think 
 we ll have much hotter work with the Mexicans." 
 
 "I wish we could get our men under the same discipline 
 as the regulars," Burke said enviously; "you never hear of 
 any such disgraceful rumpus between them. I suppose your 
 company is just like mine some of em good, sober, steady, 
 orderly men some just hoodlums some nothing but 
 boys out for a frolic. I think they ll all fight; but that 
 doesn t do much good if they won t obey orders, and behave 
 themselves." 
 
 "That s so," assented the other. "We haven t heard the 
 last of this, either. Both our colonels will probably make 
 complaint at headquarters, you know." He hesitated a 
 moment, then put out his hand and said with a very kind, 
 straightforward, and winning manner, "Well, whatever bad 
 blood there is between the men, that s no reason why we 
 should be enemies, Captain. My name s Kennard of the 
 Baltimore Battalion." Whereupon, Captain Burke naming 
 himself in turn, the two young men shook hands heartily. 
 
 The regiments being encamped side by side, they saw more 
 or less of each other thereafter; they used to exchange opin 
 ions, smoking in their tents in off hours, on the conduct of 
 the campaign, the character of the generals, the state of the 
 army, the nature of the country, and the Mexicans themselves, 
 for whom both felt a sort of contemptuous pity. The last 
 topic, indeed, engrossed a good deal of their talk, neither of 
 them ever having been in a foreign country before. Kennard, 
 coming from the big eastern city with its port on the Atlantic, 
 its larger society, its more cosmopolitan atmosphere than 
 had Burke s little inland town, was still hardly less impressed 
 
356 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 than the quondam farmer-boy, though by very different 
 aspects of the scene. Nat surveyed the sad, rain-soaked, 
 or sun-baked landscape, the endless cactus, the Biblical- 
 looking ploughs, the donkeys, the little grave black oxen, 
 the women carrying their terra-cotta water-jars on their 
 heads after an unbelievably Oriental fashion, the swagger 
 ing, jingling, lariated, be-spurred, and be-pistolled ranch 
 men, with unending wonder, and also, although he was of a 
 rather practical turn, with some appreciation of their pictu 
 resque possibilities. He found himself reminded almost in 
 one breath, as it were, of the Arabian Nights and the Old 
 Testament; Rebecca, Naomi, Sinbad, and Ali Baba would 
 be equally at home in Mexico, and might elbow one another 
 in the road without incongruity, he thought. Kennard, on 
 the other hand, plainly suffered, to the exclusion of any other 
 sentiment, from a kind of depression at sight of the ignorance, 
 disease, and poverty surrounding us. 
 
 " Poor creatures! " he used to ejaculate. " Did you ever see 
 anything so wretched, so apathetic, so near to the brutes as 
 these peons? They re forever sitting on the ground they 
 live crawling around on the ground like ants; they eat and 
 sleep wherever they happen to be, like dogs. They haven t 
 any homes you can t call these adobe hovels they live in, 
 fifteen or twenty people all pigging together, you can t call 
 them homes. Why, our negro slaves wouldn t live that way 
 - we wouldn t allow it we take care of our slaves, and see 
 that they re clean and healthy I suppose you don t think 
 so, coming from your State - he interrupted himself, 
 glancing at his companion a little sharply, "but - 
 
 "Why, I should think you d take the best of care of them," 
 said Burke, smoking steadily. "That would be common 
 sense and good policy, to say nothing of humanity." 
 
 "Of course," said the other, satisfied; "but I was going 
 to tell you I went into one of their dens the other day, over 
 in Burito, just for curiosity. There were half a dozen women, 
 old hags at twenty-five or thirty, you know how they get to 
 looking, one girl not more than fourteen years old, I swear, 
 suckling a baby. I don t know how many other babies 
 sprawling on the dirt floor, stark naked two of em, with their 
 faces all broken out in sores 
 
 "You ought to be careful," interrupted Burke; "you 
 
SOME NEW FRIENDS AND ONE OLD ONE 357 
 
 don t want to start an epidemic among the men, let alone 
 getting some kind of contagion yourself." 
 
 " Twasn t anything but chicken-pox, I think, and I ve 
 had that. Besides, the camp is full of mumps and measles 
 anyway the contagion I d carry wouldn t be a drop in the 
 bucket. There was a live turkey tied by the leg under a 
 shelf, a couple of men asleep dead drunk on benches. 
 Gr-r-ungh ! I never saw a worse hole, no, not even along the 
 water-front at home. The difference is that you can t stop 
 to look in at a place like that at home without getting a crack 
 on the head 
 
 "In Mexico it s more likely to be a knife through your back, 
 hey?" said Burke, grinning. 
 
 "No, that s what seems to me so remarkable. These 
 people are really well disposed towards us; it s the way we ve 
 acted. We pay as we go and we certainly pay high, and we 
 treat em like human beings. One of them that could speak 
 a little English told me the other day that they liked us 
 better than Arista s army. And these poor things in the hut 
 looked up and smiled and invited me in, and one of the women 
 offered me a tortilla she d just baked one of those corn- 
 meal cakes they make, you know. She was slopping around 
 with the dough batter whatever they call it, on a slant 
 ing board, the way they stir em up you ve seen them in 
 market, haven t you ? It wasn t very appetizing, but I 
 took it anyhow, and threw it away after I got outside." 
 
 I suppose those that we buy in camp here, when the women 
 come around with the trays of stuff, are all made the same 
 way and in just such places," Burke said. "They don t 
 taste bad. If we never get any worse than that, we ll be 
 doing well. Is there a market at Burito? I didn t see it." 
 
 "Why, no, I meant the market at Matamoros. Haven t 
 you been there yet ?" 
 
 Captain Burke had not yet been to Matamoros. Let s 
 go to Matamoros, by all means. "It s a real Mexican town 
 just as Mexican as can be," Kennard told him. "I ll 
 tell you what: let s arrange to stay all night, and go to the 
 theatre. Don t you remember that theatrical company 
 we saw going up the river? They re there now. Mata 
 moros is full to the guards, you know all kinds of people. 
 Ask where they come from and every mother s son of ; em 
 
358 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 will tell you New Orleans. Further than that nobody knows, 
 and better not ask, I guess. I know a fellow that s with the 
 regulars there with the artillery. His name s Ridgely, 
 and maybe I can get him to take us around." 
 
 Next day Captain Burke got his leave of absence for the 
 twenty-four hours; but Kennard was disappointed of his, 
 so that the first-named gentleman was obliged regretfully to 
 set out alone. Kennard scrawled a note of introduction to 
 Lieutenant Randolph Ridgely of the Light Artillery, who was, 
 in fact, a member of the lamented Major Ringgold s famous 
 battery, and had borne himself with great gallantry on the 
 fields of Palo Alto and Resaca another hero whom Burke 
 was highly pleased to meet. Being furnished with this, the 
 captain went across the river to Burito and bought a wild, 
 little, evil-eyed, and cat-motioned mustang pony for six 
 dollars upon which he proposed to make the trip; but the 
 steamboat Virginia opportunely happening along, he took 
 passage on her instead, and arriving at Matamoros about 
 noon, disembarked and wandered up into the streets, staring 
 with his alien eyes upon the worn and antique town that 
 showed yellow and blue and many-colored walls, and roofs 
 of thatch or tiles and outlandish semi-tropic greenery under 
 the July sun. About all the Mexican towns that Burke 
 saw although this may have been merely his perverted 
 fancy there hung an invincible melancholy; their busy, 
 discordant market-places, their gaudy shops were not lively; 
 even the presence of the invader, whether they hated, or 
 liked, or only suffered us, could not arouse them to anything 
 resembling movement or energy; we paid our way hand 
 somely and must have brought them more trade than they 
 ever had before or since (surely the descendants of a nation 
 of shopkeepers may take a little pride in that statement); 
 yet even so it was as if the spirit of the people stood aloof 
 and regarded us not resentfully, but with a sphinxlike 
 detachment, absorbed in its own sombre meditation. As 
 Burke walked up from the landings, there was some bustle 
 of arrival, the town was full of soldiers, one of our bands - 
 the Seventh Regiment, I think was practising in the ala- 
 meda, booming out "The Low-Back d Car" with all its 
 brazen lungs, there were people passing to and fro, bright 
 draperies, flapping flags, yet one had but to pause and look 
 
SOME NEW FRIENDS AND ONE OLD ONE 359 
 
 aside and lo, the vista of a long, pensive, silent street, high, 
 blank walls, iron-grated windows, glaring, white, unkind 
 sunlight, cold shadow , a native woman, shapeless under her 
 blue cotton head-shawl, crouching in the dust; the scene 
 not two steps separated from the first, yet ineffably remote, 
 a piece of ancient civilization grafted on a commingled civili 
 zation and savagery more ancient still old as these estab 
 lished hills. The young fellow, fresh from the sturdy drab 
 and homespun activity of his Ohio town that numbered 
 scarcely more years than himself, felt a slight depression at 
 this settled and pervasive antiquity; the very cathedral 
 on the plaza looked venerable, although it was a compara 
 tively new building, as yet unfinished; he took it at first 
 for an interesting ruin not the only one he saw, for the 
 town bore traces of our cannonading from Fort Brown on 
 the opposite side of the river. Few lives had been lost, 
 however, Ampudia having evacuated the place almost with 
 out a blow. Nat had the honor of dining in the house lately 
 occupied by the Mexican general, and now converted into 
 the " Fonda del Comercio" by an enterprising American. 
 Captain Burke was the guest within these historic portals 
 of Lieutenant Ridgely, to whom he went and presented his 
 letter of introduction, and whom he found to be a most cor 
 dial, agreeable, and soldierly-looking gentleman, who insisted 
 on giving him the Maryland welcome of a meal. 
 
 "I can t answer for it," he said with a laugh; "but at any 
 rate it won t be any worse than camp-fare. Weren t you 
 surprised to find the place fairly boiling over with Ameri 
 cans ? It s miraculous how quick they all got here. Sir, I 
 declare we hadn t been in occupation a week when they all 
 came down like like the water at Lodore in the poem. 
 American goods, American drinks, American storekeepers, 
 faro-dealers, saloon-men, gamblers, horse-thieves they ve 
 run the Mexicans clean out never saw anything like it!" 
 
 Between this and other speeches which the gallant lieu 
 tenant delivered with great energy, eating and drinking, 
 pressing the captain to more rabbit, more eggs, more fric 
 asseed kidney, more coffee and soda-biscuit, and ordering 
 the slouching Mexican waiters about in halting but vigor 
 ous Spanish with that extraordinary manner at once amiable 
 and imperative in which so many southerners address their 
 
360 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 servants between times he pointed out to his companion 
 numbers of celebrities, for it appeared the " Fonda del 
 Comercio" was much patronized by the army. Captain 
 Burke was not sorry to find himself in this distinguished and 
 interesting company. It is one thing to read in print about 
 Captain Walker and his band of Texas Rangers armed with 
 " Colt s patent repeaters," who, fifty of them, had stood off 
 fifteen hundred Mexicans in a pitched fight on the banks 
 of this same Rio Grande no longer ago than last April it 
 is one thing to read about this exploit, and another to behold 
 a wiry-looking gentleman of two- or three-and-thirty years, 
 tanned to the color of a Mexican saddle, peaceably eating 
 pork and beans (with his knife) at a table within arms 
 length, and be told that that man is Captain Samuel Walker 
 "of the Rangers, you know." He has on a sort of nonde 
 script uniform, his " patent repeater," nay, his two patent 
 repeaters, may be clearly seen, hitched to his belt and repos 
 ing one on either hip; he converses with the waiter in that 
 nasal and singsong Spanish peculiar to this country. The 
 volunteer captain stares at him unreservedly. Powers above, 
 what has this man not done and endured! What bloody 
 battles against desperate odds has he waged with Seminoles, 
 Comanches, Mexicans! He has known starvation and fever 
 in the horrid prison-cells of Perote escaped been retaken 
 escaped again a dozen times. At Salado Santa Anna 
 condemned him and his handful of wretches to decimation by 
 lot one black bean in the bowl of white for every tenth 
 man. He escaped once more. "I should think he d never 
 want to see another bean!" Burke says, thinking of this in 
 cident, and observing with what gusto the Ranger is stowing 
 them away. His companion laughs, and an officer, who has 
 just come in and has been giving his order in very fluent 
 and easy Spanish, pauses by their table and asks if there is 
 room for him? "Why, of course, sir. General, my friend 
 Captain Burke of the First Ohio. Burke, General Quit- 
 man." 
 
 Nat got up and saluted; but the other offered his hand. 
 "Why, Captain Burke, you and I are in the same boat and 
 ought to stand by each other; we re nothing but volunteers, 
 you know, and we re only too glad to get a little notice from 
 one of these regulars a fellow like Ridgely, here, for in- 
 
SOME NEW FRIENDS AND ONE OLD ONE 361 
 
 stance/ said the general, pleasantly; and went on as they 
 sat down to say that he was especially glad to meet the 
 men who might presently come under his personal command. 
 "I understand all the volunteers are to be organized into a 
 field division under Butler or Hamer and in all probability 
 I shall have a brigade." 
 
 " You ll get your own Mississippi men, and some of the 
 other troops from the Southern States," Ridgely prophesied 
 blithely; "the Southern men had better be all shaken down 
 together. Burke here can tell you that," he said, winking. 
 Quitman, looking at Burke, smiled and asked if he was one of 
 the officers who had taken a hand in quelling the disturbance 
 the other evening ? "I take an interest in Ohio," he added; 
 "I lived there for a while twenty years or so ago, when I was 
 a young fellow about like you or even younger, I guess. 
 Do you know anybody in D County? " 
 
 Nathan flushed up. "I was born there," he said with a 
 boyish stir of sentiment at the chance reference. Perhaps 
 General Quitman himself was not ill-pleased in this far place 
 to meet some one with whom he could pass a common memory. 
 He talked quite eagerly about D and its people, and the 
 Scioto; and when Ridgely was obliged to go on duty and the 
 little party broke up, separated from them with warm expres 
 sions of regret. 
 
 Burke, thrown once more on his own resources, went out 
 and roamed about the streets and market-house in the laud 
 able purpose of acquiring some closer knowledge of the na 
 tives, and improving his command of the Spanish, or more 
 properly, the Mexican tongue; meeting an occasional black 
 look, but finding the people in general very simple, kind, 
 and obliging, and ready to help out his stumbling phrases. 
 Ridgely had hardly exaggerated; Matamoros was boiling over 
 with Americans and not the most select assortment at that. 
 To judge by the society our army attracted and the quality 
 of entertainment provided for it, you might have supposed it 
 was made up of drunken rowdies and blackguards. Burke 
 went into w r hat appeared to be one of the most popular bar 
 rooms of the place, which flourished under the title of "The 
 Grand Spanish Saloon" -the establishment not presenting, 
 however, a single Spanish feature. It was a long, low-ceil- 
 
362 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 inged room like a tunnel, its only window, which was really a 
 pair of glass double-doors in the usual Mexican fashion, open 
 ing on an inner court, floored with slimy bricks, where some 
 potted plants sickened in the over-heated foul air. The 
 bar occupied one side; on the other there were a great num 
 ber of tables where many gentlemen of various complexions, 
 but an equal and most astonishing degree of skill, were en 
 gaged at roulette, faro, keno, chuck-a-luck and other ingen 
 ious pastimes. All these practitioners went armed, it seemed, 
 and seldom in his life has Captain Burke been received with 
 more marked attention; he could not approach a table with 
 out some member of the party seated thereat starting a little 
 nervously and feeling for his weapon! At the back of the 
 room, after having made the tour of both sides, the captain 
 found, to his unqualified amazement, a coffee-stand in charge 
 of a lean, quiet-looking youth of eighteen or so, who was read 
 ing in the corner. The stand, which was nothing more than a 
 board across a couple of barrels, was draped in red curtain- 
 calico and spread with clean white paper; there was a tin 
 coffee-urn and some plates of cakes. Burke, wondering 
 within him who patronized this modest enterprise in such a 
 place, went up and asked for coffee, and the boy got up, set 
 the spirit-lamp going, and served him gravely. He was 
 shabbily dressed but had a pair of clean hands, very 
 nearly the first Nat had seen in Mexico, and the coffee 
 was hot and fairly good. 
 
 "This isn t a very good place for a boy like you, my lad/ 
 said the captain who, being at this time somewhere in the 
 neighborhood of twenty-five years of age, and of a sober char 
 acter and experience, was inclined sometimes to take himself 
 pretty seriously. The other looked at him with a kind of 
 sprite-like humor, in which there showed, too, both un 
 derstanding and good-nature; he had a thin, spirited, and 
 singularly mobile face. 
 
 "Well, I don t know that it s such a very good place for an 
 old manlike you, grandpa," he remarked. Their eyes met; 
 and Nat had the grace to burst out laughing a laugh in 
 which the boy joined whole-heartedly. 
 
 "Well, but I mean it," Burke persisted. "How do you 
 happen to be here ? " 
 
 "Business," said the other, succinctly, beginning to clear 
 
SOME NEW FRIENDS AND ONE OLD ONE 363 
 
 away the coffee-cup and spoon. " We thought we d get more 
 customers in a place like this." 
 
 " Do you, though ?" 
 
 "I don t know I never tried selling coffee before, so I 
 can t tell whether we re doing a roaring trade, or only just 
 keeping our heads above water," said the boy, with gravity. 
 " I haven t anything to compare by, you see." 
 
 Here a sallow, black-haired man in black broadcloth with 
 a diamond on his little finger, another in his shirt-front, a silk 
 hat, and a pistol in his hip-pocket one of the gamblers, in 
 short, lounged forward and spun a dollar on the counter. 
 "Gimme a cup of coffee, Joe." Nathan sat down on a 
 whiskey-keg, conveniently near, and watched Joe serve out 
 the hot drink. "Keep the change that s all right keep 
 it!" said his patron, magnificently, and swaggered away, 
 barely glancing at the humble infantry-officer sitting by. 
 Joe picked up the dollar, thoughtfully. "That wouldn t 
 happen in a respectable place, I suppose," he said, grinning a 
 little. 
 
 " You haven t always done this, then? " Nathan asked him. 
 
 "Hey? Had a coffee-stand? Well, no, I should think 
 not! " said the other, with some youthful arrogance. "I m an 
 actor." 
 
 "Oh. Are you with the company here in town? The 
 ones that came up the river the other day ? " said Burke, sur 
 prised and faintly disappointed. At the time of which I 
 write there was a disposition in certain circles to look with 
 disapproval on what we now acknowledge to be one of the 
 noblest of professions. I am glad to say that Mr. Burke had 
 never shared this absurd and stupid and cruel prejudice ; but 
 he had happened to see the dramatic troupe he mentioned on 
 their journey, and this boy, who was plainly too good for his 
 present employment, should be also, Nat thought, too good 
 for that miserable crew, those painted, haggard, loud 
 mouthed women, and coarse men. Indeed, young Joe 
 flushed a good deal, and cast a troubled look at his ques 
 tioner. 
 
 u No, no I don t act with them. I m here with my 
 mother and sister; we we don t even know those people, " 
 he explained hastily; "we ve been here for months came 
 from Galveston this Spring. We heard the guns at Palo 
 
364 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 Alto the very day we got here, while we were on the steam 
 boat at Point Isabel." 
 
 "You don t say! Why, you were here through it all," 
 exclaimed Burke, interested. "Gracious! You didn t see 
 any of the fighting, did you?" 
 
 "Oh, no. But we saw Ringgold s funeral," said the boy, 
 with enthusiasm; " they had him on one of the gun-carriages 
 -what do you call em? a caisson, isn t it? with the 
 flag spread over him and all the soldiers marching with their 
 arms reversed, and the drums muffled, and the band going 
 soft it was solemn and awful it was a great sight!" 
 The dramatic aspect of the scene, it was evident, touched him 
 deeply; his young voice vibrated as he spoke. 
 
 "It s a wonder you didn t enlist on the spot," said Burke, 
 a little amused. 
 
 "Well, military funerals aren t exactly an inducement, you 
 know," retorted the other, with a slight yet curiously conta 
 gious chuckle; then his face sobered. "Besides, I can t leave 
 mother," he said seriously. " This wouldn t be any place for 
 her and my sister without me to take care of them. It s not 
 much of a place for women American women anyhow." 
 
 "You ve been here ever since, then ? " 
 
 "Yes oh, yes. We were acting in the theatre here, you 
 know. Then, here a couple of weeks ago, our manager 
 vamoosed cleared out with all the receipts, and some 
 back-salaries. That left us all " he spread his hands and 
 brought them down on the slab in front of him with a gesture 
 in which one saw a complete void, a world of emptiness 
 "flat stony broke " he said with a kind of airy tragedy, 
 cheerful and unafraid. "No use trying to get after him, you 
 know we couldn t have got anything out of him, even if we 
 could have found him." 
 
 "What became of the rest of your company?" Burke 
 asked, not a little entertained by this slight glimpse of the 
 players world. Joe shook his head. 
 
 "Don t know," he said light-heartedly; "most of em 
 scraped up the money to go get back to the States some 
 how. One fellow stayed, and he and I went into this to 
 gether firm s name is Badger and Jefferson Edward 
 Badger and Joseph Jefferson. We used to do the comedy 
 parts together." He gave a light sigh, and meditatively 
 
SOME NEW FRIENDS AND ONE OLD ONE 365 
 
 rearranged his cups and saucers. " Texas may be all right for 
 a ranger," he said profoundly, "but I m convinced it s no 
 field for the legitimate." 
 
 "The legitimate?" said Burke, not understanding. 
 
 "Yes the regular drama. Now is the winter of our 
 discontent and all the rest of it. Maybe I ll have to 
 enlist yet. You re one of the enlisted men, the volunteers, I 
 mean, aren t you ? Doesn t that shoulder-strap, or whatever 
 you call it, mean a captain?" 
 
 "Yes, my name s Burke of the Ohio Volunteers." 
 
 "Burke? Is that so? I ve got a step-brother named 
 Burke. He s an actor, too; he s in Philadelphia now at 
 least that s the last we heard," said the boy, appearing to take 
 this wide distribution of the family quite as a matter of 
 course. "None of us come from Ohio, though, so I suppose 
 we can t be any relation." 
 
 Burke, being himself quite kinless, said that he was afraid 
 not. "Where s your partner?" he added. "Does he leave 
 you to do all the work alone ? " 
 
 "Oh, no. I guess he s he s busy somewhere," said the 
 boy, sending unconsciously, I think a disturbed glance 
 toward the card-tables. "He always turns up at evening 
 anyhow, so we can go home together. He s got a pistol 
 person has to be pretty careful after dark here, you know." 
 
 It was nearing dusk already, as Burke remarked with sur 
 prise. And Badger not appearing, the captain, who carried 
 a patent-repeater himself, volunteered to convoy young Jef 
 ferson home with the "swag," as he humorously termed the 
 profits of his day s labor, which he bestowed in a buckskin 
 bag it did not need a very large one. This treasure he in 
 trusted to Mr. Burke with as much confidence as if he had 
 known that gentleman all his life ; and they set out together, 
 Joe himself bearing one of the firm s pies wrapped in a bit of 
 brown paper, for a contribution to the evening meal. " We ve 
 got an old Mexican woman that makes em for us," he ex 
 plained; " and I guess they re clean they haven t poisoned 
 anybody yet, anyway." 
 
 The Jeffersons were living in an humble quarter of the 
 town in a Mexican house which must have sheltered half-a- 
 dozen other families. Any number of domestic offices, from 
 plucking chickens for to-morrow s dinner to spanking re- 
 
366 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 calcitrant babies, were going on in the patio as we entered; a 
 pretty young Mexican girl who was watering the plants 
 looked up with a smile and flashing white teeth, and a rather 
 coquettish side-glance of big black eyes. " That s Metta 
 a a girl I know," said young Jefferson, reddening slightly; 
 "she she teaches me Spanish." Captain Burke benevo 
 lently repressed an impulse to ask what else she taught him ; 
 he had a fellow-feeling for the young man does not all the 
 world love a lover ? And we went up the stone steps leading 
 to the inner balcony around the second floor of the establish 
 ment, which seems to be a universal feature of Mexican archi 
 tecture; and Jefferson s mother came out and welcomed us 
 with a manner so kind and dignified and gracious that one of 
 us, who, to tell the truth, had been wondering what an actress 
 would be like, felt at once a touch of shame, and a great ad 
 miration. Captain Burke, who, since this episode, has 
 very frequently been asked to describe Mrs. Jefferson, has 
 never been able to say more than that she did not strike him 
 as a noticeably pretty woman, although it is said she "made 
 up" (as they call it) in a royally beautiful style on the stage, 
 where, however, he never had the good fortune to see her. 
 She had a sweet, tired face, a lovely voice, a great deal of 
 perfectly natural and spontaneous grace in movement. I do 
 not think the richest or most exalted people in the world could 
 have offered a more charming hospitality than Mrs. Jefferson 
 contrived with the very little that she had; and I am afraid 
 Mr. Burke sat down to their supper and that famous pie with 
 scarcely any pressing in disgraceful eagerness. It was weeks 
 since the young fellow had seen anything like an American 
 home, or spoken to a woman. Long afterwards his hostess 
 told him, with her kind and gentle laughter, that his delight 
 was almost pathetic. "And really, General (it s general 
 now, isn t it?), our table was awful cracked china, and 
 not enough plates to go around, and hardly anything to 
 put on the plates ! " Burke remembered it as one of the best 
 meals he ever ate in his life; and he stayed an unconscionable 
 time after it, talking to her on the balcony, while the stars 
 came out and looked down into the little courtyard, and 
 young Joseph, having stolen off, was whispering at his 
 sweetheart s window in Spanish, no doubt somewhere 
 below us. 
 
SOME NEW FRIENDS AND ONE OLD ONE 367 
 
 The captain took his way thence, intending to find a berth 
 for himself in some sort of rooming-house in the Calle Gua 
 najuato, which Ridgely had pointed out to him as a likely 
 place earlier in the day. There was still a crowd abroad 
 as he walked along in the middle of the street, as had been 
 enjoined upon him. An unnecessary precaution, Burke 
 thought; the streets were not much darker than those at 
 home, where, as yet, there were no gas-lamps, and the people 
 no different from those one might have seen at this hour in 
 certain quarters of his own city all kinds of men, and one 
 kind of women. As a matter of fact he got no notice, hostile 
 or otherwise, from either, until, reaching a corner, he stood 
 still for a second in a little uncertainty about the right direc 
 tion, looking up and down. There was a lamp bracketed 
 against the angle of the building high up overhead; he re 
 membered afterwards, with a curious nicety, the look of the 
 plastered wall tinted a strong pink, with a barred window 
 surrounded by a make-believe cornice and mouldings painted 
 on the flat surface like a drop-scene in a theatre; across the 
 narrow way there was a pulque-shop, "El Sueno De Amor" 
 daubed in flourishing black letters over the door. A woman 
 came out from the shadows of a near-by alley, and touched 
 him on the arm. She almost immediately shrank back, some 
 speech which she had been beginning arrested in inarticulate 
 sound ; she shrank back against the pink wall, the scarf over 
 her head fell down, she stared at him with a ghastly face. 
 Nathan looked at her, startled; he made a step forward a 
 step back. 
 
 "Nance!" he cried out; "Nance!" 
 
CHAPTER III 
 
 MATAMOROS 
 
 
 
 SHE did not answer, and for one swift moment Burke 
 fancied he must be mistaken. "I I thought it was I 
 thought I knew " he began to mumble; the words died in 
 his throat in an inexpressible confusion of doubt, wonder, 
 reluctant certainty, formless dismay. She moved as if to 
 put up her hands before her cheeks which bloomed with 
 a pitiful unnatural red color under the direct light then 
 let them drop as suddenly. " Nance!" said Burke again, 
 involuntarily lowering his voice as he gazed into her pallid 
 face pallid with all its mock roses and her great eyes. 
 Merciful God, what feeling was it of heart-sickening sus 
 picion and shame and distress that prompted him to that 
 secrecy ? 
 
 "I didn t know it was you, Nat," she said in an under 
 tone, too. She paused, perhaps to collect herself, and then 
 spoke quite firmly and deliberately: "I just thought it was 
 an officer one of the officers, I didn t know which one 
 I just saw it was one of the officers in the army." 
 
 "What do you want with what are you doing here?" 
 said Nathan, hoarsely. The question came unwilled to his 
 lips; it was so he greeted her after all these years ! 
 
 "I guess you know," said Nance. She pulled her scarf, 
 a cheap black lace thing affecting the Spanish style, up over 
 her head and her black glossy hair, carefully dressed with a 
 red artificial rose and gilt gewgaws stuck amongst the braids, 
 straightening the folds with a kind of mechanical coquetry. 
 "If I d thought quick enough, I d have got away before you 
 had a chance to see who it was. But I was kind of taken 
 by surprise. I thought you was just some one of tha offi 
 cers 
 
 "Oh, for God s sake, Nance, don t say that again don t 
 say it !" the young man burst out, almost with a sob. The 
 cabin, the camp-fire, the serene forest, Darnell with his 
 
 368 
 
MATAMOROS 369 
 
 rifle, the girl in her red cotton frock old, old scenes and 
 memories rushed upon him; he felt a kind of agony of weak 
 compassion, miserable and helpless regret. Of the two, this 
 poor painted, bedecked, and not penitent Magdalen was by 
 far the more composed or, perhaps, whatever her real 
 emotion, she concealed it with the drilled and painful du 
 plicity of women. She looked at him silently without either 
 embarrassment or defiance. I suppose Mrs. Ducey would 
 have called her utterly shameless; yet no manner could have 
 been less brazen, farther removed from what is commonly 
 figured as that of the courtesan. She seemed, after the first 
 instant, to have accepted the situation, and to expect Burke 
 to accept it with a like philosophy. At the time of her 
 father s death she had betrayed something of the same dis 
 torted fatalism to call it that and the girl of five or 
 six years ago was strangely visible in the woman of to-day. 
 Whatever Nance s faults, dishonesty was not one of them; 
 when Nathan asked her what she was doing, she answered 
 with as much plainness of speech and manner (more, indeed, 
 than it has been possible to convey here) as a woman ever 
 employs towards a man too plainly, at least, to be misin 
 terpreted. He had known her since both of them could 
 remember, a brother could not have been nearer to her; one 
 ready lie might have made all smooth, so many men and 
 most women would have thought and she never thought 
 to utter it. The only alternative that occurred to her was 
 that of running away; and that chance lost, she knew no 
 devices to spare herself, and asked for no quarter. 
 
 They stood looking at each other for a long minute in 
 silence; then, as she turned slowly away, Nathan followed 
 her with a gesture. "Nance, where are you going?" 
 
 "Home, I guess. Back where I live, I mean." 
 
 He fell into step by her side. "You are living here?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Where?" asked Burke, aware of some subtle change in 
 her manner; she began to walk so hurriedly he had to 
 lengthen his stride to keep up with her. And at the last 
 question she hesitated perceptibly before answering: 
 
 " It s it s up the street off there. It s a good ways " 
 
 "I ll go with you I want to see you - Burke was 
 beginning, when, to his bewilderment, she stopped short, 
 
 2B 
 
370 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 cowering away as if he had offered to strike her. They had 
 left the zone of lamplight, and he could see her face only 
 imperfectly in the dusk, but there was no mistaking her 
 attitude of almost frenzied repugnance and entreaty. She 
 clasped and wrung her hands together, her voice came in 
 a kind of hoarse shriek. "Oh, Nat, Nat Burke not you! 
 Oh, please, Nathan, oh, please go away, oh, please go back " 
 she began to cry, with long shuddering gasps like a child. 
 
 "Go away?" repeated Nathan, puzzled and moved and, 
 in fact, rather frightened. "Why? What for? Don t 
 cry that way, Nance, don t you ll hurt yourself. Do you 
 think I care what kind of a place you live in ? Don t you 
 want me to see it? I I just wanted to know how 
 how it happened. If you d rather not talk to me if 
 you d rather I didn t know if it s too hard for you to tell 
 me, you know I ll go away. Only you know nothing 
 you could do or say or or be could make any difference 
 in the way I ve always felt about you you believe that, 
 don t you ? Lord Almighty knows I m not so good I can 
 set myself up to judge people!" said the young fellow, awk 
 wardly enough, but in all earnestness and humility. He 
 was afraid lest something he had said or left unsaid, in the 
 pain and confusion of their meeting, might have seemed to 
 her an assumption of the judge s attitude than which 
 nothing could have been farther from his mind. Let him 
 that is without sin cast the first stone. 
 
 The words seemed to quiet her; her sobs and ejaculations 
 ceased at last. " I guess I m kind of half crazy, Nat," she 
 said brokenly; " I might have known you wouldn t want 
 but I ve I ve got to thinking of that the first thing I 
 I can t help it, Nathan. I ve just got into that way of 
 thinking. A person does, you know - *- a woman, I mean 
 that that lives the way I do. You can t get away from 
 it it s just like all the men was brutes and the women, 
 too, for that matter. There don t seem to be anything else 
 only just that. People don t know and a great deal 
 more in the same incoherent and hysterical strain which 
 Burke put down to overwrought nerves and a shattered 
 body, as he walked by her side and listened to her. He could 
 make nothing sensible out of it at the time, except that she 
 seemed to think she must apologize for her seizure; and it 
 
MATAMOROS 371 
 
 was not until long afterwards, in recalling this conversation, 
 every word of which he will remember to his dying day, that 
 comprehension came slowly to him with a wretched shame 
 and self-abasement of what the poor thing meant, of what 
 she had momentarily supposed him capable. 
 
 The house where Nance lived was in one of the water 
 side streets I have forgot the name, if indeed I ever no 
 ticed it with another pulque-shop under the corner, 
 "La Liu via de Oro" this time a name in which one might 
 discern a ghastly appropriateness whence issued a one- 
 eyed and dreadfully pock-marked wretch who opened the 
 heavy wooden doors into the patio with many leers, winks, 
 and nods; and Burke having given him a piece of money 
 for performing this office called unprintable good wishes 
 after the couple as they ascended the stone steps. At the 
 stair-head a fat hag, hanging over the iron balustrade, doubt 
 less to take stock of the prey her foragers had brought in, 
 bestowed a cataloguing glance on the officer; and presently 
 after a servant came with champagne to the door of the room. 
 There was no lack of feasting and drinking, laughter and 
 music, and gaudy decorations within those accursed walls. 
 Nance told Burke she had been there for two weeks. She 
 had come with a party of of actors. 
 
 "What! You were with those people?" Nathan cried 
 out. "Why, I saw them I saw them pass in their steam 
 boat. I was standing on the docks down at Camp Belknap 
 down at the river mouth." 
 
 "I know," said Nance, nodding; "that was the people. 
 But I didn t see you, Nat. Maybe I was in the cabin. I 
 don t know that I d have known you unless I was close to, 
 anyhow. You look a lot older, and then being in uniform 
 changes a man s looks. I didn t know you was with the 
 army. Them people I was with, they ain t actors them 
 women ain t there s pretty near all of em in this house 
 right now. They ain t any more actors than I am. We d 
 come over from N Orleans because of the army being here. 
 They was two men brought the lot." 
 
 "Where had you been before that?" 
 
 "Why in N Orleans in a house there, you know. Oh, 
 you mean before that f Why, I don t know everywheres 
 I guess ever so many places I had, anyway. Don t 
 
372 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 you want some champagne, Nathan ? Oh, well, you needn t 
 to, then, if you don t want." She put the bottle down with 
 a miserable reluctance. "I I drink some I drink about 
 as much as Pap useter, Nat, I you get to doing it, 
 you know you can t help yourself " 
 
 " I understand," said Nat, unhappily, 
 
 "I like the taste, though at least I did to begin with. 
 You know Pap didn t care nothing about how it tasted. 
 But I don t reckon he d ever drunk any champagne. It 
 kind of fixes you up when you ain t feeling good. And I 
 ain t feeling good a good part of the time, Nathan. I m 
 tired. When you re that way, you ve got to have something. 
 It don t last, of course; nothing lasts, I guess," she finished 
 musingly. 
 
 Burke thought with a pang of sorrowful apprehension as he 
 sat looking at her that this dreary aphorism might well 
 apply to poor Nance s own term of days in a world which 
 had not treated her too kindly. She was very thin, and as 
 he now began to notice, coughed with a slight persistent 
 cough ; her features had sharpened to a kind of hard delicacy, 
 there was a hollow at either temple where the blue vein 
 stood out distressingly; in this moment of repose she looked 
 quite old old and haggard yet she was a year younger 
 than himself. She sat in a sibyl-like attitude with her 
 black drapery, her white and tinted face, her chin in one 
 hand, her gloomy eyes fixed alas ! on the tin-foiled 
 bottle of wine. The lamp on the table threw a dingy halo 
 about her; it could not conquer the shadows of the high, 
 cold, shabbily gorgeous room, and Nance s slender figure in 
 a garish travesty of the Mexican costume, all flaring colors, 
 fringes, and paste jewelry, made the young man think of the 
 last flame leaping red and vivid upon some dim ash-heap. 
 A little longer and that unstable fire would flicker out in the 
 awful darkness that awaits both saint and sinner. 
 
 "Where did you go, Nance, when you you went away 
 first, you know?" he asked. "I hunted for you high and 
 low, as soon as I heard about about what had happened. 
 But that wasn t till a month afterwards." 
 
 "I knew you was hunting, knew it all the time. I hid. 
 I didn t want you to find me," she answered apathetically. 
 
 "You hid? From me?" 
 
MATAMOROS 373 
 
 "Yes, I hid. What good would it have done your finding 
 me ? By that time, anyhow ? Lots of people could have 
 told you, only they wouldn t you might have knowed 
 they wouldn t. They ain t any use trying to find out any 
 thing from em. That old White-Hat Sam, he could have 
 told you for one. Most everybody around where he lived 
 in them houses houses like this knew, but they weren t 
 going to tell. They never tell anything. Twasn t any use 
 your asking. Is White-Hat Sam alive yet, Nathan ?" 
 
 "I don t know whether he is or not, the villain the 
 old villain," Burke said, groaning out a curse in his help 
 less pain and anger. 
 
 She looked at him evidently surprised. "Why, what are 
 you down on poor old White-Hat for ? He was real good 
 to me. Oh, you think he he led me astray, like the 
 preachers say ? Well, he didn t, Nat; I did it myself " 
 
 "Nance!" 
 
 "I did it myself, I tell you. Nobody could a made me 
 if I hadn t chosen why, you know that, Nat Burke. What 
 are you looking so for ? " she demanded savagely. "Are you 
 thinking about Pap ? Don t you s pose I ve thought about 
 him ? He d have shot me with his old gun that he s lying 
 buried with he d have choked me to death with his two 
 hands ruther than see me this way in this place. Don t 
 you s pose I know that ? Just the same I did it of my own 
 free will and accord; there ain t nobody to blame that is 
 unless " she turned her eyes, which she had kept steadily 
 on the lamp during the last part of this speech, towards the 
 young man with a movement of sudden violence. "Na 
 than!" she said in a voice of desperate, of heart-rending 
 appeal; "Nathan, I never stole that breastpin, I never 
 stole it, I never touched it. You believe that, don t you ? 
 Nathan, I never lied in my life. You know I didn t take it, 
 you know I didn t take it." 
 
 "Why, of course, I know you didn t, Nance. I never 
 thought for a minute that you took it," said Burke, vigor 
 ously. 
 
 She went on, hardly heeding him, with wild gestures, 
 trembling all over her poor weak frame. "Why, what would 
 I have wanted with it, a thing like that ? I couldn t wear 
 it I couldn t sell it even if I wasn t honest just put 
 
374 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 it that way just say I wasn t honest why, I still had 
 too much sense to take it. She might know that, seems to 
 me. There was a dozen things in the house I could have 
 took any time, if I d wanted if I d been that kind. Why 
 didn t I take her money? I d had plenty of chances. She 
 wouldn t have missed it as quick and I could have spent 
 money." She stopped abruptly, looking at Burke with a 
 tortured face. "I can t help it, Nat I get to going over 
 and over it that way sometimes when I m by myself. I ll 
 go crazy yet, I guess if I don t die first." 
 
 " I know how it was. I went to Mrs. Ducey when I heard. 
 But I couldn t make her think any differently. I guess I 
 did more harm than good," said Nat, sadly. "I ve often 
 wished since that I had had gone to see you, and and 
 - why, I might have made it kind of easier for you, Nance, 
 I believe, knowing all about Mrs. Ducey the way I did 
 
 "Why, I don t know what you could have done, Nathan," 
 said Nance, simply; "person s got to live their own life, and get 
 along the best they can, you know. Mrs. Ducey s a good 
 enough woman. Lord, I ain t holding it up against her, what 
 she done except times when I get mad at her, thinking about 
 it, like I did just now. Twasn t right, Nat. Twasn t fair. 
 But there! People can t be any better than they re smart 
 enough to be. It was hard it was hard. I was just a wild 
 sort of fool girl, you know, Nathan. Why, I thought Mrs. 
 Ducey was just an angel from heaven I d always been kind 
 of crazy about her. I remember Pap laughing at me about 
 that. And it was good of her, it was a kind, good thing to 
 do to take me and try to make something out of me. She 
 could have done it, she could have done it, Nat, if she d went 
 at it different I was ready to lie down and let her walk 
 over me. It s kind of pitiful to think how I felt about her. 
 And she was just as kind to me as she knew how but, my 
 God, Nathan Burke, that ain t no way to be kind to people, 
 like they was dogs. You ve got to be kind to em like they 
 was men and women. Soon s I found out how it was, I 
 wanted to pay her back for her kindness understand ? 
 I d have gone back to the farm, or got another job some- 
 wheres, only I wanted for her to get some use out of me, s long s 
 she thought she was doing so much for me I wanted to be 
 worth my keep to her. Pap wouldn t have had me beholden 
 
MATAMOROS 375 
 
 to nobody. Hadn t been for that I wouldn t have stayed 
 after the first two-three months. Nathan, I done my 
 very best. I worked hard I tried to do the way she 
 wanted I tried to please her I couldn t stand that boy 
 of hers I never heard of anybody that could but I done 
 my best. And Mr. Ducey is a real kind man, too, Nat. I 
 guess you know that. He ain t smart, but he means well. 
 He sorter stood up for me bout the breastpin but it didn t 
 do any good." She had to pause in a paroxysm of cough 
 ing. Nathan, listening, was conscious only of pity when 
 I suppose the knowledge of what Nance had become, of the 
 depths to which she had fallen in spite of the opportunities 
 she had had to rise, ought to have filled him with horror and 
 aversion. Not one good, or, as the phrase goes, honest 
 woman on earth would have spoken to her would have 
 touched her with a pair of tongs ! much less sympathized 
 with her. . Yet to his perverted view, she was not wholly 
 blamable, wholly corrupt. She was willing; she was rea 
 sonable; she had the root, at least, of humanity and justice, 
 he thought. And that she plainly felt the disgrace of imputed 
 theft so keenly, and the disgrace of her present position not 
 at all, was one of those contradictions which are still, some 
 way, somehow, perfectly comprehensible. 
 
 She went on, prompted by a question now and then, but 
 for the most part talking with a freedom that probably 
 relieved her. After being turned away from Governor 
 Gwynne s, she had found another place only to be discharged 
 again in about a week s time. Her story seemed to be 
 common property by this, and dogged her unerringly. It 
 was the kitchen-and-backstairs-gossip of the whole town. 
 "Them things get around like everything, Nat," she said, 
 without any show of anger or resentment, however; rather 
 as stating a curious and noteworthy fact. "I reckon Mrs. 
 Ducey thought she never told anybody I guess she didn t 
 mean to but it s awful easy for stories like that to get 
 started and keep going and getting worse as they go. All 
 them servants at Gwynne s knew, and of course they told 
 their friends and they told and so it went. "Nance 
 Darnell ? Why, she s the girl that stole a lady s breastpin, 
 or diamond necklace, or trunkful of gold dollars, or Lord 
 knows what!" One place the lady said she d heard bout me 
 
376 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 stealing that solid silver tea-service, and she was surprised 
 my showing my face in an honest person s house. The last 
 place I was in - - twas a boarding-house was kep by a 
 big, fat woman with an awful tongue, but she was kinder 
 than some. I stayed there a little longer than at most all 
 of the other places. She came in the kitchen the second 
 day I was there, and when she got a chanst, when there 
 wasn t nobody else round, she says, kind of looking at me 
 hard : Ain t you the Darnell girl that there s such a rowdy- 
 dow about ? I said, Yes, I am. She sort of waited for a 
 minute and when I didn t say anything, she says: Well, 
 speak up, can t you ? What have you got to say ? I said, 
 I ain t got anything to say, Mrs. Doane; I ll leave just as 
 soon as I get these dishes washed up. I didn t say for you 
 to go, she says, still just as rough as could be. I want you 
 to tell me bout it. I don t b lieve all the stories I hear 
 passed around, she says. Seems to me they make out like 
 you done too much. If you was as bad as they say, you d 
 a been in the Pen long ago. Now you tell me your side. 
 So I told her. She sat and studied awhile, then she says: 
 Well, Nance, I guess you can stay here. I guess I ll risk 
 you. Nathan, I done what I never done before, and I ain t 
 hardly ever done since, but when she said that, I begun to 
 cry. She was real good, that woman was. 
 
 "All the same, Nat, you know it wouldn t do you know 
 how things are. In a little the boarders got to knowing 
 about me, and then every time one of em missed a shoe- 
 button don t you see ? Mrs. Doane come and told me 
 herself, and she felt bad because she she believed in me, 
 and she wanted to help me. But Nance, she says, "tain t 
 any use. If any of em should lose something, they d blame 
 it on you right off. They d say you took it if it couldn t 
 be found; and if it was found, they d say you put it back 
 because you was scairt. I can t help it I got to let you 
 go I hate to it s a dog-mean thing to do but it s my 
 bread-and-butter, you know. I ve got to live, and I got to 
 keep this boarding-house, and I can t have the people feel 
 ing that way. But, she says, I m going to give you a letter 
 to a friend of mine that lives over to Newark, and she ll 
 take you in and give you a place in her house, and nobody 
 knows anything about you over there, nor they don t need 
 
MATAMOROS 377 
 
 to know! She give me a dollar, too, Nat, when I went 
 away. And she didn t have much either, pore woman 
 it s a dog s life, keeping boarders." 
 
 Nance paused again; and a great gust of laughter, men s 
 and women s voices together, the screaking of a fiddle, and 
 a dog yelping in a melancholy cadence at some door not 
 far distant, broke in upon them. Burke doubted if his com 
 panion heard it; she sat silent for so long even after the 
 noise had died down that he at last said, "So then you went 
 to Newark?" 
 
 She started, looked at him with a vague smile, and shook 
 her head. "No, I didn t go, Nat. I could a gone, of course; 
 and mebbe I d a got into some good people s home 
 mebbe. You can t tell. Mebbe it would have been the 
 same thing over again, I didn t feel s if I could stand any 
 more of that. I was tired-like. There ain t much a girl 
 can do with a thing like that sort of hanging over her the 
 everlasting time, you know. You can t get away from it 
 if you re a girl like a man can. Man can pick up and go 
 anywheres a thousand mile off yes, you could go barefoot, 
 and sleep in a haystack, and work your way on a keel-boat, 
 and nobody wouldn t think anything of it, nor pay no ten- 
 tion to how you did. But a girl all alone first thing folks 
 want to know is who is she, and where d she come from and 
 what was she doing the last place she was at ? Seems funny, 
 a girl can t begin to do half the harm a man can, and 
 people are ever so much more scared of her ! I said thanky 
 to Mrs. Doane, and I went away and I ain t never seen her 
 since. I s pose she thinks I wasn t any good after all, an 
 a thief spite of everything I tried to make her b lieve. 
 
 "At first I wasn t quite certain but what I d go to New 
 ark. Only I d had to walk, you know, because I didn t 
 have no money for to hire a seat in the coach; and Newark s 
 a good piece off, sixty or seventy mile I reckon. I remember 
 it was kind of freezin weather with slush on top of the ice 
 twas in January. I remember thinking bout how it 
 was getting along towards Miss Gwynne s wedding-day; 
 I d heard em say how she was to be married sometime in 
 January. Twasn t extra good weather for a bride. I 
 walked around a good while kind of planning and studying 
 bout Newark I had to walk the street, you know I 
 
378 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 didn t have nowhere to go. They was a place I d gone to 
 before in between whiles when I didn t have a job, but the 
 woman she told me she didn t have no room for me this time, 
 and I knew twas because she d heard, and she didn t keer 
 for to have me in the house. She knew my name I never 
 lied to anybody bout it. I just walked round. Some 
 times I d go into a store and set by the stove and warm my 
 self for a spell; but I didn t like to much, because I didn t 
 have but a dollar-seventy-five my wages and what Mrs. 
 Doane give me and I couldn t buy anything, and the 
 young men they had clerking would come and ask me what 
 I wanted, and when I said I didn t want nothing, they d look 
 kind of queer. And I got a notion mebbe some of em knew 
 bout me. If they did, they d be scairt I d take something, 
 and I thought they watched me pretty close. Seems like 
 I must V walked miles and miles that day pretty nigh 
 enough to get me to Newark, if I d started that way, I 
 wouldn t wonder. Then first you know it come dark the 
 days is awful short, you know, in winter and there I was, 
 and all to oncet I remembered I hadn t et nothing since 
 morning. I d been thinking so hard I hadn t noticed where 
 I was going, but when I looked up twas Water Street. It s 
 a quiet-looking street in day-time, you know. I set down 
 on a doorstep." 
 
 "You didn t know what kind of a " 
 
 "Yes, I did, Nathan," she said patiently; "I told you 
 before I knew all about what I was doing. I knew j ust what 
 kind of a name the street had. I was plumb tired out, and 
 it was dark blind-man s holiday, you know so s nobody 
 could see me very well, and if they did, what difference would 
 it make ? Them people wouldn t care, nor me neither. I 
 set there, and I b lieve I must have dozed off, for all to oncet 
 I felt somebody take me by the shoulder and give me a shake, 
 only not rough, you know, just a right smart shake to wake 
 me up, and says: Say, what you doing here? What s the 
 matter of you ? Get up ! When I got good and waked up, 
 I see it was a woman, all dressed to kill, with a bunnit on with 
 feathers, and a long gold chain and watch, and a fur cape and 
 muff sables, they was and a laylock-colored silk dress; 
 she was painted, too; I could see her face because somebody 
 had opened the door, and the hall-lamp was lit and shining 
 
MATAMOROS 379 
 
 straight on her. She wasn t very young she had a false 
 front. They was elegant chairs and things in the hall, too. 
 I said, Ma am, was I asleep ? sort of dumb like. For a 
 minute I couldn t remember where I was. Asleep ! she 
 says; well, I reckon you was, and sound too. Y ain t 
 drunk. What you setting there for? You don t b long 
 here. I ast her if it was her house. She says: Yes, it s 
 mine. Who you looking for? Nobody, ! says; I ain t 
 got anywhere to go, that s all, so I just set down on your step 
 for to rest. I didn t know whose house it was. I didn t 
 mean to go to sleep. Well, I should hope not, says the 
 woman. You d a froze to death in an hour or so. What 
 you mean by you ain t got anywhere to go ? Where s your 
 folks ? I told her I didn t have none. My God, you ain t 
 got anybody f she says. And then kinder sudden : Here, turn 
 round to the light. Let s look at you! They was two-three 
 more women some of em dressed up and some in frowsy 
 double-gowns come out of the doors into the hall, and looking 
 and listening by that time. She looked at me for a spell, and 
 then says : You re a right nice-looking girl, my dear, to be 
 out like this, lying round on doorsteps in the cold. Where s 
 your friend, you know? Mebbe I know him. I said, I 
 ain t got any friend, ma am. She kinder laughed, and said: 
 Oh, I know all about that. I mean your gentleman friend, 
 you know. Was you looking for him? I know a lot of gentle 
 men, and I wouldn t wonder if I ve met him. What s his 
 name? You needn t be afraid of me, my dear. I kept on 
 saying I hadn t any friend like that, so at last she said: 
 Well, never mind, if you don t want to tell. You can just 
 come inside anyhow, and get warm. So I went in." 
 
 Nance stopped; she got up to adjust the lamp which had 
 begun to smoke, and resumed her seat, absently stroking 
 down the folds of her skirt. She raised her eyes and met the 
 young man s expectant face with a shadowy surprise, and 
 then comprehension. 
 
 "I went in, Nat," she repeated with a kind of gentle dis 
 tinctness. "That s all. There ain t any more to tell. I 
 went in." 
 
 There was another very long silence. 
 
 "They hounded you out of their houses. And you were 
 cold and starving," Burke contrived to say at last. She 
 made a slight negative gesture. 
 
380 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 "You want to make out like I couldn t help it. But no 
 body made me do it I done it myself, just like I ve been 
 telling you. I was cold and hungry, but I guess I could a 
 made out a little longer, only the other was easier, I spose. 
 It s kinder hard for you to understand, I guess, Nathan, but 
 - why, women ain t near so good as men think they are, nor 
 as they think they are theirselves. Women like Mrs. Ducey 
 now, they just don t want to know bout emselves right deep 
 down they d be as mad as fury if anybody told em the 
 truth. But it s this way bout men and women : a man s got 
 to work or die that s all there is about it. But a woman 
 down in the bottom of her heart she s always thinking yes, 
 even if she don t know it, she s thinking just the same 
 1 Well, if the worst comes to the worst, there s always a way 
 for me! If you re Mrs. Ducey s kind, you just marry 
 somebody; if you ain t if you re like me, why . There 
 it is. And as for being wrong, that never stopped em yet. 
 It s what people will think and the way they may get treated 
 stops em. There wasn t anybody on earth caring for 
 me, and that made it easier still but I might a done it 
 anyhow. Only I didn t want you to know, Nat; I hoped 
 you d never know." 
 
 "I don t see why you didn t come to me to begin with." 
 
 She looked at him with an expression that strikingly re 
 produced that which he had seen on a dozen other female 
 faces whenever he had attempted to explain his interest in 
 Nance Darnell. "That wouldn t have done any good, Na 
 than. Can t you see that ? It don t do any good for a girl to 
 go to a young man when she s in trouble it only makes it 
 worse. And you couldn t have persuaded Mrs. Ducey any 
 different, anyhow. You said that yourself." 
 
 "Well, I can help you now surely, Nance," said Burke, 
 earnestly. "Look here, I ve I ve got plenty of money, 
 you know. I ve done pretty well. And I m just the same 
 as your brother. You d take it from me, wouldn t you ? I 
 want you to get out of this place. You can go somewhere, 
 and and live quietly, and nobody need ever know anything 
 about your your life. We ll find some little quiet place 
 something nice that you ll like, and and you can have 
 everything you want, and and and " 
 
 "And keep straight?" said Nance. She eyed him with a 
 
MATAMOROS 381 
 
 wistful smile in which there was something almost maternally 
 affectionate and forbearing. " It s good of you to think of that, 
 Nathan it s just like you it s good of you. And I don t 
 believe you ve got such a power of money either," she inter 
 polated acutely. "But you can t do it you can t take 
 care of me." 
 
 "Why can t I?" 
 
 "Because of what people would say, that s why. S pose 
 anybody d seen you with me, or coming in here ? What d 
 they think?" 
 
 "They could say and think what they pleased," said Burke, 
 impatiently. "I guess I can stand it. Do let me, Nance. 
 Let me for my own sake. It would make me kind of square 
 with myself. I ve always felt as if I hadn t acted right 
 as if I hadn t done all I could for you. And I promised your 
 father I d take care of you. It s just as if you were my 
 sister I wouldn t be ashamed to be seen anywhere with 
 you, Nance. You believe that, don t you?" 
 
 He spoke with warmth, and, as he believed, honestly. 
 Nance did not answer for a moment; then she said, irrele 
 vantly, "Are you married, Nat?" 
 
 "N-no," said the young fellow, startled, and feeling the 
 color rise in his face. She turned her searching gaze on him. 
 
 "Engaged? Yes? To one of those girls at home ? Which 
 one? What s her name?" 
 
 Burke stammered in a hideous confusion; his face was on 
 fire; he could not meet her steady black eyes, he could not 
 look at her. He thought he would have given a year out of 
 his life to have been able to force himself to the words; but 
 he could not. His head sank down on his breast, as he called 
 himself inwardly a coward and a brute. 
 
 "You see," said Nance, in a final tone, "you can t even 
 make yourself say her name in this house in this room 
 to me. You can t do it. That s the way a man feels about 
 his wife and his sister, Nat." 
 
 "Nance I I " 
 
 "That s what your not being ashamed and not caring 
 amounts to, you see," said Nance not at all reproachfully, 
 but with that same air of detached and impersonal observa 
 tion which, except in a rare moment or two of excitement, 
 she had maintained throughout this interview. 
 
382 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 "Nance!" said Burke, miserably; "I oh, forgive me 
 I - "he fairly put his face in his hands; he could have shed 
 tears of shame and pain and helpless anger at himself. 
 
 "Why, Lord, I m not blaming you, Nathan. Don t feel 
 so bad. You meant it when you said it, only you didn t 
 stop to think. And you want to do for me. But I can t 
 go back and be a a be like I was; no more can you 
 feel bout me s if I d always been kept straight. Tain t 
 in natur . You couldn t even me up with your wife you 
 couldn t let your wife know anything bout me. You think 
 you wouldn t mind for anybody to know that you was tak 
 ing care of me but would you tell anybody ? You might 
 swear yourself black in the face, and would anybody believe 
 you that it was it was all right? I ain t going to spoil 
 your life that way, Nat I won t let you spoil it." 
 
 It was not easy to move her from this position; and strange 
 now to Burke to reflect that a character so strong or, at least 
 so decided, should ever have committed so sadly irremediable 
 an error; and, having committed it and entered upon the 
 dark Avernian way, should still possess something of its 
 ancient force, undefined and unweakened. Yet Burke did 
 not leave her until he had partially at any rate won his point ; 
 he made her take enough money to provide for her actual 
 wants more she absolutely refused and wrung a prom 
 ise from her to see him within a few days when he hoped 
 to get leave to visit Matamoros again. Day was breaking 
 as he left the place; the dogs were slinking away from the 
 offal-heaps; there were natives stirring about the streets 
 with their blankets up about their eyes, with their sandalled 
 feet. He found the house in the Calle Guanajuato where 
 the porter had already unbarred the doors; and rolled up in 
 his soldier s overcoat and slept on a bench for an hour until 
 the reveille, sounding far and sweet across the river at Fort 
 Brown, awoke him. 
 
CHAPTER IV 
 
 ALARUMS. EXCURSIONS 
 
 ALL the while that Captain Burke s small affairs were 
 being transacted, and while our gradually increasing army 
 lay at the Brazos, at Camp Belknap, at Burito, sweltering 
 and shivering by turns, bragging, squabbling, drilling, sky 
 larking, contracting dysentery, camp-fever, and a dozen other 
 ills making trial, in a word, of the pleasures and hard 
 ships incident to the paths of glory all this while history 
 was marching forward, and those tolerably weighty events 
 were coming to pass which you may read about to-day, set 
 forth in a single short paragraph of Johnny s school-book. 
 The young gentleman himself considers it pretty dull stuff, 
 I dare say; although he is a well-meaning boy, he can hardly 
 keep awake to memorize it. I never yet fell in with a pupil 
 of any grade from Primary up to the closing year of High 
 School who knew a thing in the world about the Mexican 
 War, or, to tell the dismal truth, cared. Why should they ? 
 The most of us took very little interest in our adversary, 
 and felt no slightest enmity towards him, even in the heat of 
 the quarrel. It is all over these forty years ; we have forgot 
 it in the stress of our own private troubles. The widows 
 and orphans of 46- 47 have passed, or are passing with their 
 generation; the battlefields are grown up in "chaparral," 
 for what I know. We have made friends with the Republic 
 across the Rio Grande, and it is a good thing to wipe the slate 
 clean. Even General Burke (Bvt.), who prides himself on a 
 ready and accurate memory, and who thought he could 
 recall in detail everything of importance that took place 
 during those years, was astonished to find, upon taking up 
 our little fellow s book the other day, how far astray were 
 his vaunted recollections. Such is a young man s absorp 
 tion in his own personal concerns, that while, as has been 
 seen, Burke remembers most vividly and faithfully what 
 
 383 
 
384 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 happened under his own eye and touched him nearly, he is 
 quite incapable of a general view, as one might call it, of 
 the great events of the day. For an excuse it ought to be 
 noted that the news we got in camp, whether full or scanty, 
 was alike perfectly unreliable and contradictory, now for 
 peace, now for war, now bloody and terrible, now merely 
 inane. A score of armies of our size could not have per 
 formed the manoeuvres General Taylor was credited with 
 projecting; nor could a score of General Taylors have been 
 in the different places he was supposed to be, or said the 
 different things fathered upon him. We wearied of this 
 mad gossip; we cared more about letters from home than 
 for the whole tribe of Presidents, Cabinets, and Generals. 1 
 Supposing Ampudia were advancing from Monterey to over 
 whelm us ? The report might or might not be true we 
 knew for a certainty that the baby had cut a tooth. Say 
 we were to march on Monterey to-morrow and what of 
 that ? The south field had yielded thirty bushels to the 
 acre, by thunder ! It was towards the end of August, I 
 think, that we got the news true for once ! of another 
 revolution in that unfortunate country we were come to 
 conquer. Paredes was a prisoner; Gomez Farias had been 
 declared provisional president; Santa Anna was again at the 
 head of the army. Santa Anna! Maybe we d have some 
 fighting now! Men, remember the Alamo ! Captain Burke 
 was not one-half so interested in this report as in the dire 
 fact that our mail from the States had been lost, or the 
 carriers attacked, robbed, and murdered on the road. 
 
 Before and during the five or six weeks when the volun 
 teers were arriving, some detachments of regular troops under 
 Colonel Garland, Lieutenant-colonel Wilson, and others had 
 advanced up the river and into the country; and were now 
 occupying the Mexican towns of Reynosa, Mier, Camargo, 
 and various scattered outposts which had been surrendered 
 to them with little or no resistance. Many times, it was 
 said, the village would clear out, bag and baggage, officers 
 and men, padre, alcalde, citizens, dogs, and donkeys, upon 
 
 1 1 remember being told in this connection by the officer in charge 
 of our regimental mail that fully nine- tenths of the men s letters 
 were addressed to women. N. B. 
 
ALARUMS. EXCURSIONS 385 
 
 our approach a proceeding which naturally increased that 
 feeling of contempt which already filled the breast of every 
 right-minded volunteer. Perhaps the regulars could have 
 corrected some of our notions; but these gentry came and 
 went with an air of attending strictly to their own business, 
 seldom foregathering with the militia, and evidently in ex 
 pectation that the brunt of the fighting would fall to them 
 as, indeed, in some instances it did. I have seen a hard, 
 silent, experienced old sergeant who, by-the-way, kept his 
 accoutrements in better order, his quarters cleaner, and him 
 self infinitely more comfortable than the smartest of our 
 volunteers, without nearly so much trouble I have seen 
 one of these standing by or lounging on a bench, listening with 
 something like a smile on his leathery old countenance to a 
 squad of lads, the Arkansas, Pennsylvania, or Kentucky 
 Infantry, very likely, mowing down whole regiments of Mexi 
 cans in prospective, enacting prodigies of valor, and " conquer 
 ing a peace" which was the catchword of those days 
 with hardly a blow from the other side. "Don t the Mexi 
 cans ever fight ?" Burke one day asked a veteran of this class. 
 He saluted, "Yes, sir," he said and that was all he said. 
 Lieutenant Ridgely (being pressed) had been overheard to 
 admit that it was "pretty hot" at Palo Alto; and someone 
 told Burke that the "Garda Costa" battalion, recruited at 
 Tampico, had fought " like devils," and out of their whole 
 number, two hundred and fifty, had left two hundred on the 
 field. Nevertheless, amongst the thousand-and-one rumors 
 that sped about the camp, the only one that never gained 
 credence was that which attributed a particle of courage and 
 spirit to our enemy. 
 
 Lieutenant Ducey, a prodigious fire-eater, as we have seen, 
 never lost an opportunity of expressing his impatience to be 
 on the move against these poltroons; it would have been a 
 war of extermination if George had had his way; and I be 
 lieve he considered our general s just and merciful policy 
 towards the natives as a mere exhibition of the latent weak 
 ness of Taylor s character. " Perfectly absurd, Burke, perfect 
 Tom-foolishness, this pampering of the Mexicans, and effort 
 to conciliate them order . . . all his command to observe 
 with the most scrupulous respect the rights of the inhabitants 
 who may be found in peaceful prosecution of their occupa- 
 2c 
 
386 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 tions and all the rest of it," said George, quoting from 
 those famous field orders of the general s, with high scorn and 
 indignation. " Aren t we in a conquered country, I d like 
 to know " 
 
 "Not quite conquered yet, George," said Burke, with a 
 laugh, as he stropped his razor. 
 
 "Pooh, just as good as conquered. Rights, hey? These 
 people haven t any rights any that civilized warfare would 
 take any notice of, anyway. They aren t fit for rights 
 they couldn t run the government to save em. And here s 
 another place where he says: Whatever may be needed for 
 the use of the army will be bought . . . and paid for at the 
 highest prices. The idea of having that printed in Spanish 
 and English and circulating it all over the country ! It 
 fairly offers a prize to the Mexican who can stick us for the 
 most money. Why, Taylor don t seem to know the first 
 thing about war ! He ought to subsist the army by foraging; 
 he ought just to take what he wants wherever he can find it. 
 That s the way to carry on war. And that s what Secretary 
 Marcy wants him to do anyhow; the War Department s 
 told him so over and over again don t do any good, he just 
 bulls right ahead his own way. It s my opinion Taylor s not 
 the brightest man in the world, Burke, not not a heavy 
 weight, you know. He s throwing away Uncle Sam s money, 
 that s what he s doing spending money that ain t his, by 
 jingo! I ve got my opinion about any man that ll do that!" 
 said the severe George, who certainly could not be accused of 
 encouraging the Mexicans in their extortionate practices 
 by any particular free-handedness on his own part. As 
 usual it was impossible to say what became of George s 
 money, yet he was chronically out of pocket and in debt. 
 And he now added, after a moment of silence in which he sat 
 on the edge of Burke s camp-cot, watching the latter gentle 
 man shave himself by a little tin-like mirror suspended from 
 the ridge-pole of the tent, "Say, you got any money, Nat ?" 
 
 "I guess so some not very much," said Burke, tool 
 ing carefully around his chin. He had, in fact, parted with 
 all he could conveniently spare to his poor friend at Mata- 
 moros, and had been calculating on the arrival of pay-day, 
 due, we understood, in a week or so, with a rather abnormal 
 impatience. [Perhaps, in justice to both young men, it 
 
ALARUMS. EXCURSIONS 387 
 
 should be noted here that, owing to departmental inex 
 perience or incompetency, the pay of our troops throughout 
 this war was very delayed, irregular, and uncertain. I re 
 call one period of eight months when the men were without 
 their wages. And whereas the sensible, and one would sup 
 pose the natural, course would have been to send us gold, 
 we received on more than one occasion drafts which we were 
 obliged to cash, at a ruinous discount, with some blood 
 sucking native money-changer.] 
 
 (This note seems to have been written at some later date 
 than the rest of the manuscript and is on a separate sheet 
 of paper, pasted in. M. S. W.) 
 
 "How much do you need ?" Burke asked him. 
 
 "Oh, I don t know fifteen or twenty dollars, just to last 
 till I get my pay," said George, who knew, and knew that 
 Burke knew, that his pay was already anticipated to the last 
 penny. "7 guess you can let me have it, 
 Nathan, hey ?" he finished in a voice so charged with meaning, 
 and a manner so nearly verging on the peremptory, that the 
 captain turned his face from the mirror, and looked down 
 upon him, puzzled. 
 
 "I ll pay you back the minute I get my money, of course 
 you know that, of course, Nat," George cried, more humbly 
 this time, and shrinking from the other s eyes. 
 
 "Do you owe anybody ? " said Burke, asking his invariable 
 question. "If you do, bring me the bill, or tell me who the 
 fellow is, and I ll settle with him if I can. But I tell you flat 
 I m not going to let you have any more money to fool away 
 I can t afford it. You ll have to hunt up somebody else to 
 borrow from. I don t know what you do with it, but you 
 ought to have more backbone than to borrow this way all the 
 time, and then keep these poor devils of Mexicans waiting 
 for their wretched little dribs. There s that fellow in the 
 Rifles that Kentucky man what s his name? Burn- 
 ham? have you paid him yet? He told me himself, he 
 thinks we re cousins. Told me you borrowed of him to buy a 
 Mexican saddle and bridle, all over silver stuff. What do yo 
 want with a thing like that? You haven t any horse. It s 
 time you grew up, George, and got some sense of responsibil 
 ity. You re a good ways off from your mother and father 
 now, and you ve got to strike out for yourself. How do you 
 
388 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 suppose they d like it if they knew you were running in 
 debt and getting behind this way right along ? " He lectured 
 his subordinate as if George had been a child indeed; he was 
 tired of these petty demands tired of explaining that 
 Lieutenant Ducey was no kin to him; the impossibility of 
 talking to George as man to man all at once seemed to him 
 exasperating. 
 
 The young fellow sat sulkily looking down at his beauti 
 fully polished boots; he was spick and span as customary; a 
 splendid fragrance of pomatum floated up from his waved and 
 shining black locks. What was going on underneath that 
 painstaking coiffure ? Or what agitating the set of faculties 
 that did duty for a soul within that squeezed, padded, 
 tailored body? After two or three false starts, he said, not 
 looking at Burke, in a tone strangely shaken by fright or 
 vexation or both. " You can just leave my father and mother 
 out of it, Mr. Nathan Burke, if you please. It s no business 
 of yours what they think about me. You think just because 
 you ve known me all my life you can preach at me all you 
 want. You re a nice person to preach, you are!" 
 
 " If you know me well enough to keep asking me for money, 
 you know me well enough to take what I ve got to say about 
 it," retorted the captain, epigrammatically. 
 
 " You d better look at home a little, seems to me, before 
 you re so damn quick about telling other people how they 
 ought to be. What d they think about me, hey ? What d 
 they think about you at home, if they knew ?" 
 
 "If they knew ? If they knew what ? " 
 
 "Oh, pretend you don t understand, of course, do! Inno 
 cence!" said George, sneering faintly with a ghastly and 
 ashen face. He was really terrified, although, Heaven 
 knows, Burke had no idea of intimidating him. It was not 
 possible to take George s feeble tantrums seriously. The 
 captain hardly listened to him, hardly noticed him; he was 
 used to these bursts of spite and nervousness. 
 
 "I don t know what you re talking about, George," he said, 
 gathering up his shaving tools; "I mean what I say, and I m 
 not alluding to your family in any disrespectful way. If 
 they- 
 
 " If they knew about you and that Darnell girl that 
 Nance Darnell, I guess you wouldn t be quite so high and 
 
ALARUMS. EXCURSIONS 389 
 
 mighty. How d you like to have everybody at home know 
 that, hey ? " shrieked George, desperately. He started up, 
 cowering back as if he expected a blow. 
 
 But Burke was thinking of no such thing. For an instant 
 he was too surprised at this sudden revelation of George s 
 acquaintance with his movements and affairs to speak, or do 
 anything but stare blankly. Yet after all why should George 
 not know why should anybody not know ? He had made 
 no effort at concealment. Had he hoped in his inmost heart 
 that nobody ever would find out ? The other began to 
 breathe less rapidly, even to assume a certain air of com 
 manding the situation when he observed the captain s con 
 fusion. For Nat was confused ; a hundred emotions besieged 
 him regret pity for Nance an angry contempt no 
 less for himself than for George uneasy anticipation 
 the pained consciousness that this was the very thing the 
 poor woman had foreseen and warned him of, in her bitter 
 intuition that their connection could not be explained with 
 out blame. 
 
 " Begin to feel a little differently about it now, I guess?" 
 said George, superbly insolent and secure. Nathan made an 
 abrupt movement he was only reassembling his brushes 
 and razors and the other jumped back a foot or more, in a 
 panic, clutching and feeling for his side-arms which, for 
 tunately, had been laid elsewhere, and were out of his reach. 
 Burke could have laughed at another time. 
 
 " Don t be a fool, George," he said. "I m not going to 
 hurt you. What is all this talk ? What do you know about 
 Nance Darnell?" 
 
 What George knew, or thought he knew, may be imagined ; 
 it appeared he had seen the two of them together in Mata- 
 moros, on the occasion of Burke s second visit there, had 
 tracked Nance to "La Liu via de Oro," and after some in 
 quiries, had drawn his own conclusions natural enough in 
 the circumstances, Burke owned inwardly. A great deal 
 more which never happened at all the young gentleman 
 supplied out of his own fervid fancy; and it occurred to 
 Burke with a vivid irony that George might possibly protest 
 too much. He was a very naive, high-colored, and incon 
 sequent liar; and had not the wit to know that the plain 
 truth of what he had seen would serve him better and be far 
 
390 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 more deadly unadorned. Nat himself offered no denials or 
 explanations, listening without a word; and I dare say it 
 would take a wiser man than George Ducey to distinguish 
 between innocent silence and guilty silence. I believe in my 
 soul we all see what we want to see, even the best disposed of 
 us, and close our eyes to the rest. George, at any rate, was 
 cock-sure of his inferences. 
 
 " Guess you think differently about some little matters 
 now, hey, Burke?" he repeated significantly, after a minute 
 or two of this mute reflection on both sides. Nathan looked 
 up inquiringly, meeting his eyes, and this time George did 
 not flinch. His face took on an indescribable expression at 
 once confident and wary. "You wouldn t much want the 
 home folks to know about it, would you?" he suggested. 
 "You wouldn t want Mary Sharpless to know, I guess." 
 And after a slight pause, "Got any money, Nat?" 
 
 Burke smote himself a blow on the knee in a sudden illumi 
 nation. " By the Lord ! " he exclaimed aloud. "Don t 
 jump out of your skin, George. I told you I wouldn t hurt 
 you. It s only that I couldn t make out for a minute what 
 you were driving at and I see it now! The idea is that if I 
 pay you, you won t tell on me isn t that it ?" 
 
 "Why I er that is yes only, of course " 
 George stammered, mightily disturbed by this exceedingly 
 undiplomatic plain speaking. The oblique paths were natu 
 ral to him; he had not even the courage of his foolishness. 
 Nor could Burke stir himself to indignation against so puny a 
 creature. 
 
 "This is a bad way to set about getting money, George," 
 he remarked judicially. 
 
 "Why, ain t you don t you haven t you got any to 
 give me? " queried the other, incredulous. 
 
 Captain Burke arose then; and recalling the vocabulary of 
 his earlier days, informed Lieutenant Ducey that he would 
 see him to to never mind where to a locality much 
 warmer than Mexico, before he would give, lend, or pay him 
 one cent. And furthermore, that the lieutenant had his 
 leave to write home anything and everything he something- 
 or-other pleased; winding up this highly seasoned harangue 
 -which, however, the captain delivered with a very calm 
 and moderate voice and a tranquil manner, having a toler- 
 
ALARUMS. EXCURSIONS 391 
 
 able control of himself at all times, and not being an excit 
 able man by inviting George to get out of his tent on the 
 instant, which the latter obeyed with a bewildered and down 
 cast countenance. 
 
 He had failed as all such blackmailing schemers should 
 fail ; and Burke almost smiled as he thought of the extraordi 
 nary simplicity of all rogues. How can any one, in conscience 
 and common sense, be expected to rely on a known rascal 
 keeping his bargain ? A man who will sell his silence at one 
 time, will sell his information at another, or give it away 
 when that suits his purpose. Yet there are rascals confi 
 dently attempting to trade on such terms every day and 
 not always unsuccessfully, either. Even Burke, who had 
 done no wrong, was not too agreeably moved by the vision 
 of what George would undoubtedly write. Nat knew very 
 well that if he had friends who would not believe it, there 
 were those, not exactly his enemies, who would believe it; 
 yet were he to be accused of any other crime in the calendar, 
 he thought his character sufficiently well known for nobody 
 to believe it! Let who will report you a perjurer, thief, 
 murderer or what-not, you will have some defenders; but 
 that of which George accused him is the one sin of which no 
 man is ever believed guiltless. 
 
 Nance had met him again as she had promised. The poor 
 thing had put on a dark, plain dress and washed the paint 
 off her thin face, which displayed instead two bright spots of 
 fever high up on either cheek-bone, under her cavernous eyes. 
 They sat in the alameda in the quiet shadows, and listened to 
 the band, and watched half a dozen brown Mexican lads 
 playing at bull-fight one bullet-headed little fellow about 
 ten years old performing as the bull with infinite zest, lower 
 ing his little black poll and charging the others full tilt, and 
 pawing the ground, when the small banderilleros advanced, 
 with the utmost dramatic faithfulness. Nance laughed 
 it was the only time Nathan heard her. She was humbly 
 happy and content with him until Ridgely passed and and 
 did not see them. 
 
 "That officer knew you, Nat, didn t he?" she asked a 
 moment afterwards, with the uncanny intuition of her sex. 
 " You know him ? " Burke reluctantly admitted that he did. 
 
392 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 "You didn t either of you speak," said Nance. " Never 
 mind, Nathan, don t go to making excuses. I I know why 
 you didn t speak." And in a little while she said she was 
 tired and would like to go "back" she never called the 
 place home. 
 
 " You see how it is, Nat," she said at the door. " I thought 
 mebbe mebbe nobody wouldn t notice me the way I 
 look, you know. But I guess tain t any use. It shows 
 it shows no matter what I got on." She looked down at her 
 poor shabby clothes regretfully. "It s just the way I said, 
 you can t do for me tain t fair for me to take it off n you. 
 It ll make you trouble sure as fate. You d better let me 
 go, Nat, you d orter let me go." 
 
 "That s all nonsense, and I m not going to let you go," 
 said Burke, stoutly. And he left her, I trust, a little heart 
 ened by his company and care. It was only a day or so later 
 that that interview with George Ducey, which has already 
 been recorded, took place. 
 
 Our days in camp began to be full of activity now; the 
 floating rumors condensed at last into the definite, authentic 
 information that we were to march we were to move upon 
 Camargo, a hundred and twenty-five miles up the river, as 
 soon as enough means of transportation could be got together. 
 That last was no easy or simple matter; our general "raked 
 and scraped the country for miles around collecting every 
 pack-mule," as he afterwards wrote to Washington, from 
 whence we had not been adequately prepared; and the dismal 
 intelligence was presently published in orders, that, as had 
 once before occurred, everybody couldn t go! "The limited 
 means of transportation and the uncertainty in regard to 
 supplies . . . imposes upon the commanding general the 
 necessity of taking into the field . . . only a moderate por 
 tion of the volunteer force now under his orders," we read 
 with long faces, and much anxiety. Of course the regulars 
 were to go, of course! Nobody ever doubted that for a 
 moment, and their officers were saved many heart-burnings. 
 Captain Burke was well-nigh in a fever until he learned oh, 
 blessed news ! that of the twelve companies selected from 
 the First Ohio, his was one owing, most probably, to the 
 happy circumstance of its name coming near the top of the 
 list in alphabetical order; and we were shortly assigned to 
 
ALARUMS. EXCURSIONS 393 
 
 Harrier s brigade of Butler s division, which was entirely com 
 posed of volunteers a very invidious distinction, some of 
 us thought. And behold how the whirligig of time brings in 
 its revenges! Hamer, who, when his name had been con 
 sidered for the colonelcy of our regiment, had handsomely 
 withdrawn in favor of Mitchell who was a West Point gradu 
 ate, had no more than witnessed our departure for the Rio 
 Grande than the government elevated him to a brigadier- 
 generalship, and he now might bear himself in centurion 
 fashion towards our commanding officer "Do this; and 
 he doeth it!" I never heard that there was any bad blood 
 between them over this, however; both got through the 
 campaign without a great deal of distinction, and it is now a 
 good many years since they died, each one in his bed, peace 
 ably and ingloriously like the run of us, as if neither had ever 
 flourished a sword and headed a charge against the enemies 
 of his country. The other brigade-commander in our divi 
 sion was General Quitman with the Tennessee regiment, and 
 his own Mississippians, as had been foretold for him. Burke s 
 friend, Kennard, and the Baltimore battalion were brigaded 
 in Worth s division of regulars the only volunteer organi 
 zation thus honored; and Kennard was so cocky about it 
 that we told him plainly there was no living with him. We 
 were all young fellows, adventurous, high-spirited, wildly 
 elated at the prospect of action ; we wanted to go somewhere, 
 anywhere, and take a fall out of the Mexicans; our ultimate 
 destination was uncertain, for, as somebody said, "old Taylor 
 was as silent as the grave"; but every one was confident 
 it was either Monterey or Saltillo. Ampudia perhaps 
 Santa Anna! was somewhere in our front; his light horse 
 and those terrific Mexican Lancers of whom we now began to 
 hear for the first time were reported to have been seen in a 
 dozen different places, fluttering over the country, and, it 
 must be added, scuttling off with amazing expedition for 
 such formidable bodies, whenever our heroes appeared. 
 Walker, making a reconnoissance in his frontier fashion, had 
 got quite close to their camp not far from Mier; McCullough 
 had a brush with them a few miles north of Revilla 
 Captain Benjamin McCullough, greatest of scouts, a figure 
 something in the style of Mr. Cooper s "Pathfinder." Most 
 of us were pretty well up in that piece of classic fiction. And 
 
394 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 whereas we had all been insufferably proud of our uniforms 
 and gilt braid at home, no sooner had we reached the seat of 
 war and beheld one of Walker s or McCullough s men than 
 we were consumed with envy; how we should have rejoiced 
 to change places! The Ranger was always a sunburned 
 young man, dressed anyhow, booted anyhow, with a slouched 
 hat and a slouching gait. He tied a bandanna handkerchief, 
 or, failing that, any soiled rag that came handy, about his 
 muscular throat; his ammunition-belt sloped in apparent 
 carelessness about his waist; he carried a pistol or a rifle as 
 best suited him, for every Ranger was a law unto himself in 
 that respect. He could ride anything that went on four legs, 
 he would as lief fight as eat, he slept, waked, ate, and drank 
 at his discretion, addressed his captain as "Ben," and had no 
 more notion of discipline, drill, or manoeuvres than an Ind 
 ian. He was a born fighter, but he would fight in his fron 
 tiersman s way which means that he considered himself 
 an army of one man, and planned his campaigns accordingly; 
 nor will anybody deny that his way served the circumstances 
 well, and had its influence on the fighting-schools of the world. 
 Burke, who had been brought up in the backwoods system, 
 was not so prejudiced but that he could perceive its disad 
 vantages; indeed he had got books of tactics and military 
 history and studied them diligently, and tried to inform 
 himself, before leaving home. But the old leaven was strong; 
 he would not have minded exchanging his shoulder-straps for 
 the Rangers costume, which seemed to him on the whole 
 much more sensible, appropriate, and comfortable for this 
 climate and this way of life than the stocks "black silk 
 or leather" the brimless little caps, and long-skirted coats 
 of our equipment. He talked to many of the Rangers, and 
 listened to their plain stories of adventure, hardship, reckless 
 and entirely unboasted bravery, with the same interest with 
 which, as a boy, he had followed Darnell. "How old Jake 
 would have liked this!" he sometimes thought with a smile. 
 In the midst of their preparations, Captain Burke, with the 
 best will in the world, had very little time to spare for his 
 private affairs or at least, for that which concerned him 
 most nearly, the girl at Matamoros. What he ought to do 
 about her, what was to become of her, gave him not a little 
 anxiety when he stopped to consider it; he could not take 
 
ALARUMS. EXCURSIONS 395 
 
 her, he disliked to leave her, and she herself displayed a 
 stubbornness about accepting his support which complicated 
 the question. Once he thought of enlisting Mrs. Jefferson s 
 sympathy, but dismissed the idea with a wry smile; that was 
 hopeless, as he knew too well from former experience; no 
 virtuous, good woman, no honest woman as the phrase 
 is would lend a hand to Nance Darnell. It was unfair to 
 expect it; they had their own children and families to think 
 of, and if for no other reason, must decline association of 
 any kind with her. The argument may sound cold-blooded, 
 but I should like to hear anybody refute it. Nathan some 
 times felt the problem to be without solution, at any rate for 
 him, who had a thousand other matters on his mind. The 
 condition of his company was not the least of these; he had 
 eighteen or twenty men on the sick list; every known dis 
 ease had broken out amongst them, it seemed to him, ex 
 cept the yellow fever, of which, strangely enough, there never 
 was a single case that I know of in the Rio Grande camp. 
 And this, too, although we were there in an unhealthy season 
 of the year, and the Mexicans were reported to be counting 
 on the assistance of General Vomito, as they said in a dreadful 
 sort of joke. At the time, however, Burke was in daily fear 
 of its appearance he might be a captain without a company 
 and how, then, could he go to Monterey, or wherever we 
 were bound? 
 
 All this was a borrowing of trouble, I find by reference to 
 that reliable publication out of which our schoolboy learns 
 or does not learn the history of his grandfather s cam 
 paigns, that the volunteer troops of the United States Army 
 began to march up the river on the llth of August, 1846. 
 Our first halt was at Matamoros where we were to lay a day 
 or so; and where Captain Burke s earliest care, after the 
 disposition of his command, was to visit "La Lluvia de Oro." 
 He was saluted by the pock-marked porter, to whom he was 
 now well known, with a grimace of vile suggestion; and then 
 this worthy handed him a letter intimating at the same time 
 that, to his own unmeasured distress, the captain was to be 
 disappointed. "La nina se fue!" he said, looking like a 
 benevolent gargoyle. 
 
 Burke surveyed him in perplexity, turning the letter in 
 his hand. He was not very glib at the Spanish tongue, and 
 
396 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 was uncertain whether he had understood correctly. "She s 
 gone away, you say? Is that it? Where?" 
 
 The man did not know. "Quien sabe?" He raised a 
 shoulder in a gesture that at once released him from all re 
 sponsibility, indicated his ignorance, and expressed his regret. 
 She had given him the letter for el Senor Capitan she had 
 forgotten to give him, Manuel, anything not the smallest 
 una propina. Did the Senor understand ? Something for 
 himself, Manuel was it not worth it? not everybody 
 could be trusted to deliver a letter, eh? Senor, a thousand 
 thanks ! 
 
 Burke walked away, disregarding Manuel s pressing invi 
 tation to come in and stay awhile. Nance had taken the 
 decision into her own hands, it seemed; the young man was 
 struck with horror and remorse at finding himself a little 
 relieved. He stopped near a stall at the corner of the market- 
 square, where two or three peon women were squatting in the 
 dust with their wares spread before them, and a mess bubbling 
 in an earthenware pan on their little brazier. An oil lamp 
 flared overhead. Burke opened the letter; it was written 
 in a cramped, formless hand on a single sheet of shining pink 
 note-paper, and began with the stilted phrases which the 
 volumes that professed to teach this kind of composition used 
 to recommend in those days. 
 
 "DEAR FREND NAT, 
 
 "I take up my pen to inform you that I am well and hope 
 you are the same, and when this meets yore eye I will be far 
 away. I am going away from here Nat and its no use yore 
 hunting me up becawse I dont meen you to find me. Theres 
 no use talking enny more about it Ive done enuff bad and I 
 dont want to do enny more least I dont want to hurt you. 
 And it woold hurt you Nathan if you was to have me hanging 
 onto you the hole time. That girl yore going to get married 
 too she woodent like it for one and I hope she wont never 
 know about me and you woold better not tell her becawse 
 she woodent ever get over wurrying you about me. I hope 
 youl be very happy marrid Nat and alluz treet her good like 
 you alluz done everybody and try and get home to the meals 
 on time becawse I riccolleck that used to wurry Mrs. Ducey 
 so about the men-folks not getting home to the meals on time. 
 
ALARUMS. EXCURSIONS 397 
 
 I gess most ladies like her and yore girl wurries about things 
 like that. And I hope youl have a little boy right away. I 
 hope it ant rong for me to put that in a letter to a jentelman. 
 So no more at present and goodbye from yore affexshunate 
 
 "NANCE. 
 
 " Ime afrade it ant wrote nor spelled very good but you 
 know I never had much scholing. Pleese dont try to hunt 
 me up. It done me good to see you Nat." 
 
 Nathan read it through twice; it had been written with 
 many painful erasures and corrections, yet was a sorry thing 
 at best. There was a large round blister beside the final 
 words, "It done me good to see you Nat." Burke looked at 
 it with a blur in his eyes. The women at his feet were cluck 
 ing and chattering together in their lingo and as he folded 
 up the paper and moved to go on, began a shrill crying of 
 their sweetmeats and tortillas to the American officer. The 
 sight of the food sickened him. He went back to his quarters 
 weary and heavy-hearted; and tossed all night long in his 
 unrefreshing slumbers. 
 
 It was not wholly depression of spirits that ailed the young 
 man, as he was inclined to imagine at the beginning. The 
 brigade moved in a couple of days ; it formed part of the field 
 division which was the last in the line of march, both Worth s 
 and Twiggs being in advance of us. And doubtless the First 
 Ohio made a brave appearance and stepped along as gallantly 
 as any other regiment in the volunteer service, even though 
 it was deprived temporarily of one of its most valuable 
 officers. For alas for glory and ambition! Captain Burke 
 lay very sick of the measles in the hospital at Matamoros, 
 and turning in his fever, saw wild visions and heard delirious 
 noises mingling with the tramp of the infantry beneath the 
 windows and the bugles sounding the march. 
 
CHAPTER V 
 IN WHICH THE WARRIOR LANGUISHES IN HIS TENT 
 
 THE disease of measles which children are expected to 
 endure as a matter of course and without a murmur is in 
 adult years accompanied by a prostrating fever, with cough- 
 ings, retchings, and other disorders that somewhat tax the 
 patience and philosophy of the sufferer. Burke, who upon 
 the appearance of its first symptoms had pooh-poohed our 
 regimental surgeon s orders, and announced his intention 
 of marching with the troops at their appointed time, in 
 twenty-four hours lapsed into a state when he was quite 
 indifferent to the movements of the army; and never retained 
 more than a hazy and distorted recollection of those days 
 when the malady was at its height. He went fishing with 
 Jake Darnell, he tried cases in court, he posted the ledger for 
 DUCEY & Co., he cut grass, he made love to Mary Sharp- 
 less; anon he came to his senses, and looked upon the high 
 ceiling towering overhead, and the blank walls, and the bare 
 red tile floor with a feeble wonder; and wanted to get up 
 because the reveille was sounding; and sank back once more 
 to his burning dreams. 
 
 During the first two days, if anything could have added to 
 the captain s fever, it would have been the hot coals figura 
 tively heaped upon his head by his first lieutenant. The 
 hospital at Matamoros like all the American army hospitals 
 in Mexico I tell the truth to our shame was an unwhole 
 some barracks, dirty, neglected, ill-supplied with medicines 
 or the proper food for invalids; and the nursing so incompe 
 tent that none but the most robust of the sick men stood much 
 chance of recovery, whatever their ills. In spite of all this, 
 George Ducey, the moment he heard of his senior s seizure, 
 hastened to this unattractive place, and for the remaining 
 time before the regiment marched, hardly left his bedside; 
 
 398 
 
THE WARRIOR LANGUISHES IN HIS TENT 399 
 
 nor could any one have asked a kinder, more patient, cheer 
 ful, and zealous attention. It was a work of genuine mercy 
 and charity; and showed that warm-heartedness of his 
 mother s which, as John Vardaman used to say, was the least 
 of Mrs. Ducey s good qualities and the best of George s. 
 Whatever cause Burke may have had to complain of him, 
 let me set this much down to George Ducey s credit; and I 
 may add that it was the only one of his actions about which 
 I never knew him to lie or boast. I am the more anxious 
 that it should be acknowledged, because, at the time, Nat 
 was scarcely conscious of the other s presence and care and 
 certainly must have seen him go without a word of thanks. 
 When he strove to recall what happened during this period of 
 his illness, he classed George with the rest of the phantoms 
 of that fever-haunted time with visions of his colonel and 
 other uniformed figures appearing, murmuring in the corners, 
 eying him from the foot of the bed, and drifting away 
 with the doctor, and with some dark-skinned Mexican 
 woman who was forever trying to make him drink. It was 
 from these latter that he afterwards learned of George s 
 devotion learned with a kind of shamed surprise. 
 
 When he arrived at the convalescent stage in a week or 
 more, for measles, if severe, are also mercifully of short dura 
 tion, and, being in clean physical condition when attacked, 
 Nat perhaps made a better recovery than had he been of a 
 weak or sickly habit, the army was gone excepting the 
 slight garrison Taylor had left behind to secure the post. 
 Matamoros had returned almost to its native calm; there 
 was an uncanny silence abroad; no more ordnance rumbling 
 through the contracted streets; no more Rangers, " bloody 
 with spurring, fiery red with haste," thundering in from the 
 country, jingling and clattering with straps and stirrup- 
 buckles, exactly as you may hear the mounted messengers 
 "off stage" when you go of a night to see " Shenandoah" 
 or Mr. Gillette in "Held by the Enemy." No more soldiers 
 drunk and sober, fighting or friendly, crowding the liquor- 
 shops to the doors, hurrahing and horse-playing, gambling, 
 cock-maining, throwing their money to the four winds. 
 Never before and probably never since had the stolid 
 little town known such a time of excitement and profit. 
 But lo, now even the saloon-keepers and faro-dealers packed 
 
400 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 up their stock in trade and took the trail for Camargo; per- 
 haps some of the " actors" too vultures all, battening on 
 the refuse of both armies. The Mexican tradesmen were 
 reappearing; the gentry, many of whom had fled in a panic 
 to their outlying haciendas on the approach of the Americans, 
 dug up their money and valuables and timidly returned. 
 "Still, the place is dead, perfectly dead. We re going back 
 to the States as soon as we can raise the money," a friend of 
 Burke s confided to him. 
 
 This was young Mr. Joseph Jefferson, who, happening 
 in his public station where all the gossip of the camp was 
 briskly circulated to hear of the captain s illness, came at 
 once to visit him, with that kind and hearty sympathy 
 which I am sure has always been characteristic of this gentle 
 man. At first he was not admitted, Burke s exceedingly 
 unromantic complaint being then at its worst; but his second 
 call found the invalid sitting up, weak and unshaven, and, 
 I think, displaying that hopeful sign, a furious bad temper. 
 
 "Where s your brother?" said Joseph, looking all about; 
 "that young fellow that was here taking care of you before, 
 I mean. He was your brother, wasn t he?" 
 
 Burke growled out, No, he wasn t he wasn t any kin 
 to him his name was Ducey he wished to Heaven 
 people wouldn t be everlastingly poking it at him that George 
 Ducey was his brother. Why, he d marched gone with 
 the army. 
 
 "It s a pity he had to go he was a mighty good nurse, 
 the doctor said." 
 
 "He was good to me," the other admitted rather shame 
 facedly; "I didn t know much about it. I ve been out of 
 my head right along." 
 
 "Yes. So they said. He knows Badger wasn t it 
 funny? Met him here in Matamoros, playing fa that is, 
 around somewhere in town, I mean," said Jefferson, correct 
 ing himself hastily. "But Ed didn t know his name, either 
 -half the time you don t ask people s names, there re so 
 many officers." 
 
 " Badger? Who s Badger? " 
 
 "Why, my partner, Ed Badger. Didn t you meet him 
 oh, no, I remember, he wasn t around the day you were there. 
 I ll bring him up some day soon to see you. There isn t 
 
THE WARRIOR LANGUISHES IN HIS TENT 401 
 
 anything to do now any more the bottom s out of the 
 coffee-and-pie business." 
 
 "Has the Grand Spanish Saloon gone up, too?" Burke 
 inquired with a flicker of interest. 
 
 " Nothing left of it but the bad name and fixtures," said 
 the boy with a sigh of humorous regret. " Trade fell off 
 terribly here when the army went, you know. There s 
 nobody to get drunk no Americans, that is. You can t 
 make a living getting the Mexicans drunk on pulque. It s 
 only about three cents a glass and they re wjialing big 
 glasses! Our proprietor got discouraged and quit. Mata- 
 moros was no place for an honest, hard-working fellow like 
 him. We re going, too " and he made the statement 
 quoted above. 
 
 He kept his word, to bring Mr. Badger, thinking, no doubt, 
 in the goodness of his heart, that Burke would like to meet 
 and talk to somebody who knew his dear friend Ducey, 
 whom, however, the actor only referred to very briefly and 
 with a queer side-glance at Nathan, which the latter thought 
 he understood. Nat was glad enough to make Badger s 
 acquaintance for his own sake; he was a most amiable and 
 genial man. He had been on the stage all his life, and was 
 now some twenty-eight or thirty years old, with a nonde 
 script, serviceable education picked up nobody knows how, 
 a pair of astonishingly long, active legs trained to various 
 tricks of dancing and drollery, the ideal face for Sam Weller, 
 and secret aspirations towards Hamlet. He was a great 
 deal funnier off the stage, and when he meant to be serious, 
 than on, when he wanted to be funny as I can testify, 
 having seen him in both localities. Joe and he, they said, 
 had appeared together in those comedy parts where the 
 humor is pointed and emphasized by a foot or so of difference 
 in height. But even in those young days Jefferson must 
 have been ten times the better actor. During the fortnight 
 while Burke was getting back his strength with a slowness 
 maddening to his impatient spirit the two young men used 
 to come and entertain him by the hour almost daily; they 
 read, they sang, they painted their faces, got out a pair of 
 " property" weapons and performed a broadsword combat 
 for him in character, with tremendous ha-mgs and stampings. 
 They spouted Shakespeare to the captain who had had few 
 
 2D 
 
402 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 opportunities of going to the theatre in our little city, and 
 had never witnessed a presentation of the dramas he so loved 
 to read. Honest Badger raged and roared and tore a pas 
 sion to tatters, swelling the veins in his neck, and rolling out 
 his r s with a grand good-will Bless me, I can hear him 
 now: "I d r-r-r-ather-r-r be a DOG, and BAY the MOON, than 
 such a RR-r-r-oman ! " These were Badger s conceptions of 
 high tragedy; whereas Jefferson made few gestures, and 
 seldom raised his voice out of an ordinary speaking tone, yet 
 the words sought one s very heart. I have heard him repeat 
 those lines of the poor little Prince Arthur 
 
 " So I were out of prison and kept sheep, 
 I should be merry as the day is long " 
 
 with an accent so simple, wistful, and touching, it brought 
 tears to the eyes. 
 
 The night before he left Matamoros, Captain Burke, 
 somewhat haggard about the jaws, and not so steady upon 
 his legs which now appeared even longer and lanker than 
 Badger s as he had been, but still in a tolerably fair way 
 towards his usual health, went to bid Mrs. Jefferson good- 
 by they themselves were going down to the Brazos in a 
 few days; and Burke spent the evening and got the lady 
 to recite for him the speech of Katharine before her judges, 
 a thing for nobility and dignity and womanliness long to 
 be remembered; he also displayed an appetite for dinner 
 which he has ever since recalled with shame; and he passed 
 some jokes about Metta who had another lover, a Mexican 
 lad with a belt full of knives to Joe s confusion; and came 
 away at last regretfully wondering if he would ever see them 
 again, players being a wandering tribe. Indeed, it was a 
 good while; the next time that he met Joseph was at least 
 twenty years later, when the latter was playing an engage 
 ment in Chicago it was "Rip Van Winkle," then newly 
 added to his repertory. Burke watched the performance, 
 and, I dare say, blew his nose with suspicious frequency 
 while it was going on, from an orchestra chair; and after the 
 second act ventured around to the stage door, and sent up 
 his card, having written "Matamoros" upon it for identifi 
 cation. But Rip remembered him at once, sent word for 
 General Burke to come up to his dressing-room, and as the 
 
THE WARRIOR LANGUISHES IN HIS TENT 403 
 
 latter entered, saluted him from the table where he was 
 engaged with grease paint and what-not in metamorphosing 
 a very active and youthful-looking man of thirty-five into 
 a decrepit personage with flowing white hair and a coat of 
 wonderful stage rags I say he saluted Burke with, "This 
 isn t a very good place for a boy like you, my son!" and they 
 both roared out laughing. 
 
 The captain also received a hearty God-speed from Mr. 
 Badger, who at this time had some notion of joining the army 
 himself, and asked all manner of absurd questions about the 
 needful steps. Edward, who was a harmlessly vain, good- 
 hearted, helter-skelter sort of fellow, rather fancied himself 
 in the costume, posing for a charge at the head of a division 
 no mere regiment or company would have satisfied him. 
 And I have no doubt he would have done his duty, and 
 carried himself bravely before the enemy. But, although 
 he did turn up in Monterey after the capitulation among the 
 hordes of Americans from everywhere and nowhere who 
 mysteriously swarmed into the place on the heels of our men, 
 Badger had by that time forgotten all about his military 
 ambitions; he had joined a circus company instead! Burke 
 hunted him up and tried in some measure to return his kind 
 nesses; and presently lost sight of him again when we 
 marched for Victoria. If the captain could have foreseen 
 the semi-tragic circumstances of his next meeting with this 
 jovial mountebank, what would have been his astonish 
 ment and dismay! 
 
 Captain Burke then moved upon Monterey in good 
 order, the first days of September, making all the speed he 
 could, for he knew that his associates of the field division 
 had by this time reached Camargo, and the regulars were 
 probably farther still on the road. This was the news that 
 had come down the river, with any number of the usual 
 wildly contradictory rumors about overwhelming forces of 
 Mexicans ready to give battle in our front, fierce cavalry 
 skirmishing on our flanks, ambuscades, and alarms; the 
 enemy were alternately said to be contesting every inch of 
 the way, and falling back like sheep; the populace were at 
 one and the same time welcoming us with open arms as 
 deliverers of the oppressed this was a favorite fiction in 
 
404 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 the American camp and lurking in the rear to rob and 
 murder the unwary as we marched. The transports were 
 still plying on the river, although as it was now approaching 
 the beginning of the dry season, Burke was informed that 
 they might not ply much longer, Camargo being the limit of 
 navigation at any time. He was amazed to find on a visit 
 made to Texas in later years that the Rio Grande, which he 
 remembered as a mighty and majestic body of water near its 
 mouth, shrank, several hundred miles farther up at the town 
 of Laredo, to a pitiful narrowness though still big enough 
 to have held some dozen or more of the captain s native 
 Scioto. That, however, was in the middle of winter when 
 not a drop of rain had fallen in these parts for months. 
 Nat got himself and his luggage on board one of the boats, 
 in company with a handful of other convalescents likewise 
 bent on rejoining their commands, and they would have 
 had a pleasant enough voyage of it if everybody had not been 
 in such a state of feverish hurry. They sat about the hot, 
 steamy decks, cursing their ill luck aloud, the very worst 
 and most profanely impatient of them all being, as I remem 
 ber, a ghastly pale, weak young lieutenant who had been in 
 hospital with some kind of low fever, and was not nearly 
 recovered. Burke and the others guessed that this poor 
 boy was already bound upon a different and longer journey; 
 he failed visibly; and, indeed, had a relapse and died within 
 a few days after landing; and the officers, his fellow-travel 
 lers, took up a collection amongst themselves to bury him. 
 One of the party remarked after the funeral with a grisly 
 humor that he was going to follow poor - s example, 
 get the good of his money while he could, and die with empty 
 pockets "for," said he, "why bother about leaving 
 enough to bury you decently? You ll be buried, never fear! 
 Nobody s going to leave you lying around, I guess." The 
 fact is, none of them had much money at this time. 
 
 At Camargo the squad of convalescents was augmented by 
 a very large number who had been in hospital there. Whether 
 the place itself was unhealthy, or the army overtaxed by 
 the march thither for not a tenth could be taken by the 
 transports the sick-list was so heavy here that the men 
 got to calling this camp "the Graveyard"; and perhaps 
 added to its dire reputation by joining the ranks when they 
 
THE WARRIOR LANGUISHES IN HIS TENT 405 
 
 should have been in their beds. The rear guard had marched 
 thirty-six hours before Burke s arrival oh, cursed spite 
 of Fate! He had known that we could not reach them in 
 time; but thirty-six hours is a provokingly narrow margin. 
 The impressive figure of Fame seemed to be receding before 
 us, like a will-o -the-wisp. For nothing was more certain, 
 we said to one another with gloomy head-shakes, than that 
 an action would take place before we could catch up with the 
 army; Santa Anna would never allow Taylor to get within 
 striking distance of Monterey without opposition; there 
 would be a great fight and a great victory for the Ameri 
 cans, of course and we wouldn t be there ! 
 
 Santa Anna, as it happened, was nowhere in the neighbor 
 hood, nor dreaming of coming there, although as he was 
 generalissimo of the Mexican forces he might well have been 
 directing their movements. But it was Ampudia who 
 commanded at Monterey with troops variously reported as 
 numbering all the way from two thousand to ten. And on 
 the very day when Captain Burke and his companions set 
 out from Camargo the body of the army having now 
 reached Serai vo the Mexican " General-in-Chief of the 
 Army of the North" as he styled himself, issued a fiery 
 address in Napoleonic phrases to the patriots under him: 
 Soldiers!" said he, with a tremendous flourish, " Soldiers! 
 The enemy, numbering only 2500 regular troops, the re 
 mainder being only a band of adventurers without valor 
 or discipline, are, according to reliable information, about 
 advancing upon Seralvo to commit the barbarity of attack 
 ing this most important place ; we count nearly 3000 regulars 
 and auxiliary cavalry, and these will defeat them again and 
 again before they can reach this city. Soldiers, we are con 
 structing fortifications . . . and thence we will sally forth 
 at a convenient time and drive back this enemy at the point 
 of the bayonet! Soldiers! I have assured the supreme 
 government of the triumph of our arms, confiding in your 
 loyalty and enthusiasm. . . . Soldiers! Victory or death 
 must be our only device!" 
 
 The plain old man who commanded on our side did not 
 think it necessary to discharge any such blast of eloquence 
 upon his troops, expecting us, it is likely, to do our duty with 
 out any words about it, as he did his; and to be sure, has 
 
406 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 not General Scott pointed out that "... he (Taylor) 
 was slow of thought, hesitant in speech, and unused to the 
 pen," all defects of which no man on earth could accuse 
 General Scott. We were obliged to advance upon Mon 
 terey without encouragement in this line from old Rough-and- 
 Ready, and I hardly think we could have bettered the re 
 sults even had Taylor been possessed of Scott s fluency. 
 By what the ex-invalids hurrying in the rear regarded as 
 nothing less than a direct interposition of Providence, the 
 army, having committed the barbarity of occupying Seralvo, 
 halted there four days to concentrate; it was halted again 
 a couple of days march farther at the village of Marin; 
 and it was here, within twenty-five miles of Monterey, that 
 we at last overtook them. Captain Burke reported for duty 
 the 18th of September, and so far not a shot had been fired. 
 
 Our army was encamped in a plain or plateau bordered by 
 the San Juan River, and surrounded by most lovely moun 
 tain scenery, the like of which few of us had ever beheld, 
 coming from the quiet landscapes of our native states. Ken- 
 nard, whom Burke fell in with on the way to division head 
 quarters, he did not know the captain had been ill, and 
 heard it with a very kind concern, said it reminded him 
 a little of Harper s Ferry. "The Mexicans call that biggest 
 mountain The Saddle" he explained; "it looks like one, 
 doesn t it ? And the other s The Mitre. You can see the 
 city from places around here, the air s so clear; I saw it 
 yesterday. It s funny to think we re so near at last. And 
 the queerest thing, Burke, the little, silent, empty towns 
 we ve come through all the way from Seralvo everybody 
 cleared out. Like a fairy-tale the Sleeping-Beauty 
 with a difference!" The whole way, he said, their brigade 
 of Worth s, which marched at the head, had been close be 
 hind a body or bodies of Mexican horse, Torrejon s cavalry, 
 the scouts thought; they would flit into view, hover, and van 
 ish, a mile, sometimes less, ahead, any hour of the day; 
 never able, apparently, to make up their minds to attack, 
 or to wait for our charge. These were the gentlemen who 
 were to beat us again and again, and the whole army indulged 
 in a great deal of merriment at their expense. I have rarely 
 seen men more confident and gay on the eve of action. 
 
 Mr. Burke, learning that pay-day had arrived during the 
 
THE WARRIOR LANGUISHES IN HIS TENT 407 
 
 month of his absence, took an opportunity to present his 
 claim at the paymaster s department; when he discovered, 
 to his surprise, that Captain Burke s money had already 
 been handed over and receipted for in due form on the rolls. 
 Burke was not personally known to the paymaster an 
 officer of volunteers like himself and however this mistake 
 had occurred (something which was never wholly cleared 
 up) there was at the moment no way of correcting it, in fact 
 no time for formalities of any sort, as we were about to 
 march. The captain returned to his command not at all dis 
 turbed in mind; we had more important matters to occupy 
 us. About ten o clock of the next morning September 
 19 as we were advancing rapidly in close order, Burke s 
 company being near the head of the column, all at once, with 
 a very loud, deep, and thunderous sound, a cannon at Mon 
 terey began to roar. 
 
 There was a little pause, and then two more reports, and 
 the order to halt was given. We were all very much excited. 
 At intervals during the morning, as we wound about between 
 the hills, the town had come in sight, with its roofs and the 
 cathedral spire precisely defined in that clean air; and now 
 our advance must have got within range. Somebody said 
 that the guns were twelve-pounders firing from the citadel, 
 and that one shot had gone within ten feet of General Taylor 
 as he rode with his staff in the First Division. We were 
 presently ordered into camp in a grove of trees near by; 
 the engineers went forward and the Rangers for a reconnois- 
 sance; all day long a clear and hot day we heard the 
 heavy guns and the musketry from the city. 
 
CHAPTER VI 
 IN WHICH THE FIRST OHIO BEHAVES WELL UNDER FIRE 
 
 THE Mexican War, as has already been noted, fared most 
 magnificently at the hands of contemporary historians who 
 spared no adjectives nor exclamation points in the glorify 
 ing of our American arms; and in spite of them, the same war, 
 as has also been noted, is all but forgot, or arouses only the 
 slenderest of attention to-day. For either or both of which 
 reasons, it seems scarcely worth while for the present writer 
 to add his brick to the heap, and tax the souls of his readers 
 with dreary details. The siege of Monterey shall be dis 
 missed as speedily as possible in this history; and let it be 
 said once for all of Captain Burke s performances, both here 
 and elsewhere, that they were creditable to himself, but no 
 more dashing nor glorious than those of a thousand other 
 brave and upright men among whom I make bold to class 
 him. 
 
 The city of Monterey, as you may read in a dozen accounts, 
 lay along a curve of the river San Juan in a pretty strong 
 natural position. It was defended on our right by a large, 
 lofty building, the Bishop s palace, turned into a fort with 
 guns and protecting works, which stood and still stands, 
 such was the original strength and thickness of its walls 
 on a height commanding the western approaches of the city; 
 the Citadel, about midway of the northern front of the town, 
 a formidable piece of fortification, built of black stone, cover 
 ing two or three acres with its bastions and outworks, 
 and proportionately furnished with guns and men. As far 
 as I know, setting aside the planting of two howitzers 
 the only siege guns we had in a ravine facing it, there was 
 no attack, nor even any demonstration made against this 
 place; and I was afterwards told by Major-general Quit- 
 man, that, happening to be with Taylor at the time of his 
 giving the order for Worth s advance, the general turned to 
 
 408 
 
THE FIRST OHIO UNDER FIRE 409 
 
 his council, and said, with a smile: "I think, gentlemen, 
 we ll let the Black Fort alone for a while. We don t want to 
 bite off more than we can chew." At the eastern end of the 
 town there were three strong redoubts, and a fortified bridge 
 across a little stream which entered the San Juan thereabouts; 
 besides all this the city proper, which was built, as if in the 
 intention to resist a siege, of stout low one-story stone houses, 
 was barricaded from wall to wall and street to street up to 
 the very doors of the cathedral in the main plaza, and a great 
 many unofficial defenders took a hand in the fight from be 
 hind these impromptu fortifications. 
 
 The issue of this conflict is well known. With an equal 
 force, with the moral and physical advantage of an en 
 trenched position, with a chain of defences so strong that one 
 of them was never attempted, and another (the Diablo 
 redoubt) held out victoriously until he himself withdrew 
 its garrison, with a populace which lent him all possible 
 encouragement and support, with supplies to have lasted 
 for weeks with all this General Pedro de Ampudia, at the 
 end of three days fighting, gave up Monterey. I do not 
 like to picture the feelings of the gallant men who served 
 under him; there seems to be something in the Spanish char 
 acter, a something transmitted to its utmost strain of blood, 
 that renders it incapable or unfit to command, while most 
 prompt, resolute, and courageous to obey. For let nobody 
 imagine that we effected a lodgment in the city and got the 
 upper hand easily or without resistance; we may have been 
 better soldiers than the Mexican rank-and-file, but we were 
 no braver men. 
 
 The Ohio volunteers figured only very insignificantly on 
 the first day of the siege, in a spectacular showing towards 
 sundown of a few companies apiece from Twiggs s and 
 Butler s 1 corps, along a high plain or shoulder of the moun 
 tains, where they could be seen by the city sentinels, and 
 draw attention from Worth s movement against the Bishop s 
 palace. Our chance came the next morning about ten 
 o clock when the general ordered out reinforcements to 
 support Colonel Garland s attack on the redoubts at the left. 
 Mitchell s regiment, with Major-general Butler in the front, 
 gallantly leading his division into action, pushed up between 
 the redoubts and the bridge-head under a severe fire which 
 
410 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 the men stood up to in good style; at the same time the other 
 brigade of volunteers under Quitman charged and took 
 the work farthest from us (the Teneria), so that, although 
 we were presently ordered to retire without having indi 
 vidually gained a foot, something had been accomplished 
 by our presence. And a cavalry charge by the Mexicans 
 following up this withdrawal (the sight of which seemed 
 to have sent the enemy quite frantic with delight! The 
 cathedral bells were ringing, and the lancers hurrahing 
 madly as they came after us), we took cover behind a con 
 venient hedge of our old acquaintance "that d d chap 
 arral," whence Captain Burke and his associates delivered 
 so brisk a fire that the cavalry appeared measurably satisfied 
 to charge in the opposite direction. Burke came out of this 
 engagement ranking officer, his three seniors having been 
 seriously wounded; and the command thus devolving upon 
 him, he brought off what remained of the regiment, which 
 had suffered heavily, in a tolerably well-ordered and soldierly 
 manner, and, as to himself, without a scratch. 
 
 The 22d the division spent resting in camp at Walnut 
 Springs about three miles from the city, and under water 
 instead of fire, for it rained hard and continuously; and 
 Burke, who, as I have said, was unhurt and in excellent trim, 
 chafed a good deal at this inaction. Towards evening an 
 express came in with the news that Worth had stormed the 
 last of the defences on the western heights, and their guns 
 were now trained on the city itself. Captain Burke, hearing 
 at the same time that General Quitman, now our division 
 commander, Butler having been wounded the previous day, 
 was to be sent to relieve the north front lines, went to him 
 personally with a request to accompany his command; the 
 general, with that kindness and sympathy which almost from 
 their first meeting he always manifested towards the young 
 man, responded by allowing him to go on his own staff as a 
 volunteer aide. But the struggle was already all but over; 
 during the night Ampudia withdrew his troops from the 
 outworks, concentrating in the city and citadel, and at day 
 break we occupied without resistance the forts of the Diablo 
 and La Libertad, where there had been such carnage on our 
 first visit, a little more than twenty-four hours before. 
 Thence the Americans commenced a forward movement into 
 
THE FIRST OHIO UNDER FIRE 411 
 
 the city, which presently became a hand-to-hand and house- 
 to-house fight. We had to batter down and tunnel through 
 one wall after another, and found every shop and shanty a 
 fort. They made a most stubborn opposition. The firing 
 was very severe although nothing like what it had been on the 
 21st, except at one street running directly from the cathedral, 
 where there was a hot fusillade through its whole length. 
 Burke reached this place in company with a Captain Henry 
 of the 3d Infantry whom he had fallen in with, I don t re 
 member where at the time neither one knew the other s 
 name; and it was here while they were debating the next 
 move that Burke saw the American commander for the first 
 time near at hand. "Look! There s the general that s 
 Taylor now!" his companion exclaimed. 1 
 
 He was in the town with his staff, on foot, walking about, 
 perfectly indifferent to the danger, in uniform, of course, 
 but, as I remember, with a large gray slouched or shade hat 
 on his head, and a bandanna knotted around his neck in 
 " Ranger" fashion. He crossed the street where there was 
 such a furious fire at a walk, and by every chance should have 
 been shot down. We ran over with some of the men, and 
 Henry began an agitated remonstrance, something about 
 the general s life being too valuable to be exposed so reck 
 lessly, and so on, to which General Taylor replied: "Take 
 that axe and break down that door!" 
 
 I have since seen many flaming lithographs and engravings 
 of General Taylor s triumphal entry into Monterey, and 
 never without a laugh. He is always on a caracoling white 
 horse, he brandishes a sword, he is bedizened with plumes 
 and gold braid; the Mexicans reel before him, heaps of 
 cannon and corpses encumber his path, the wounded feebly 
 cheer him on. These are noble conceptions and about 
 as near the truth as all such portrayals of war, about which 
 there is, to my mind at least, little fit to be pictured, or 
 altogether pleasing to remember. When Burke obediently 
 
 1 Captain Henry afterwards wrote a memoir of the Mexican War 
 in which this incident is related very much as Burke recollected it. 
 Taylor s bearing on this occasion seems to have made a profound 
 impression on both young men. Henry s book was published by 
 Harpers about 1860, and is probably still to be had at the libraries. 
 
 M. S. W. 
 
412 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 picked up that axe and broke down that door with a smart 
 blow or two, there was nobody behind it but a poor wretch 
 of an apothecary cowering on the floor of his shop amongst 
 his bottles and pill-boxes; and his wife and children came 
 and flung themselves at our knees with wildly imploring 
 gestures. "Bueno. Amigo. Bueno," says our kind old 
 leader, patting the head of the youngster nearest him re 
 assuringly. I think the scene and act became him better 
 and were more worthy of picturing than a thousand tri 
 umphs. 
 
 That night Ampudia wrote a message of capitulation in 
 which he said he had made all the defence of which the city 
 was capable, and done all required by military honor; it 
 was a manly and straightforward acknowledgment of defeat, 
 creating an impression which, I am sorry to say, his later 
 manoeuvres and prevarications thoroughly effaced. Officers 
 were appointed from both sides to settle upon the terms 
 of surrender. The cannon fell silent; the swords were all 
 sheathed, and everybody sat down with a pen instead, to tell 
 some anxious soul two thousand miles away who did not 
 even know when or where a battle might be going on, that 
 it was all over, and we were alive and unhurt, and poor 
 So-and-So was gone shot through the lungs in the assault 
 on the palace and Such-a-One would get the colonelcy, of 
 course. The surgeons were very busy; Captain Burke set 
 to work at his sad list of dead, wounded, and missing; and 
 his own name was mentioned handsomely in despatches 
 home, to his great gratification. 
 
 In this matter of the capitulation of Monterey our general 
 afterwards came in for some of the most unjust and ungrate 
 ful criticism, and the harshest censure that ever any govern 
 ment bestowed on a faithful servant. He was condemned 
 for not pursuing the enemy with more speed and vigor when 
 the very fault-finders whose business it was to provide him 
 with supplies and transportation had failed to do so; for 
 not pressing the siege closer when he had no siege artillery 
 nor entrenching tools; for not taking the entire Mexican 
 army, officers and men, prisoners of war, when it was as much 
 as he or any man could do in that barren and hostile country 
 to subsist his own men and maintain his position, let alone 
 guard and care for a troop of prisoners numbering more than 
 
THE FIRST OHIO UNDER FIRE 413 
 
 his whole force; for consenting to a cessation of hostilities, 
 or treating with the enemy at all; for suffering the garrison 
 to depart with the honors of war, and the Mexican gunners 
 to salute their captured flag. His political opponents speed 
 ily seized upon and made capital out of the administrative 
 discontent; and when a resolution of thanks to General Taylor 
 and the army was offered in Congress, it carried the amend 
 ment: "that nothing herein contained shall be construed into 
 an approbation of the terms of capitulation at Monterey." 
 A brave man who feels that he has done his duty may, per 
 haps, dispense with the approbation of his superiors; and as 
 to those who have been here called his political opponents, 
 General Taylor was at once too strong and single of heart to 
 heed their attacks; when the question of his candidacy for 
 the Presidency had been broached to him during the summer, 
 he wrote simply, "I have not the leisure to attend to it now. 
 The war demands every moment of my present time." It 
 was not the answer his correspondents would have got 
 from that able wielder of the pen, General Scott; and indeed, 
 that hero exhibited afterwards in his autobiography and 
 may have at the time, for all we knew the utter futility 
 of the Monterey expedition, its waste of time, men, and 
 money, and the meagreness of its results. "Cui bono?" 
 says he elegantly and appropriately, displaying throughout 
 his masterly work a splendid command of the Latin primer 
 and those of several other languages. And this opinion 
 being shared by the President and Secretary of War, and 
 Taylor s success having fully demonstrated his incompe- 
 tency, they presently detached from him a considerable part 
 of his army, Patterson s command, and ordered it elsewhere 
 without the formality of consulting our general, or even of 
 notifying him; and followed this up by despatching Scott 
 to the Rio Grande with authority to help himself to prac 
 tically all the regulars and almost all of the seasoned volun 
 teer troops remaining. 
 
 All these events, however, went on more or less over the 
 heads, as it were, of the army; certainly outside the sphere 
 of such small fry as Captain Burke. The rumors of dis 
 satisfaction at Washington, when they finally reached us, 
 concrete in newspapers and letters, caused a kind of angry 
 bewilderment and dismay. What did the President want ? 
 
414 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 What did the public want ? Hadn t we taken Monterey ? 
 From our point of view it was almost ludicrously unreason 
 able to find fault with the general for the particular way in 
 which he had got possession of a city, so long as he had ac 
 tually got possession of it. At the distance whence these 
 comments were made, how could their authors be acquainted 
 with all the circumstances ? We could not make out what 
 all the talk was about, and were inclined to put it down to 
 political chicanery, Whig or Democratic intriguing. The 
 officers said to one another that we should like to have some 
 of these bawling, blatherskiting, cheap-John stump-speakers 
 and petty demagogues down here in Mexico a while; we 
 should like to see how one of them would have invested 
 Monterey, reduced the Citadel, and taken everybody pris 
 oners ! We ourselves saw the Mexican army march away 
 without resentment; it is only the non-fighters who are for 
 ever shrieking for the enemy s blood. Burke himself was 
 occupied the first few days after the surrender with a matter 
 to which he should have attended before, and that now gave 
 him a serious concern; for when he made up that list, enter 
 ing our losses with a grave heart, Lieutenant George Ducey 
 was among the missing. 
 
 The truth is, rejoining his regiment the day and almost the 
 hour when it marched, Captain Burke, after some hurried 
 inquiries, finding that nobody knew exactly where George 
 was, but that everybody had "just seen him," or seen him 
 yesterday, or thought he was "somewhere" - the captain, I 
 say, gave him up for the moment, taking no further trouble 
 about George, whom, besides, he could not very well have 
 sought in a body of several hundred men, which itself was only 
 a part of another body of several thousand. And let us be 
 frank, my friends. Did Nat care greatly about seeing George ? 
 He must thank the young man for those kind-hearted atten 
 tions at Matamoros and I fear that Captain Nathan was 
 not of so free and noble a spirit as to find that a pleasant duty. 
 I have said it before, the man is an exalted character who can 
 take a favor well ; nor would it ever be easy to take one from 
 somebody we dislike. No, I think Burke was a little glad 
 not to meet George Ducey at once; and the stirring events 
 of succeeding hours put the lieutenant out of his mind al 
 together. Now it was borne in upon him with a growing 
 
THE FIRST OHIO UNDER FIRE 415 
 
 anxiety that a very grave thing had occurred no graver, to 
 be sure, than the loss by death or otherwise of scores of our 
 men but he knew George George was one of his own 
 company and there was the poor mother at home perhaps 
 on her knees at that moment praying for her boy. Burke 
 went about the search in good earnest lo, this time nobody 
 had seen Lieutenant Ducey, nobody knew anything about 
 him, even those who had assured the captain that they had 
 seen him " somewhere" shortly before the fight, now declared 
 he had been missing for a week ! Long before we got to Mon 
 terey, they said earnestly, he had disappeared, before Marin, 
 before Seralvo. 
 
 Burke took these statements, which were made in perfect 
 good faith, with allowances, for the confusion and hurry of 
 the late happenings; he himself felt as if the three days of the 
 siege had been as many months, as if he had been away from 
 home a year; and could not remember whether such and such 
 a thing had befallen on Sunday or Monday, or this week or 
 last. George, he thought, could not have been missing on 
 the march; it would have been remarked; an officer does not 
 stray like a private. He was not in hospital, for that was 
 easily and definitely settled at once by inquiry of the proper 
 officials; he was not with the regiment, but he might be else 
 where in the army; he might have volunteered as an aide like 
 Burke himself, or gone on a reconnoissance, and been shot or 
 taken, or he might 
 
 The objection to all these guesses was one which Burke 
 shrank from discussing with anybody, and rebuked himself 
 for entertaining. He could not imagine George steadfast in 
 any position of danger, voluntarily facing bodily harm. Nat 
 believed from the bottom of his heart that if ever a coward 
 existed on earth, it was George Ducey; George on a reconnois 
 sance or taking part in an attack was inconceivable. Yet it 
 is impossible to say what even a cowardly man may do at 
 times; and if his body was not lying in some of the hastily 
 dug grave trenches about the city, in some ravine, corn-field, 
 or copse of chaparral, then where was he? The captain felt 
 a sting of remorse when he remembered how sharp had been 
 his last conscious words with George, and the poor young fel 
 low s kindness later; after all, what need to have been so 
 harsh with him ? What could you expect of George Ducey ? 
 
416 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 Truly, his ridiculous attempt at blackmail was a little worse 
 than anything Burke had ever known him to do before; 
 hitherto, his lying and bragging and borrowing had never 
 really harmed anybody much but himself; it was only natural 
 and inevitable that such a character should deteriorate; but 
 even so, and although George had no earthly claim on him, 
 it seemed to Burke that old acquaintance, common memories, 
 ordinary humanity, the regard he felt for the rest of the 
 family imposed a sort of responsibility on him. It was as 
 little Francie had said long ago : somebody must look out for 
 George. Dimly Nathan began to perceive the immemorial 
 weapon of the weak: help me, or you push me down hill 
 take care of me, or on your own head be my undoing ! 
 
 Moved by all this, the captain prosecuted his search with 
 such vigor, as to give some color to that old report of his 
 kinship with the missing man ; and his task, ironically enough, 
 was not rendered any easier by his brother-officers who, out 
 of the consideration they thought due to Ducey s relative, 
 did not always answer his questions as plainly as they might, 
 or tried so hard to soften their statements that they ended by 
 being valueless. However, it was presently established be 
 yond doubt that Lieutenant Ducey had not been with his own 
 regiment or brigade nor volunteered on any other service, 
 nor been seen in any part of the field during the three days 
 fighting; at some time which nobody seemed able to fix, 
 Lieutenant Ducey had vanished, literally bag and baggage, 
 for none of his clothes and possessions, even to that Mexican 
 saddle about which Burke had rated him so soundly, could 
 be found; with so many thieving Mexicans about, this was 
 not so surprising. And it was in fact more than likely that 
 some of these latter gentry could have accounted for the un 
 fortunate boy s disappearance. Burke thought with horror 
 of the letter he must sit down and write to the family at home; 
 if George had fallen in battle, it would have been bad enough, 
 but in all probability robbed and murdered, and his body cast 
 aside for the buzzards or the lean, starveling dogs Merci 
 ful God, what an end ! 
 
 "Not your cousin Ducey not your cousin?" said an 
 officer, to whom Burke was confiding this gloomy view, in 
 astonishment, "Why, what relation was he, then? " 
 
 "None at all, I tell you/ said Nat, impatiently; "I don t 
 
THE FIRST OHIO UNDER FIRE 417 
 
 know how that story got around. We come from the same 
 place, that s all. 
 
 "Well, but he was your friend you were great friends, of 
 course?" asked the other, cautiously. 
 
 "No, not such very great friends, only I ve known him 
 all his life, you see. I know the family very well, and I ve 
 got to find out something about him I ve got to write home 
 and tell his mother poor woman! It s an awful business 
 if we could only find the the body, it would be a kind 
 of comfort to her, maybe, but this way - 
 
 "Oh, so that s the reason you were making such a fuss/ 
 said the other, with a perceptible change of manner; "you 
 you seemed to take it so to heart, I didn t like to say anything 
 before and of course it is an awfully sad thing for any 
 young fellow to go that way," he interpolated hastily; "and 
 I m sorry for his mother, but Ducey himself why, I d just 
 as lief say right out, he s no great loss. Don t like to talk 
 about a dead man but it s no more than I d have said 
 while he was alive. I knew Ducey pretty well. If he s got 
 killed, it wasn t fighting; he d be much more likely to drop 
 down dead from heart-disease running away! Say, I guess 
 you didn t hear that story about him and Crittenden? You 
 say you ve been in hospital, and then, of course, if people 
 think you re his cousin, they won t be so liable to tell you." 
 
 This is a sample of the plain talk Captain Burke succeeded 
 in getting when he had industriously removed the impression 
 about his connection with George; he was amazed to find 
 what a character the young man had become in the camp. 
 The story about him and Crittenden, which Nat had missed 
 so far, appeared to have circulated throughout the whole 
 army, and was actually the last thing anybody remembered 
 definitely about George. Mr. Thomas L. Crittenden of Ken 
 tucky was one of a number of young gentlemen who were to 
 be met with almost everywhere during the Mexican cam 
 paigns, moving with our armies, living at their own charges, 
 without official rank, and, though not in the service formally, 
 volunteering whenever a volunteer was needed, and perform 
 ing deeds of as much risk and difficulty as if they had held a 
 dozen commissions; Mr. Crittenden himself having assumed 
 the duties of General Taylor s aide during the engagements 
 just past, a post wherein he displayed the utmost gallantry, 
 
 2E 
 
418 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 so that our general (who was always most scrupulous and 
 painstaking to render honor where honor was due) put his 
 name in the despatches. Burke met him and liked him ex 
 ceedingly; he was a long, tall, lank young man, with a very 
 gentle voice and manners, a great talent for playing cards, 
 and none at all for playing the banjo, upon which, neverthe 
 less, he liked to thrum by the hour, always carrying one about 
 with him. The gist of the Ducey story, as near as Burke 
 could ever make out, was this : Lieutenant Ducey, being in a 
 company while Mr. Crittenden was executing a voluntary on 
 his instrument, and considering himself a judge of music, 
 began by going through a great many satirically significant 
 nods, winks, shrugs, and other pantomime to express his 
 amused disapproval. I do not know what else he did or said, 
 but Mr. Crittenden was reported to have borne it all with 
 commendable patience and good-humor until George finally 
 remarked with an open sneer : 
 
 "What a wonderfully good ear you have for music. Mr. 
 Crittenden!" 
 
 To which the other replied mildly: "I have, sir, and some 
 people have wonderfully good noses for pulling!" Saying 
 which, Mr. Crittenden of Kentucky laid aside his banjo, and 
 rising up, very rapidly and dexterously performed that feat 
 upon the person of Lieutenant Ducey, to the entertainment 
 of all the spectators. 
 
 It was not to be expected that this occurrence would be 
 kept quiet, or that either of the principals would be allowed 
 to forget it. The fashion of taking a gentleman s revenge 
 for an insult, bloody and foolish as it was, had not gone out 
 with Mr. Clay s defeat for the Presidency; but Burke was not 
 surprised to hear that Crittenden, although holding himself 
 in readiness for a challenge, had not received one. George 
 had been content to sit down with his pulled nose, apparently. 
 The affair had taken place, they said, shortly after the army 
 marched from Serai vo; and some averred that Lieutenant 
 Ducey had not been seen since. The official account of the 
 battle had long since gone home; and that passage beginning 
 ominously, "I regret to report was doubtless known 
 word for word to many a sad heart to whom the much-decried 
 terms of the capitulation seemed but a trivial matter in 
 comparison, when Captain Burke reluctantly sat down to 
 
THE FIRST OHIO UNDER FIRE 419 
 
 confirm to Mrs. Ducey the tidings of her son s disappearance 
 He told her the truth as gently as it could be told; that 
 George could not be found; that the chance of his being alive 
 was one in a hundred; it would have been no mercy to have 
 aroused any sort of hope in the poor mother s heart. Burke 
 could honestly speak with regret of the dead man; he dwelt 
 on George s kindness to him in his sickness, tried to recall 
 the times when George had talked about her and home, the 
 things he had said; perhaps the captain furbished up these 
 instances a little who would not? yet George was really 
 fond of his mother. And ended with some words of sym 
 pathy, awkwardly put, no doubt, yet sincere. Mrs. Ducey 
 would be wondering bitterly why her son had to be taken 
 and a young fellow like Burke without father or mother to 
 mourn him spared, he said to himself, as he went out and 
 posted the letter. 
 
 The writing of this was so dismal a business that Nat was 
 glad enough to encounter and join half a dozen light-hearted 
 lads one of them had got a bullet through the thigh in the 
 fight at the bridge-head, and was limping about on crutches 
 with the jauntiest air in the world! on leave from the camp 
 at Walnut Springs where General Taylor still had his head 
 quarters, and bent on driving dull care away in Monterey. 
 The city was tolerably well provided for that purpose; al 
 ready, in the short month elapsed since its fall, there had ap 
 peared the advance-guard of that other American invasion, 
 which forever followed in the trail of our army; those beauties 
 arrayed more richly than the lilies of the field and who, like 
 the lilies, neither toiled nor spun for a living; those frock- 
 coated, tall-hatted, impenetrable, reserved gentlemen with 
 diamonds on their fingers, pistols in their hip pockets, and an 
 amazing facility at manipulating playing-cards all, all 
 were here, the old familiar faces. The billiard-halls were 
 running night and day; the cock-pits were in operation; 
 there was another " Grand Spanish Saloon," I swear, in full 
 blast, not to mention half a hundred lesser ones. The 
 theatre was open, the bands played in the plaza, our friends 
 the Rangers were galloping in and out as of old, the volun 
 teers were getting drunk and disgracing the service and being 
 haled oft 7 to their regimental caboose by details of sober 
 ones vogue la galere ! Somebody had heard that there 
 
420 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 was a circus established in the town a real circus-troupe 
 from the United States! Let s all go to the circus here, 
 Burke, don t you want to see the circus? Hi there, you fel 
 low, six seven eight tickets to the circus! 
 
 This entertainment was quartered in the bull-ring at the 
 Plaza of San Antonio over towards the western part of town ; 
 the enemy s mortar-battery had been planted there the night 
 of the 23d, and was still in position although quite lost to 
 view amongst the gilt-and-crimson circus-wagons parked in 
 the open space around it. We got there just in time for the 
 "Grand Entree," and as the parade filed in, brass band, pie 
 bald horses, lovely ladies in velvet and tinsel and delicately 
 flopping ballet-skirts, the Bounding Jockey, the India-rubber 
 Man (with feats on the slack rope), the Hindoo Juggler, the 
 celebrated monkey Dandy Jack riding the equally celebrated 
 trick pony Comanche, Captain Burke recognized to his vast 
 surprise and amusement his acquaintance Mr. Edward 
 Badger, limber-legged, in the loose flowing Pierrot costume 
 and peaked hat affected by clowns of that era, striding hu 
 morously along, exchanging facetiae with the ringmaster, and 
 tremendously popular with the crowd. "I d r-r-rather-r-r-r 
 be a DOG - " ! Burke thought it was something of a come 
 down for that ornament to the " legitimate " ; but in this view 
 he was mistaken. Badger had probably never enjoyed so 
 much distinction in his life; and his song: 
 
 " If you like them, why, it s nothing to me, 
 But these are some things I don t like to see I 
 I don t like to see ! " 
 
 had already been taken up, sung, whistled, hummed by every 
 American in Monterey and the camp. Many were the 
 things and various that Mr. Badger didn t like to see; he had 
 a hit at everything and everybody connected with the army 
 from General Taylor down, and was kept shouting verse after 
 verse until he was hoarse as a crow, and the refrain bellowed 
 in chorus made the stanchions of the canvas roof to quiver 
 where they stood. Badger winked, capered, and made faces 
 with as good a will as if he had never dreamed of Hamlet; 
 and remarking many acquaintances in the martial audience 
 to whom he had been well known at Matamoros, cut a few 
 original jokes, not very funny, perhaps, but much more 
 
THE FIRST OHIO UNDER FIRE 421 
 
 keenly appreciated than all his clown s classics. As, for in 
 stance, when he mysteriously accosted the ringmaster with 
 the inquiry, Was Mr. Thomas L. Crittenden of Kentucky 
 present? "No, sir, Mr. Crittenden is not here, sir. Mr. 
 Crittenden has gone north with General Taylor s despatches, 
 sir," which was true; but when the applause which the mere 
 mention of Taylor s name always brought forth had died 
 down, the clown, with a wonderful pantomime of relief and 
 thankfulness, lugged out a monstrous false nose and clapped 
 it into place on his countenance " It s safe!" says Badger, 
 tapping this organ happily. " It s safe ! " A witticism which 
 was received so heartily that his concluding : 
 
 " If you like him, why, it s nothing to me, 
 But he s a young man that I don t want to see ! " 
 
 was completely drowned out by the din. The Mexicans in 
 the rear seats stared and listened, uncomprehending, jabber 
 ing among themselves; I never saw a similar gathering of 
 their nation so uproarious even when a favorite torero took 
 his stand to despatch the bull; we are apt to look down upon 
 the southern races for their supposed excitability and want 
 of self-control, but I doubt if the shoe is not once in a while 
 on the other foot. 
 
 After the performance Burke, much interested in this 
 development of Mr. Badger s career, went down, and find 
 ing a small boy, one of the troupe with a withered little 
 anxious face, and a Mexican zarape shrugged about his lean 
 stunted shoulders over the spangles and fleshings who was 
 diligently selling candies at the entrance, suborned him 
 for a few pennies to guide him to the clown s lodgings. 
 Edward roomed in a house near by with some of his 
 professional brethren; and all this crew of Tom Tumbles 
 were just sitting down to their dinner when the captain ar 
 rived, Badger with his chalk-blanched face and soiled white 
 blouse and pantaloons which he had not yet removed. He 
 took his face out of a jug of pulque to salute the guest 
 "What ho, Burke! Fighting Nat, 1 hey? Come in sit 
 down fetch a seat, somebody make room for the cap- 
 
 1 This senseless sobriquet was bestowed on Burke after the Mon 
 terey fight; and he has never since got rid of it. N. B. 
 
422 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 tain there between you!" Nothing could exceed his hos 
 pitality; I believe he was genuinely glad to see the other; 
 he had heard, he said, that Burke had gone through the 
 siege unhurt, and congratulated him warmly. The Jeffer- 
 sons? No, they were not with the company; they had gone 
 back to the States, as they intended. For himself as you 
 see! He introduced Burke to the others to the India- 
 rubber Man, to the Hindoo Juggler who spoke Eng 
 lish with a remarkably strong Tipperary accent for a 
 Hindoo to the ringmaster and Mrs. Ringmaster, the par 
 ents of the candy-selling boy the captain met them all ; 
 and he found them, contrary to his previous ideas, most 
 honest, kindly, and respectable people. They looked up a 
 little to Badger who, as he was rather fond of telling, had 
 once acted with Macready "This was the only thing that 
 presented itself of course I have other positions in view, 
 but it will take me some time to decide," he told his friend 
 leniently, in private; "and in the meanwhile, a man must 
 live, eh?" 
 
 Burke felt some reasonable doubts that this happy-go- 
 lucky artist had anything secure "in view" at all, but he did 
 not voice them. Badger and he sat together on one of the 
 circus-chests and smoked Mexican cigars and talked an hour 
 during the clown s scant leisure. It was at the end of the in 
 terview that the latter said suddenly, it was the first time 
 he had mentioned the subject, "Guess you don t hear 
 anything from Ducey nowadays, hey, Captain?" "Hear 
 anything?" said Burke, a little shocked; "why, you don t 
 know I thought maybe you didn t know but he he s 
 dead, poor fellow. That is, he s missing, it s the same thing 
 practically; he hasn t been heard of since we took the place; 
 it must have happened some time during the siege or right 
 before." 
 
 "Yes, I know, I heard all that," said Badger, eying him, 
 quite unimpressed; "but that s not what they re saying now 
 it s all over the camp, you know. They say he nipped 
 somebody s pay, and vamosed with it cleared out for parts 
 unknown scared blue. Why, you don t mean to say you 
 hadn t heard that?" 
 
CHAPTER VII 
 IN WHICH THE AMERICAN ARMY MOVES ON TAMPICO 
 
 IT was, I believe, about the last of October, and the "Army 
 of Occupation" (which we learned from stray and belated 
 newspapers was our high-sounding official title) had been 
 established at Monterey some six weeks, when those first 
 rumors of the Administration s dissatisfaction with Taylor 
 began to circulate; a curious sort of restlessness and activity 
 of speculation had already invaded us, everybody thinking he 
 recognized the omens of impending change. Twice expresses 
 arrived from Washington; General Patterson organized his 
 brigade and marched back to Camargo. From day to day 
 we understood that General Wool, who had had charge of an 
 expedition into Chihuahua, had been heard from, and would 
 join us shortly to concert some new move with Taylor. Still 
 he did not come; and "When did you hear from General 
 Wool? " got to be a by- word in the camp, the mere repetition 
 of the question one of those pointless jokes by which at times 
 the public mind appears to become obsessed, Badger s 
 brilliant pun that Wool wouldn t come because he d shrink 
 from the journey being also repeated about as if it were the 
 choicest possible piece of wit. Thus did we amuse ourselves 
 in the intervals of camp duties, and three or four hours daily 
 of battalion and company drill. Master grandson, or you 
 other young gentlemen under whose eyes this may chance 
 to fall, do you think we were a set of thick-skulled, spiritless 
 fellows with our routine work and our childish play ? Let 
 me tell you that war is as dull a business as ever I heard of, 
 for all it has furnished so many dazzling pages to history. I 
 have stood in the breaches of a falling city, and have drawn a 
 sword and shouted commands on the pitched field ; and I 
 have also marched all day in a chilling norther, with eyes 
 full of sand, a blistered heel, and a ration of hardtack and 
 raw bacon, which of these experiences to do you suppose I 
 
 423 
 
424 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 remember best? Why, the last, to be sure; believe me, it 
 took the greater fortitude. 
 
 Early in November, we got notice definitely that the armis 
 tice agreed on at Monterey between the Mexican general and 
 ours was formally put an end to by our government; and 
 orders were posted for the advance of the army on Saltillo, 
 General Worth marching first as before, Taylor following 
 him with a small body of May s dragoons for his sole escort, 
 according to the general s reckless habit. "Damn it, old 
 Zack s foolhardy, that s what he is plumb foolhardy. 
 Tain t safe!" Burke overheard a private of his company 
 exclaiming indignantly to another. On this Saltillo march, 
 our leader received Santa Anna s answer to his message in 
 forming him of the cessation of the armistice; it was so 
 ferociously worded as to remove any hopes General Taylor 
 may have entertained of a speedy settlement of the difficul 
 ties between the two republics. All ideas of peace ought to 
 be discarded, said the Mexican chief savagely, "... while a 
 single North American treads in arms the territory of this 
 republic, or while hostile squadrons remain in front of her 
 ports!" The hostile squadrons were, indeed, remaining in 
 front of her ports to some purpose; already at that moment 
 Commodore Connor had taken possession of Tampico with 
 out a shot fired ; we got the news a fortnight or so later, and 
 about the same time General Wool with his column at last 
 turned up at Monclova. 
 
 In the meanwhile and amongst all these martial expeditions 
 and encounters, Captain Burke s private affairs had given 
 him some little concern. There reached us one day, just be 
 fore we marched, a soiled and battered and badly damaged 
 parcel of mail, that same parcel whose loss we had mourned 
 a couple of months earlier at the time of our movement from 
 Matamoros; and how it had been lost and found, and what 
 were its adventures between whiles, nobody ever clearly knew. 
 It came, oddly enough, in company with another batch of 
 mail which was the latest from the States; and Burke, find 
 ing a number of letters in both instalments, conscientiously 
 read the oldest first in the order of their writing, with a smile 
 at his own whim. They were from his partner, young Lewis; 
 from a firm of lawyers in Cincinnati of whom Nat knew 
 nothing, not even the names, and whose communication filled 
 
THE AMERICAN ARMY MOVES ON TAMPICO 425 
 
 him with an astonishment not untinged with annoyance; 
 and from Jim Sharpless. There may even have been some 
 others 1 whose daintiness of tinted paper and slender Italian 
 script was badly marred by their wanderings and rough usage 
 - but have no fear ! However eagerly the captain pounced 
 on and devoured these, the public was safe from them; 
 Burke would not have confided their contents to any living 
 soul at the time, and why should he now, after forty years? 
 In the second set there was another from Messrs. Wylie & 
 Slemm, containing substantially the same information or 
 misinformation with additional hints and offers, which 
 Nathan put aside impatiently; and then he came upon and 
 opened with real pleasure a letter from John Vardaman. 
 
 " Bravo, Nat!" it began; they had just got the news 
 
 of Monterey; the despatches were in all the papers; might 
 one of the unfeeling and unscrupulous Democrats who had 
 helped to plunge the country into this barbarous and unjus 
 tifiable conflict, congratulate him? The doctor thought 
 that Captain Burke was doing pretty well for a Whig, a 
 supporter of peace, and lover of concord. "But it is nothing 
 more than what we all thought, and, perhaps, expected of 
 you," old Jack added seriously, after a good deal of fun- 
 poking in the same strain; "and I hope you will come home a 
 general, for I don t believe any man in the army will do more 
 to deserve promotion." Burke read the words in the quiet 
 of his little tent, reddening, touched, pleased; he wondered 
 if anybody ever had such friends, so kind, enthusiastic, and 
 loyal. The letter broke off here abruptly, and was resumed 
 under another date a few days later. "I had got this far," 
 wrote the doctor, "when some sudden call interfered; so 
 that whatever important piece of news I was about to com 
 municate, has gone clean out of my mind. You may have 
 heard that old Mr. Marsh has finally retired from business. 
 It is the strangest thing to see him on the street at all sorts 
 of irregular hours, and hanging wistfully around the doors of 
 offices and warehouses, which, I suppose, he was in the habit 
 of visiting when he was in the thick of affairs. They tell me 
 he won t even go in and sit and talk now that he has no par- 
 
 1 None of the letters between Captain Burke and Miss Sharpless 
 could be found. M. S. W. 
 
426 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 ticular errand, although his friends or rather the sons and 
 grandsons of his friends, as scarcely anybody of his own age 
 is left often invite him. No, no, I don t care about it, 
 Josh, I know what it is to have people idling around in your 
 office their room s a deal better than their company. 
 And let me tell you, young man, you mean well, I know, but 
 it ain t very good business to ask me. Your father wouldn t 
 have done it; I always had a very high opinion of your 
 father s business head. There ain t any such men as he was 
 around nowadays. I overheard him saying to Joshua 
 Barker the other day who must be about sixty, by the way ! 
 It s rather forlorn to see the old man makes me quite 
 resolute to wear out rather than rust out. The business 
 appears to be prospering as usual, without him. My sister 
 tells me that Mrs. Ducey has recently bloomed out with: 
 item: a splendid new barouche and span of Blue-Grass 
 blooded trotters; item: the whole house freshly papered 
 from top to bottom; item : a whole new set of full-length lace 
 curtains real lace, John! for the parlor; and item: 
 the Lord knows how many grand new toilettes for herself 
 and little Miss Blake, made out of bombazine, shagreen, 
 popeline when the ladies go into details I am all at sea, 
 but the most elegant and expensive materials, anyhow. By 
 all this and other signs, I judge that Ducey must be doing 
 exceedingly well, perhaps better than when Mr. Marsh was 
 in the office, although that was so short a time ago. Indeed, 
 he has intimated to several people that the old man was very 
 hide-bound and conservative and had no idea of keeping 
 abreast of the times; whereas Ducey means to introduce 
 progressive modern methods, and expand the business. I 
 know very little about business myself I think men in my 
 profession rarely ever do; but if I had money to invest I 
 believe I should trust Mr. Marsh s judgment, old as he is, 
 before William Ducey s. 
 
 "Jim and his father have at last made up their differences; 
 ever since that experience at the Harmony Hall meeting I 
 understand the Reverend Mr. Sharpless has shown signs of 
 softening. I don t know how they have compromised 
 two such very uncompromising natures; but Jim goes to 
 the house now. He is rather silent and uncommunicative 
 for him. Just now he is quite full of going to Mexico 
 
THE AMERICAN ARMY MOVES ON TAMPICO 427 
 
 joining the army in some unofficial capacity, as a corre 
 sponding agent for some eastern newspaper, he tells me and 
 will probably have told you already. Perhaps it was this 
 move of his that hastened the reconciliation. ..." 
 
 A letter from Sharpless in this same mail confirmed the 
 intelligence. "Dear Nat/ he wrote, "Not long after you 
 read this, I shall be on the bounding briny, sir, according 
 to my present plans, and if nothing falls through, headed 
 for Mexico. Having withstood the guns of Monterey 
 with distinguished gallantry I take it you can hold up 
 under the shock of this sudden information. I leave here 
 for Baltimore the middle of December, and sail from there on 
 the Napier the 24th ; if we have any sort of luck that ought 
 to land us in Tampico in about four weeks or in Vera 
 Cruz, whichever port we are headed for, I am in a pleasing 
 uncertainty ! Nobody up here knows what is going forward, 
 nevertheless every one is perfectly confident that the gov 
 ernment contemplates some active hostilities all along the 
 coast, instead of this supine blockade; so that perhaps both 
 Tampico and Vera Cruz will have fallen by the time I get 
 this written, and we can take our choice of either. By we 
 I mean a fellow named Clarkson of the Baltimore Chronicle, 
 and myself, and it is likely some other newspaper-men, edi 
 tors or underlings; they are all stampeding (you will 
 observe I am practising up on the Texas vocabulary!) for 
 the seat of war; older journalists tell me there never was 
 anything like it seen before in their young days the mili 
 tary authorities wouldn t have put up with a horde of non- 
 combatants trapesing around with the army or after it, and 
 writing home and publishing all sorts of information for the 
 enemy to read and profit by, etc., etc. What would Welling 
 ton have said, what would Bonaparte have said, what would 
 General Jackson have said to it, sir? I dare say the truth is 
 the old boys never thought of this method of supplying news. 
 Clarkson is to be paid a whacking price for articles from 
 the front. I get my expenses and a more modest wage; 
 but the experience will be invaluable. Mexico is so big a 
 place, and military movements so erratic, that I can t be sure 
 of meeting you anywhere still I am hoping. There is a 
 great deal of grumbling about Taylor s liberality to the van 
 quished, and the rumor is that he is to be recalled or deposed, 
 
428 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 and Scott sent down. I am too far away and know too little 
 about it to venture an opinion on the terms of surrender; 
 but, arguing from what we know of old Rough-and-Ready s 
 character and previous actions, they would be equitable and 
 humane. 
 
 "It is strange to think, Nat, that you have actually been 
 under fire, and trained that deadly-sure eye on your brother- 
 man, and stranger still to picture poor George Ducey on the 
 stricken field. I suppose missing is equivalent to gone 
 for good/ isn t it? Of course the day of pillage and burning 
 has gone by, and the harpies don t rob and murder the 
 wounded any more; but what might not happen in Mexico? 
 In honesty, no one could regret him, but such an end seems 
 somehow disproportionately tragic. I went up to the house 
 the day after the official returns were published I hadn t 
 the courage to face his mother sooner. It was rather ghastly 
 to see the place very richly furbished up and ornamented 
 they had been doing everything over on a lavish scale lately, 
 and were going to give a party the very night the news came. 
 Francie was gathering up and taking away the poor wilted 
 bunches of flowers that had been used in decoration; she 
 came with a grave face and told me that some of her aunt s 
 friends were there, Mrs. David Gwynne who recently lost 
 her only child, Len Andrews s wife, you know and others. 
 The house was quite besieged with women weeping or ready 
 to weep. Everybody takes it for granted that this is the 
 last of George. Francie was pale, but entirely self-contained; 
 she doesn t make any pretence of being sorry for George, 
 although, like the rest of us, she feels very deeply for Mrs. 
 Ducey. I said to her that after all missing wasn t as bad 
 as killed or wounded, and perhaps in the next news he 
 would have been found. 
 
 " Uncle William says we mustn t hope for that, she said 
 quietly; he says that if the war were between two civilized 
 countries, it might be different, but with savages like the 
 Mexicans, you might as well make up your mind to the worst. 
 Of course, Aunt Anne does hope a little, though she will 
 until she she hears, you know. That makes it worse, / 
 think. If he had been killed or wounded, she d have been 
 certain, anyhow. I I want to hear from Nathan from 
 Captain Burke, I mean -- she interrupted herself, coloring 
 
THE AMERICAN ARMY MOVES ON TAMPICO 429 
 
 all over her little pale face he ll be sure to find George; 
 if he can t, nobody can. I shall feel sure when we hear 
 from him. 
 
 " Something impelled me to say, we were alone in the big, 
 forlorn parlor, and nobody could be scandalized by it, If 
 it had to happen, I can t help being glad that it was George 
 and not Nat; I think George could be better spared. 
 
 " She looked straight in front of her, with an extraordinary 
 hardening of all her features, and said : l Mr. Sharpless, if it 
 wasn t for poor Aunt Anne, it wouldn t make a bit of differ 
 ence to anybody. I don t know why it should be any worse 
 to say it about a dead person than a live one it seems worse, 
 somehow but it s so. George never told the truth in his 
 life, and he s done some mean, contemptible things. And I 
 don t think anything could ever change him. When he was 
 a little, little boy he was that way. I remember crying my 
 eyes out when I was a little girl thinking that I had to love 
 George, because he was my cousin, and I didn t love him, and 
 I couldn t make myself. After I grew up, of course, I found 
 out that you don t have to love people just because they 
 happen to be your relations. But it used to make me 
 unhappy she said all this in a fiery little way very unlike 
 her, and I believe was going on with more of it, when she 
 seemed suddenly to recollect that she was not talking to 
 herself, or having it out with her aunt (as her manner 
 somehow suggested; I am very much mistaken if this was 
 not a sort of sequel to some recent family row about George), 
 but was airing a private matter to an outsider; she stopped 
 in a great confusion, red as a poppy, and biting her lips 
 and looking at me shamefacedly. I I beg your pardon, 
 Mr. Sharpless, I suppose you think I m very mean and silly 
 to talk this way it is mean, I know it but I I it s so 
 easy for me to talk to you you always seem to under 
 stand - 
 
 " Do I, Francie? I said, a good deal moved, and hopeful, 
 and trembling a little, I suppose, you you like to you 
 care to 
 
 lft You re just the same as a big brother, you know/ she 
 interrupted hastily. But I wasn t going to be put off that 
 way; it may not have been the time and place to say it, but, 
 Nat, I couldn t hold in any longer. 
 
430 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 1(1 Oh, Francie, I said; you know what I mean. I love 
 you I ve always loved you, I think. I ought not to 
 speak about it now, perhaps, but I must. I love you. I want 
 you to marry me. 
 
 " Does all this bore you to death, old fellow? I can t help 
 it, I feel as if I must talk to somebody. And if you are yawn 
 ing your head off, why, blow out the candle, cover up the 
 campfire, douse the glim, in short, in whatever fashion is 
 popular in Mexico, roll up in your blanket, and go to sleep. 
 The excitement is all over, I have done with my eloquence, 
 there is nothing more to come, no white satin favors, no rice 
 and old shoes, no orange-blossoms and clouds of tulle, no 
 necessity for Nat Burke to go down into his jeans for a silver 
 cake-basket none whatever! She wouldn t have me, and 
 cried bitterly, and was sorry for me from the bottom of her 
 heart well-a-day! I asked her if it was because of my 
 free-thinking, and she cried out vehemently, No, no, she 
 never thought about that, she didn t care what I believed or 
 didn t believe, and Aunt Anne herself said she was right, and 
 not to mind what people said about me. I said, Francie, is 
 there somebody else? 7 which was not a fair question; and I 
 felt properly punished when she sobbed harder than ever 
 and wouldn t answer. I suppose there is; do you remember 
 that I once thought it was you, and was quite sure of it when 
 you began to tell me of your engagement? I had made 
 up my mind never to ask her, because of you. 
 
 " So I came away to my lodgings, and they looked bare and 
 empty and lonely like my life; Clarkson s letter had come and 
 was lying on the table, which was all littered up with pipes 
 and manuscript and dirty bundles of proofs. I used to cherish 
 a dream of how she would come into my study, and make a 
 delightful little fuss over the disorder and the smell of to 
 bacco, and fall to and get me all straightened up in a tre 
 mendous flutter of skirts and ribbons pooh ! You d be 
 surprised how hard it was for me to give up that foolish 
 fancy; I sat down and morosely accepted Clarkson s offer 
 and invitation on the spot. I think I never was so weary 
 of anything in my life as the view from this window, these 
 lifeless streets, the faces of my fellow-boarders than whom 
 God never made a duller lot, the sight of the wretched little 
 
THE AMERICAN ARMY MOVES ON TAMPICO 431 
 
 out-at-elbows youngster with ink-smudges on his face and 
 warts on his hands who comes from the Journal office for 
 my copy, and falls asleep sitting on the top step of the stairs 
 outside my door oh, I am sick of it all. 
 
 I care for nobody, no not 1 1 
 And nobody cares for me ! 
 
 That last is not strictly true. I thought it a duty to write 
 my father and mother and tell them what I meant to do 
 yellow fever or a stray bullet might come along and finish me 
 down there, you know, although, of course, I didn t dwell on 
 those dismal subjects to them. I merely wanted them to 
 know where I was and what I was about. Father imme 
 diately sent me word to come to the house! It was the first 
 time in ten years. I went and we shook hands, and neither 
 one of us said a word about our ancient quarrel; it is so good 
 to be friends we are afraid of shaking up those grisly old 
 bones. I suppose there couldn t be a stranger reconcilia 
 tion, when neither has receded an inch. We have only learned 
 a little charity and forbearance with our advancing years; 
 he doesn t want to cane me into Christianity any more, and 
 I have the courtesy and common sense to behave with an 
 outward show of respect anyhow. When I was a melancholy 
 hobbledehoy of sixteen, I thought I must be forever contra 
 dicting and disputing, and posing him with unkindly humor 
 ous questions. I go there almost every day; it makes my 
 mother quite pathetically happy; and I think Mary is 
 pleased, too. You know she is very cool always and self- 
 possessed, so of course I don t look for any display of emotion 
 from her. 
 
 " The last I heard from you a mail-bag had been lost; let 
 us trust that none of my valuable communications were in 
 it. In a little while, I dare say we shall be sending and receiv 
 ing messages from Mexico with the speed of light; they are 
 trying the Electric Telegraph, and they say it s perfectly 
 practicable even for long distances and over mountain ranges, 
 although that seems hardly possible. They talked the other 
 day from Washington to New York; the message was re 
 peated at Philadelphia, I believe but even so, the thing 
 is almost incredible. They have a system of spelling by dots 
 
432 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 and dashes on the machine; but no doubt after a while that 
 will be improved on, as it wouldn t be very available to the 
 general public, hampered by a different alphabet. 
 
 ###-! ! !-! !??_!_### 
 
 "The above is a furious, profane gibe at Fate, couched in 
 the Dot-and-Dash dialect! Perhaps its just as well the gen 
 eral public can t read it. 
 
 " Your friend, the 
 
 " CONFIRMED OLD BACHELOR, 
 
 "J. S." 
 
 Burke laid the letter down. Poor Jim ! thought the young 
 man, regretfully sympathetic; and how unequally are the 
 prizes of this life distributed! He himself, as unworthy as 
 he was, had the desire of his heart, the love of the brightest 
 and sweetest and most beautiful of women, a source of daily 
 wonder and pride and happiness to him while Jim, as 
 good a man in every way, must be disappointed. It was 
 strange that Francie did not appreciate what was being of 
 fered her but no one can ever tell what a girl will like or 
 dislike. He hoped, with a serious face, that she wasn t 
 going to fall in love with, and throw herself away on, some 
 worthless fellow; he frowningly ran over all the young men 
 of her circle or whom she would be likely to know, not one of 
 whom was half good enough for her, to his notion; and the 
 thought stayed with him all day, with an unusual sense of 
 worry and resentment. 
 
 It did not occupy his mind so much, however, as to inter 
 fere with his writing briefly to Messrs. Wylie & Slemm, to 
 decline their proposal. "In the course of my legal experi 
 ence," he wrote, "I have repeatedly (as was natural) en 
 countered the names and records you mention; so that a 
 number of the facts you have discovered were already famil 
 iar to me, and my inferences corresponded with yours. While 
 I have no doubt that some sort of claim might be estab 
 lished, I have never cared to take any steps in that direction; 
 and do not care to now. Although constrained to decline 
 your services, I beg to assure you of my highest apprecia 
 tion " wrote Nat, with a dreadful sardonic grin "and 
 

 THE AMERICAN ARMY MOVES ON TAMPICO 433 
 
 remain, etc., etc." "The shysters!" he ejaculated contemp 
 tuously, as he folded up this neat rejoinder. 
 
 It was some little while before the young gentleman re 
 ceived any more letters, or found time to write any. Our 
 army took the road for Victoria, where we arrived about 
 Christmas Day of 1846, as nearly as I remember, in an over 
 powering heat, dust, and sunshine, after between two and 
 three weeks of a trying march. General Quitman, who 
 commanded on this march, took possession of the place with a 
 good deal of military ceremony, and no resistance whatever, 
 although we lived in the midst of alarms, and were constantly 
 being turned out at all hours of the night and day to patrol 
 the town, and prepare for a sudden descent of the enemy, 
 who, under Santa Anna, were reported to be advancing in 
 great force from the direction of San Luis Potosi; indeed, 
 we had been somewhat harassed on the way by Minon s 
 cavalry, hanging on our flanks and rear. The troops re 
 mained at Victoria, resting, for about a fortnight, during 
 which time Twiggs s division with the general-in-chief came 
 in, and also Patterson with his volunteers from the Rio 
 Grande, the men very much exhausted, having suffered 
 greatly from the want of water on the road. All this coun 
 try to the north, however, seemed to be swept clean of 
 Mexican soldiery; except for a brush with the guerillas now 
 and then, nobody had encountered anything resembling 
 armed opposition. We held what we had got; and might 
 have been inclined to a little cockiness about our achieve 
 ments, had it not been for adverse comment from home, and 
 the disagreements between General Taylor and the Ad 
 ministration. These had been pretty thoroughly aired by 
 this time; everybody had had his say, public and private, 
 official and unofficial; General Taylor s letter to General 
 Gaines explaining the whole circumstances of the Monterey 
 campaign was published first in the New York Express, 
 whence it travelled all over the country; the government 
 retaliated by sending out that famous order calling atten 
 tion to Paragraph 650 of the Army Regulations: "Private 
 letters . . . relative to military operations are frequently 
 mischievous in design, and always disgraceful to the army. 
 They are therefore, strictly forbidden. . . ." And if you wrote 
 any such letter for publication, or placed it beyond your 
 
434 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 control, so that it found its way to the press, you were to be 
 dismissed from the service! 
 
 This order, you may be sure, found its way to the press 
 fast enough; the political kettle boiled over; strange to say, 
 there was more letter-writing than ever. Colonel Jefferson 
 Davis explained; Major-general Henderson explained; Brig 
 adier-general Worth explained. These gentlemen had all 
 been on the Peace Commission at Monterey, and felt it due 
 themselves to defend the articles of capitulation. And in 
 the meanwhile the army at Victoria heard that it was true 
 the War Department had sent Scott down; already he had 
 landed at the Brazos; was Taylor to be superseded, sure 
 enough, we wondered. And what was all this concentration 
 of forces at Tampico about? The place had fallen; we un 
 derstood we were to be sent there, and also Worth s corps now 
 at Saltillo; but for what movement, or under what general, 
 no one knew, and there were a hundred conjectures. If 
 personal popularity and the confidence of the entire army 
 could have decided it, there would have been no question of 
 the man to lead us. General Taylor could not stir a foot 
 abroad without being surrounded, followed, hurrahed for 
 until you would have thought the men would burst their 
 throats. He visited the camp of the Illinois Volunteers, 
 and the honest fellows fairly mobbed him in their eagerness 
 to see, speak to, shake hands with, old Rough-and-Ready. 
 His orderly rode a prancing cavalry horse, and cut so mag 
 nificently military a figure that he was mistaken at first by 
 many for the general himself, who fared forth on a big, mild- 
 mannered mule and wore his ancient black frock coat, and a 
 Texan hat. Nobody enjoyed the joke more than Taylor, 
 and when the troops finally discovered him, their enthusiasm 
 was even greater than before. Did ever any general shake 
 hands with a regiment of raw recruits before, and do it 
 without the slightest loss of dignity and authority? In his 
 plain ways, his courage and common sense, his enterprise 
 and resolution, perhaps we all obscurely recognized whatever 
 is best and most typical of the American character, and of 
 that vanishing race of pioneers to which we all belonged, 
 and felt a pride in him accordingly; and even if his military 
 abilities had been less it is no part of this writer s plan to 
 discuss them I believe we should all have liked, trusted 
 in, and followed him. 
 
THE AMERICAN ARMY MOVES ON TAMPICO 435 
 
 Except on that one occasion during the attack on Monterey 
 it was never Burke s good fortune to meet General Taylor. 
 Before we left Victoria the captain had been appointed by 
 General Quitman with whom he had become very good 
 friends on his staff and to fill the post of military secre 
 tary left vacant by Mr. John S. Holt, who was about to return 
 to the States ; and in this capacity Captain Burke served out 
 the war, being, I think, the only volunteer officer member of 
 any one of the leading general s official family, as it was the 
 custom to select their aides, etc., from the subalterns of the 
 line regiments. By this move the captain missed forever 
 the chance, not alone of knowing Taylor, but of taking part 
 in the glorious engagement of Buena Vista, and winning 
 immortal laurels thereby. He can freely boast that he 
 might have won them who is to deny him? Certainly 
 not those who will have to gallop off to their libraries and 
 search the Encyclopaedia to find out where and when Buena 
 Vista was fought, and what good came of it at last! At the 
 time of our departure from Victoria, he was rather congratu 
 lating himself on his sagacity or good luck, for it looked as if 
 there might be very little activity in this part of Mexico, as 
 we now knew and the enemy knew that our movement was 
 directed on Vera Cruz, and the interior; and to sit down in 
 quiet at some small outpost on the Rio Grande did not at all 
 suit with Mr. Burke s views of a martial career. On the 
 15th of January, when our advance had already been two days 
 on the Tampico road, it was published in Orders that the 
 War Department directed the return of General Taylor to 
 Monterey with a certain few of the troops, with which he 
 was expected to hold and defend that vast territory, posses 
 sion of which had been acquired mainly by his efforts ; and 
 that we were now under the command of Major-general 
 Winfield Scott, practically the whole of the army having 
 been thus annexed by the latter. 
 
 It is not my place to pass upon the justice or injustice of 
 this governmental decree; and I think posterity has already 
 pronounced its verdict on the relative merits of President 
 Polk and his cabinet, and Zachary Taylor. "It is with 
 deep sensibility," he wrote, "that the commanding general 
 finds himself separated from the troops he has so long com 
 manded. To those corps, regular and volunteer, who have 
 
436 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 shared with him the active services of the field, he feels the 
 attachment due such associations; while to those making 
 their first campaign, he must express his regret that he cannot 
 participate with them in its eventful scenes - and with 
 these and other equally brave and kind and manly words the 
 old soldier bade us farewell. 
 
CHAPTER VIII 
 
 TAMPICO 
 
 BRIGADIER-GENERAL John Anthony Quitman, under whom 
 Burke now came to serve, and for whom he had a great 
 liking and respect, was at this time between forty-five and 
 fifty years of age, of a fine erect and martial figure, and with 
 one of the handsomest and most amiable faces ever seen. 
 He was a native of New York State by birth, but having 
 gone to Mississippi while yet a very young man, married, 
 made a fortune, and attained considerable personal and 
 political eminence there, was by now more of a Mississippian 
 than the Mississippians themselves, as sometimes happens 
 with these transplanted loyalties. But, indeed, the general 
 was a man to whom any sort of moderate emotions, middling 
 standards, halfway measures, were impossible. His enthu 
 siastic devotion to the State and her institutions was only 
 equalled by his enthusiastic devotion to the country at large, 
 to the legal profession he had been Chancellor of the 
 State, and had an extensive practice to the profession of 
 arms which he was now following, to his wife, his family, 
 his friends ! Whatever General Quitman had to do, that he 
 did with all his might and main, displaying an incredible 
 boyish ardor, self-confidence, and eagerness. A braver man 
 or a simpler and more generous spirit never existed; yet he 
 flourished about his military duties like a hero of melodrama; 
 he got his men up in line and addressed them with tremen 
 dous patriotic and stirring harangues; he wrote glorious 
 long oratorical letters when two words of ordinary talk would 
 have served the purpose. I remember his once describing 
 with profound admiration and in as vivid language as if he 
 had been on the spot that celebrated incident of the battle 
 of Fontenoy, where the young noblemen of I do not know 
 what splendid body of French troops saluted their oppo 
 nents of the English line "Messieurs de la Garde, tirez le 
 premier!" and announcing fervently that he thought that 
 
 437 
 
438 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 one of the finest chivalric scenes of history! To the rather 
 utilitarian mind of his auditor it seemed a needless piece of 
 rococo; but Burke and his general agreed to differ with abso 
 lute friendliness; there is something, at first sight, almost 
 strange in the association of two such widely divergent char 
 acters, that inclines one to put some faith in that law of 
 the attraction of opposites about which we hear people talk. 
 Quitman, as was natural to him when his affections were 
 anyways engaged, greatly overestimated Captain Burke s 
 parts and achievements; something in the younger man s 
 sober and occasionally satiric view of men and the world 
 pleased him by its very contrast to his own; he used to de 
 clare that for hard work and hard knocks their two careers 
 were an exact parallel whereas, except that both had 
 been lawyers, nothing could have been more unlike! And 
 while extolling openly and with a floweriness of words that 
 made the captain to blush and squirm upon his seat, what 
 he called the " laconic brevity " of Burke s speech, he would 
 pronounce him to be possessed of unusual conversational 
 powers when he chose to exert them the truth being that 
 honest Nat, if no such brilliant talker, was an exceptionally 
 good listener, which has more to do with being an acceptable 
 companion than most people suppose. He came to be the 
 repository of all the general s past history, private affairs, 
 his expectations, convictions, aspirations, his mercurial 
 woes and joys. He would weep when he talked to Burke 
 about the children he had lost, little Edward, little John 
 they had both died in a dreadful tragic manner after only a 
 few hours illness during the cholera epidemic at Natchez in 
 33; he kept a lock of his father s hair, the old gentleman, 
 who was a minister of the Dutch Reformed Church, having 
 died at the fairly ripe age of seventy-five some fifteen years 
 before, in the odor of sanctity, and having been, I do not 
 doubt, a man of intelligence and strong character but 
 few sons, Burke thought, are sentimental enough to keep 
 a parent s memory green after this true-lovers fashion. It 
 touched the young fellow even while it obscurely amused 
 him; he liked his general all the better for that picturesque 
 attitudinizing, that freedom and fluency of talk, those eager 
 confidences which Burke himself would have been the last 
 man in the world to fall into; for somehow, not all of Quit- 
 
TAMPICO 439 
 
 man s plainly perceptible weaknesses and want of balance 
 could make him less of a striking and interesting personality, 
 a man to command respect. 
 
 On the Tampico march General Quitman s brigade 
 which now formed part of Patterson s division was made 
 up of the South Carolina, Georgia, and Alabama regiments; 
 so that Captain Burke had plenty of opportunities of becom 
 ing acquainted with the chivalrj^ " it was their own expres 
 sion of those Southern States, as represented by their 
 officers; and he found them most high-spirited and gallant 
 young men. Some of them marched in tolerable state for 
 militiamen, with horses, negro body-servants, and various 
 small comforts unknown to the Ohio captain which, 
 by the way, they shared with whomsoever lacked, with the 
 utmost kindness, tact, and unselfishness. The hardships 
 of campaigning were beginning to tell on our men; by the 
 last of January, when we reached the sea, they were ragged 
 and nearly barefoot; they had not been paid in six months; 
 rations were insufficient, there was a great deal of sickness, 
 small parties of Mexican lancers or light troops constantly 
 annoyed us. Desertions were dishearteningly numerous, 
 yes, even from the ranks of those sons of chivalry with whom 
 Captain Burke was now associated. If there had been any 
 thing materially better to be got by joining the enemy, one 
 could hardly have blamed the poor wretches; but the Mexi 
 cans were worse armed and fed than ourselves apparently; 
 their sole advantage was that they were in the country of 
 their birth. We heard that one desperado, by name Thomas 
 Riley, who had deserted from the 3d or 4th Infantry before 
 the war opened, I believe, had gathered to himself up 
 wards of a hundred of his fellow-deserters, and formed them 
 into what was called (slangily) the "Brigade of Saint Pat 
 rick," from which many got the notion that these turn 
 coats were all Irishmen an unjust and cruel error, for we 
 had all remarked that our Irish, or, at least, those who bore 
 Irish names, our O Briens, Murphys, and Flanagans, were 
 not only the stoutest of fighters, but inflexibly loyal. One 
 of them even trapped very cunningly a Mexican secret agent 
 who was trying to lure away some of the men and had 
 succeeded more than once, alasf with promises of money, 
 and an officer s rank in their army. 
 
440 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 Notwithstanding all this discontent, nothing could have 
 exceeded General Quitman s thought and care for his troops 
 on the march wherein he differed notably from most of 
 the other commanders whom Burke had the honor to know. 
 A volunteer officer s relations with his men are, in nature, 
 more intimate and personal than those between the regular 
 army private and his superior; but Burke s general outdid 
 every other in the field, volunteer or regular, in zeal for the 
 welfare of his command. It was said that he never laid down 
 upon his bed at night without having assured himself that 
 every man in the brigade was in his proper place, whether on 
 duty or at rest; and when, on our arrival within ten miles of 
 Tampico, we were assigned a camping-ground with that 
 strange indifference or contempt of caution which distin 
 guishes the American soldier of a narrow, low-lying strip 
 of semi-bog between a lagoon and a piece of jungle, steaming 
 with hot moisture and foul odors, and already multitudi- 
 nously tenanted by every plague-bred and poisonous insect or 
 reptile that grows when we were ordered to encamp here, 
 I say, the general himself mounted a horse, rode to head 
 quarters, and presented our case so forcibly that we were 
 moved in a couple of days to a much higher and more healthy 
 spot among the hills back of the city, and adjoining General 
 Twiggs s camp on the left. The latter had reached Tampico 
 somewhat in advance of us; they reported that General 
 Scott, though looked for daily, had not yet arrived; the 
 town was a wretched little hole, not in the least like New 
 Orleans as we had been led to expect never saw so many 
 homely women , and beggars, and dirt, and lice in your life; 
 it rained this way, cats-and-dogs, all the time you 7 II see; 
 the camp was full of Mexicans peddling pulque, or that other 
 stuff what d ye call it? muscal and the other night 
 the whole division got good and drunk and raised h 1 for 
 hours; it s my opinion Scott had better hurry up and get the 
 army out of this, or there ll be precious little army to get - 
 and, I say, Burke, there s a fellow in the town looking for you; 
 some newspaper fellow, the place is running over with em, 
 you know; tall, thin, black-haired man, I can t remember his 
 name, but he says you re to look for him at the " Commercial 
 Exchange." 
 
 And so on, and so on; everybody was out of money, out 
 
TAMPICO 441 
 
 of clothes, out of temper. But Captain Burke, pricking up 
 his ears at this last intelligence, borrowed a horse from the 
 adjutant and rode into the city, where he found the "Com 
 mercial" without trouble. Every town in Mexico seemed 
 to have a coffee-house, hotel, or other place of public enter 
 tainment "del Comercio"; it was like the San Juan rivers, 
 of which if there was one, I am sure there were fifty. This 
 "Comercio" fronted the main plaza; in spite of a steady 
 downpour of rain, the streets were crowded; one could 
 hardly push through the archway into the commercial patio ; 
 and across the court under the arcade running around all 
 four sides, the first person Burke saw was Sharpless, tanned 
 with the sea-voyage, long and thin in drab linen ducks, with 
 a cup of the thick sugary Mexican chocolate before him, two 
 other alert-looking gentlemen keeping him company at the 
 little round iron-legged table one of them occupied with a 
 note-book and pencil. Jim looked up, seeing Burke he 
 was very quick of eye almost before the other saw him 
 "What, Nat!" "Hello, Jim!" Lord bless me, it s forty 
 years, and I feel now the delight with which I shook his 
 hand! The others beheld this welcome sympathetically; 
 if it is a pleasure in a far country to meet a mere townsman, 
 think what it is to meet a friend. One of them, when Sharp- 
 less presently introduced us, was a Mr. Kendall of the New 
 Orleans Picayune, the other, Clarkson, whose name Burke had 
 already heard. 
 
 James, far from being the disappointed, despondent lover 
 who might have been expected, was in admirable health and 
 spirits, and gave Burke a very lively account of the voyage 
 from Baltimore in one of the army transports on which 
 Clarkson had secured berths by some wire-pulling; and 
 imitated the men being seasick crossing the Gulf with amaz 
 ing fidelity and brilliancy officers and privates quite dis 
 tinct so that one could tell them apart at once ! He had left 
 everybody at home well, he said except 
 
 "Not Mary?" 
 
 Oh, no, Mary was all right "but, Nathan," he said 
 with a grave face, "Mrs. Ducey looks awfully awfully. 
 I suppose there can t be any doubt about George, hey? 
 Honestly, I ve seldom regretted as much the loss of a valued 
 citizen as I have his not on his account, but for his poor 
 
442 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 mother. She s all swathed up in crape it looks rather 
 pretty and striking with her fair hair which may be some 
 solace to a woman/ said Jim, a little cynically. "But, it s 
 the strangest thing about Francie " he brought the name 
 out with a slight effort, reddening through his sunburn, and 
 carefully keeping his eyes in another direction "she 
 why, she seems to have made up her mind not to even pre 
 tend for her aunt s sake to grieve for George. She doesn t 
 go around in black not a bit of it ! She wears all those 
 ribbons and bright clothes they got before they heard the 
 news, never misses a party, and if anybody asks her about 
 it, says right out that it s a pity for his father and mother, 
 but she s not going to be a hypocrite and make people think 
 she cares except for them ! I think I suspect, that is 
 there s been some kind of family schism about George 
 something he s done or said, or, or written home, you 
 know, Nat," said Jim, looking at his friend with an odd ex 
 pression, "that s displeased Francie." Nat was silent a mo 
 ment, thinking in a flash of resentment of what George 
 might have written then with an unaccustomed and com 
 forting warmth at his heart, "Francie was always a loyal 
 little friend," he said; nor did it occur to him until after 
 wards how irrelevant was this remark. Jim began to talk 
 about something else. 
 
 "People say Ducey has made a great deal of money the 
 last few months. They re certainly spending a great deal. 
 It s funny, I never thought he was a particularly bright man, 
 but I suppose he s just one of those fellows with a turn for 
 business and nothing much else. I ve known other success 
 ful men that were uninteresting to meet socially the same 
 way. Old Mr. Marsh must have been a great clog on him 
 here these last years Ducey hints that himself." 
 
 "Mr. Marsh was the backbone of the business when I 
 was there of course, he s too old now," said Nathan, 
 wondering a little dubiously at this complete reversal of 
 popular opinion and his own past judgments. "What s Mr. 
 Ducey been doing to make such a lot all at once ? Does any 
 body know? Army contracts? " 
 
 Sharpless thought not, believed it was some very lucky 
 speculations, he didn t know exactly what; he was rather 
 vague. "Business doesn t mean much to me except pay- 
 
TAMPICO 443 
 
 ing your debts, and getting in what s owing you, Nat, you 
 know that," he said with a laugh. " Earn a little something, 
 and don t spend it all that s my whole creed. I ll never be 
 a rich man." Which was true, as the years have proved. He 
 never quite got over the habits of his early vagabondage, 
 saved and invested only at the insistence of his friends, and 
 was forever lending or giving away all he had. 
 
 "You got my letter with the interview with Liph?" he 
 asked presently; "naturally I haven t mentioned the matter 
 to anybody, but, Nat, the fact is, I m on edge with curiosity. 
 Are you the heir to the earldom? Has the iron chest sunk 
 in the ground forty feet due north from the blasted oak been 
 found? And does it contain the missing will, and the other 
 papers proving conclusively that you are your father s legal 
 wife s son, and not the child of the other lady, who ahem! 
 was no better than she ought to be?" 
 
 "Oh, drop it!" said Burke, grinning, yet subtly annoyed 
 as references to this subject generally did annoy him. "I 
 wrote to those lawyers, and invited em in polite language to 
 mind their own affairs and leave mine alone. They wanted 
 me to put in a claim for some property of course you must 
 have guessed that. They even went and got an affidavit 
 from poor old Mrs. Darce that to the best of her knowledge 
 and belief I was Nathan Granger s grandson. I knew all 
 about the whole thing long before they came nosing around, 
 willing to take it up on a contingent fee, you know. Some 
 day there s going to be a lot of trouble in all these new West 
 ern States about land titles; people are so careless about 
 having deeds recorded. I ll bet nine-tenths of the titles in 
 our town are clouded; there s not a man in the place, except 
 perhaps Governor Gwynne 
 
 "And old Marsh he s too sharp ever to buy any property 
 he couldn t get a clear title to," said Jim. 
 
 "You can t tell about anybody," Burke observed oracu 
 larly, and shook his head, "at any rate " 
 
 "At any rate you re not going to law over anything I 
 never heard of a lawyer that would," said Sharpless, his eyes 
 twinkling a little. He took an extreme relish in pretending 
 sympathy with the vulgar prejudices that attribute every 
 sort of cunning and trickery to Burke s calling; and the 
 latter retorted by loudly declaiming against the weakness, 
 
444 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 folly, and corruption of the press whenever occasion 
 arose ! 
 
 The newspaper men, who now occupied Tampico in full 
 force, waiting on the movements of the army like terriers 
 around a mouse-trap or, as Jim said, when this compari 
 son was made in his hearing, more like mice around a terrier 
 trap ! proved a great addition to army circles, an extraor 
 dinarily jolly and companionable set, mostly young men of 
 some education but more knowledge of the world. General 
 Quitman, upon Burke s presenting his friend, expressed him 
 self as delighted with the new acquaintance. Perhaps Jim s 
 political beliefs, and certainly his capacity for interesting him 
 self in other people and their points of view, recommended 
 him to our camp. "Mr. Sharpless being a Democrat puts 
 him in closer sympathy, if I may say it in his presence, with 
 us men of the South," said Burke s general, in confidence; 
 "and as he is a journalist, I have been improving the oppor 
 tunity, sir, to remove some of those erroneous impressions 
 which he has gathered from a er a somewhat prejudiced 
 free-state press. Of course you know, Captain, I refer to 
 the siege of Monterey. Almost all the reports were in favor 
 of General Worth, to the exclusion of some of those who 
 also bore the heat and burden of the day. I have been 
 treated with marked neglect by most of the writers, though 
 victory followed where I led. It was our vigorous attack, 
 Mr. Sharpless, as your gallant and noble young friend here 
 can testify, it was our attack on the left that brought against 
 us nearly the whole Mexican force, and drew them off from 
 the rear where General Worth was operating," cried Quit 
 man, entirely unconscious in the ardor of his thundering 
 periods that this statement was as nearly untrue, or at 
 least misleading, as any statement of a perfectly honest man 
 could be. " But enough of this ! My friends must see justice 
 done me; I cannot. I have been silent, except under cen 
 sure; I say nothing to neglect. I wrote to General Felix 
 Huston a lifelong friend, sir, and one of the noblest men 
 God ever made exposing the whole matter, and giving 
 an accurate account of the behavior of my brigade in the 
 actions of the twenty-first, twenty-second, and twenty-third 
 of September I can show you a copy of the letter as 
 
TAMPICO 445 
 
 a literary man I should like to have your judgment of it. 
 There was a paragraph in the Concordia Intelligencer 
 issue of November 14 calculated to injure me you may 
 have noticed it ?" 
 
 "I I have to confess I don t see the Intelligencer, Gen 
 eral," says Jim, who had never even heard of this publica 
 tion, and who was listening with the utmost gravity and 
 interest; "if it makes a practice of slandering our brave 
 and able leaders, I don t regret it." 
 
 "No, I would not say that the Intelligencer makes a 
 practice of slandering us, as you so graphically and forcibly 
 put it, Mr. Sharpless," said the general, gratified; "but in 
 this case they reported, they actually reported, sir, that I 
 approved of the armistice. I never approved of it I 
 would have cut off this hand, sir, before I would have ap 
 proved of it. In my view, gentlemen, Mexico is ours it is 
 ours to dictate terms to this crushed and quivering country. 
 Let it be ours forever now and forever ! Let the banner 
 of our great republic float above this lawless and disorgan 
 ized land, let the blessings of our institutions be extended 
 to it, let the greedy talons of England be warded off, let the 
 hardy American farmer follow up the invasion of war with 
 the invasion of peace, and when he surveys this luxuriant 
 soil teeming with every Good Heavens, Captain Burke, is 
 that a tarantula by the table-leg? Set your foot on it quick ! " 
 
 Perhaps Burke was not sorry to have an end of the oration ; 
 he was afraid that Sharpless would misunderstand or under 
 value the brave, emotional, vain, credulous, and heroic 
 gentleman whose worst and weakest side he was now seeing. 
 But Jim, whose judgments of men were seldom anything but 
 just and kind, was not unfavorably moved by all these fire 
 works; vidi tantum as he might have and John Varda- 
 man certainly would have said; he had seen the world, and 
 was not easily misled by appearances. He got Quitman 
 to talking of his youthful days, when he had tramped across 
 the mountains, a boy of nineteen or twenty, on foot, with a 
 knapsack at his back, to teach school in the wilderness of 
 Ohio; had studied law, struggled for a bare living, worked 
 early and late. It was a little Odyssey of hard work, sacri 
 fices, and high ambition. "I sold a brace of handsome 
 pistols, cherished possessions you know how boys are to 
 
446 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 buy a set of Cruise s Digest ; an invaluable work, as I dare 
 say you too have found out, Burke," he said. "Are there 
 any deer left in D - County, I wonder? I used to hunt 
 them in the woods all around the town that s nearly thirty 
 years ago, gentlemen He was silent a little, thinking of 
 those times. When Sharpless rose to go, the general accom 
 panied him to the door, invited him to come again in a very 
 cordial way, and said earnestly at the last: "I trust you will 
 not construe any remarks I may have made awhile ago as a 
 complaint again General Worth, sir. That was the farthest 
 thing in the world from my mind. No army on earth ever 
 boasted a more daring or brilliant officer none! I have a 
 great admiration for General Worth, and he honors me with 
 his friendship. I don t want you to think that I would dero 
 gate from the glory he most justly earned at Monterey and 
 elsewhere, sir." 
 
 " I don t think it, General. Your attitude is perfectly plain 
 and most just and natural. Honor where honor is due 
 that s all you ask," said Jim, neatly. They shook hands 
 with warmth, and Quitman afterwards remarked enthusias 
 tically to Burke what an unusually gifted, intelligent, and 
 high-minded young man his friend Mr. Sharpless was! 
 
 Somewhere about the third week in February our new 
 commander-in-chief, the head of the United States armies, 
 General Scott, at last arrived, a fact which was officially 
 announced by two or three crashing salutes from the heavy 
 guns at the city; hearing which, whoever could get leave 
 posted in from camp to have a look at him. In this Captain 
 Burke was disappointed; the general stayed only two days, 
 very busy at his quarters, seeing only his division command 
 ers and the heads of the various departments; but during 
 and after this visit, brief as it was, an astonishing increase 
 in activity and energy became noticeable throughout the 
 army. February 25 the orders were out, and we were all 
 to go by sea, ten thousand of us, to the island of Lobos off 
 the coast some sixty miles south, to make ready for the de 
 scent on Vera Cruz. Everybody packed up once more; the 
 familiar cloud of gamblers, brokers, circus riders, and camp- 
 followers of all varieties began to melt magically away, dis 
 solve, vanish, after their mysterious habit, to reembody 
 
TAMPICO 447 
 
 again at our next place of sojourn. The editors and report 
 ers bestowed themselves in any number of weird quarters 
 for transportation; Sharpless travelling at the invitation of 
 an officer of marines with whom he had struck up an acquaint 
 ance, on board the U. S. S. Raritan, which had already har 
 bored an illustrious guest on the way from the Brazos in the 
 person of General Scott. "What is he like? Did any of 
 them say?" Burke asked. But Jim had been unable to get 
 an opinion. "Everybody reports that he gets things done," 
 was all he could answer. 
 
CHAPTER IX 
 
 "AND THERE WAS WAR AGAIN " 
 
 OUR army, conveyed by a fleet of eighty transports arrived 
 before Vera Cruz city and harbor the morning of March 9, 
 1847, and disembarked during that and the following day at 
 a point on the shore about three miles south, beyond the 
 range of the enemy s guns, which could only deliver an occa 
 sional ineffective fire in our direction the Mexicans mak 
 ing no other attempt to dispute our presence. Nobody was 
 hurt, no surf-boats upset, no mishap of any kind occurred, 
 and the troops took up their positions in the exact order 
 assigned circumstances so remarkable according to con 
 temporary reports and in the general-in-chief s own opin 
 ion that you might suppose no such landing had ever been 
 effected since Noah came to anchor on the mount. Taylor s 
 old troops of the Rio Grande were not, however, conscious 
 of anything remarkable happening, being by this time of 
 a proved philosophy, and made their bivouac amongst the 
 shifting sands, congratulating themselves that accommoda 
 tions were no worse. There was a high north gale blowing 
 which kept up for a week, preventing the landing of the 
 siege guns and heavy artillery, nevertheless a close invest 
 ment was begun at once, Quitman s brigade, to that general s 
 unbounded delight, being assigned one of the advanced posi 
 tions. 
 
 Vera Cruz, an ordinary Spanish-looking city in other 
 respects, possessed the picturesque feature of an encircling 
 wall in mediaeval fashion, was defended on the land side by 
 the usual redoubts, etc.; and seaward by the strong castle 
 of San Juan de Ulloa, built upon a reef of coral rock, squarely 
 across from the town, at perhaps a thousand yards distance, 
 mounting upwards of a hundred guns and commanding every 
 part of the harbor, which, by the way, was full of variegated 
 and outlandish foreign shipping at the time of our arrival, 
 
 448 
 
"AND THERE WAS WAR AGAIN" 449 
 
 and continued so during the whole of the siege ! Our batter 
 ies were at length got into place, and the trenches opened on 
 the 22d, when General Scott formally summoned the city; 
 the Mexican commander, General Morales, declining, the 
 bombardment began; and after four days and nights of 
 almost uninterrupted firing from both sides, Vera Cruz was 
 unconditionally surrendered. The American loss was not 
 more than a hundred men, so poorly did the Mexicans serve 
 their guns, while the latter s list of killed and wounded was 
 reported at ten times as many, exclusive of the unfortunate 
 non-combatants shut up within the walls whom our shot and 
 shell could not spare. The garrisons of both city and for 
 tress about three thousand in all marched out with the 
 honors of war, saluted their flag, and laid down their arms 
 on the 29th; and the same day we took possession. 
 
 There were about this siege none of the sensational inci 
 dents nor any of that bloody and resolute hand-to-hand 
 fighting which had marked the taking of Monterey. Burke, 
 remembering his own experiences, and also the determined 
 resistance and awful scenes of Saragossa and Badajoz about 
 which he had read in Colonel Napier s history, looked for 
 something of the same nature here, where the inhabitants 
 were still of the Spanish blood, if somewhat diluted, and had 
 a similar environment in this old walled city, these stout 
 defences. Either they were greatly fallen off from the virtues 
 of their ancestors, he judged, or they offered an example of 
 the house which, divided against itself, shall not stand. In 
 the midst of the siege their General Morales resigned or was 
 deposed, General Landero succeeding him; so that Scott 
 summoned one man, and received the surrender from another, 
 the change not seeming to advantage them much. It is to 
 be doubted whether there was at this time one single man 
 or body of men in Mexico with whom our government could 
 have treated authoritatively and securely. Half a dozen 
 dictators or clusters of dictators had risen, reigned a brief 
 day, been overthrown and put to flight since the war began. 
 Ampudia, our opponent at Monterey, lay in prison at Perote, 
 awaiting trial for the surrender of that city; Santa Anna, 
 himself a popular idol, if all reports were to be believed, upon 
 the losing of a battle might be in fell disgrace to-morrow. 
 We are accustomed to the violent and groundless prejudices, 
 
 2G 
 
450 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 the irresolution and instability, the crazy humors of our own 
 mob; yet we can always count with confidence on the sober 
 common sense of the nation triumphing at last. The end 
 less and motiveless changes, the factional quarrels equally 
 bloody and futile of which the Mexican history of this era is 
 full so full that one student at least has never been able 
 to make head nor tail out of it, although so much passed be 
 neath his own eyes! would be impossible to us. It was 
 not strange that we should have looked with contempt on 
 this half-developed race struggling after law and order 
 with a childish idea of blind, brutish, enforced obedience, 
 but none whatever of voluntary and manly subjection; and 
 wondered that individuals so mild, docile, and patient as the 
 average native should become in the mass at once so savage 
 and so silly. 
 
 The part which Burke s general and his forces took in the 
 siege of Vera Cruz has been described in two lines by Scott 
 and other unappreciative historians as a brisk skirmish result 
 ing in the driving in of the enemy s outposts which is 
 exactly what it was, no more nor less; but if Quitman could 
 have forseen that posterity was to receive so light a report of 
 these actions, what would have been his indignation! We 
 took up a position among some sand-hills; and the Mexicans 
 coming out against us in considerable strength with both 
 horse and foot were obliged to retire after some sharp firing 
 in which they were backed up by the cannon from the city, 
 the engagement lasting, I think, about two hours. Cap 
 tain Burke, riding backwards and forwards from one end of 
 our line to the other in his quality of aide, got his share of the 
 hard knocks this time, a bullet in the upper arm, fortunately 
 missing the bone the only wound he received, let me say 
 it at once, in all his campaigning, and that not a severe one. 
 General Quitman himself had no chance at this particular 
 sort of glory, the enemy retreating before we could come 
 to grips with them, something which he certainly regretted. 
 To have battered a hole in the city wall, and stormed through 
 it, "my brave Carolinians," "my noble Georgians" as he 
 was fond of calling them at his back, would have suited 
 him much better. And receiving about this time authentic 
 news of Buena Vista, and the laudable conduct of "my gal 
 lant Mississippians " on that hotly contested field, he was a 
 
"AND THERE WAS WAR AGAIN" 451 
 
 good deal affected, and wished for the fortieth time that he 
 had been with them. "The volunteer arm, however, serves 
 under a disadvantage, Burke, under a very great disadvan 
 tage," he would say in his depressed moods; " there is so 
 much adverse feeling among the regulars and elsewhere 
 higher up, one can have hardly any hope of recognition or 
 promotion for us. I went to call on President Polk in Wash 
 ington after receiving my appointment to the brigadier- 
 generalship, and I soon saw " said the general, in a tone of 
 dark significance. " I soon saw ! Polk, sir, is a cold-hearted 
 aristocrat, hide-bound in conventionalities very different 
 from General Taylor. Even he did not accord me the full 
 measure of appreciation after Monterey. If a regular 
 officer of corresponding rank had had his horse shot under 
 him, would it have been overlooked? But my name does 
 not even appear once in the despatches. As to the major- 
 generalship, I think of it no more. After all, it suffices for 
 a man to feel that he has done his duty. The plaudits of the 
 multitude are naught to us," said the general, with a sigh. 
 He was, nevertheless, as susceptible to the plaudits of the 
 multitude as many another honest gentleman and brave man ; 
 and notwithstanding his disclaimers, the major-generalship 
 for which he longed and which, indeed, he thoroughly de 
 served was rarely out of his thoughts. Burke liked him 
 none the less for that stout ambition; the young fellow was 
 conscious of certain aspirations of his own, although I do 
 not think they ever caused him one-tenth the anxiety and the 
 heartburnings he observed in his superior. Both general 
 and aide were by no means ill-pleased when the commander- 
 in-chief, a few days after the fall of Vera Cruz, despatched 
 Quitman s brigade with a squadron or so of regulars and a 
 section of a field-battery against the town of Alvarado a little 
 farther down the coast, this movement to be executed jointly 
 with a part of the naval force under Commodore Perry. 
 Off we went in high feather but, alas for glory! In this 
 expedition we were fated to emulate the king of France and 
 his fifty thousand men. Within fifteen miles of Alvarado, 
 after a two days march, there came a note from Mr. Midship 
 man Temple of the Scourge, ship of the line, to inform us 
 that the spiritless Mexicans had already surrendered the 
 town without a shot fired to Commander Hunter of that 
 
452 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 vessel, upon his appearance before their harbor, and that 
 nothing was left for the land forces to do but to hold it until 
 further orders! " You re getting em dealt out from the 
 bottom of the pack!" said a journalist friend of Captain 
 Burke s, with a quite diabolical grin, observing the down 
 cast faces of the officers. Sharpless had attached himself 
 to the column in company with a Mr. Moses Beach of the 
 New York Sun; and both gentlemen performed very 
 creditably as amateur campaigners, marching and camping 
 with the best of us, and writing prodigious long accounts 
 home to their respective papers, which they managed to get 
 mailed somehow wherever we were. 
 
 The brigade marched back to Vera Cruz within the week, 
 reaching there after the main body of the army had set out 
 towards Jalapa; and our ill-luck still held. For although 
 we pursued them hot-foot, almost without rest and entirely 
 without any kind of transportation, the men carrying their 
 knapsacks, ammunition, and seven days rations on their own 
 shoulders, we only got up in time to hear the booming of the 
 last guns at Cerro Gordo. The enemy were in full retreat; 
 the castle had fallen; Santa Anna, Almonte, Canalizo, all 
 the heroic .Mexican chieftains had taken to their heels, 
 except General Vasquez, who was killed in the assault, and 
 half a dozen other generals who were prisoners; our General 
 Shields had been shot through the lungs and was thought to 
 be dying; Twiggs s division stormed the heights, Worth s 
 was in pursuit of the demoralized fugitives and where was 
 Quitman on this splendid day? It was a bitter pill which 
 not even the intelligence of his major-general s appointment, 
 so ardently coveted and received a few days later, could 
 help down! 
 
 As we advanced, the heavily fortified position of La Hoya 
 with all its artillery and works was abandoned without a 
 blow struck; and on the 22d of April Worth and his divi 
 sion took possession without resistance of the town and 
 fortress of Perote, the latter strong enough, one would have 
 thought, to have held out indefinitely against double our 
 numbers. About a fortnight later the American army 
 entered Puebla, and we stacked arms and laid down to 
 sleep in the public square of that city surnamed and 
 misnamed "of the Angels." 
 
"AND THERE WAS WAR AGAIN" 453 
 
 We stayed here, awaiting reinforcements, until the first 
 part of August, to the great restlessness and discontent of 
 those amateur tacticians at home, who had been so ready 
 with their criticism at the time of Taylor s delay on the Rio 
 Grande. Captain Burke, who now considered himself a 
 veteran, looked back upon those weeks at Matamoros the 
 summer before with pity and wonder at his own inexperience, 
 his naive ideas. Our friend Nat thought that he had gone 
 through a good deal, as much as falls to most men, since then; 
 he had faced an enemy s fire, and snapped a trigger himself; 
 he had tramped weary miles; he had seen wounds and disease 
 and death overtake many a better man than Nat Burke. Here 
 he stood alive and well and roaming about the streets and 
 churches of the City of the Angels, not being treated in alto 
 gether angelic fashion by the senoritas from whom presum 
 ably it got its name, in spite of the painstaking Spanish com 
 pliments which he and his friend Sharpless addressed to them. 
 We drilled early and late at Puebla; we visited Cholula, the 
 pyramid, and toiled up its steep road to the church at the 
 top that took the place of the awful sacrificial temple of the 
 Aztecs; and speculated and guessed in vain over its forgotten 
 builders; and dickered with the natives for the grim little 
 stone idols they dug up among the rubbish along its disor 
 dered slopes. It was a pleasant time; and I am sure Captain 
 Burke wrote home reams of poetical descriptions to some 
 body, though he never cut out much of a figure as a poet. 
 He used to climb, for this purpose, to the flat roof of the 
 house where we were quartered, of an evening, whence in the 
 semitropic dusk under vivid stars we could still see the white 
 summits of the two mountains that looked from the other 
 side, we were told, upon the "City" of Cortez and Monte- 
 zuma Captain Burke found the scene most inspiring. 
 One of the numerous families lodging around the patio below 
 kept a coop or two of chickens on the roof; and everybody 
 hung out the wash there, so that it was not so romantic a 
 locality as the reader may have imagined. Yet Burke 
 fancied it; he made himself quite at home among the poultry 
 and the flapping wet sheets; and a pair of Mexican mothers 
 who came and sat there with their babies for the evening 
 coolness got used to his presence, and even welcomed him 
 with shy smiles. 
 
454 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 These were not, however, the only letters Burke wrote. 
 No, indeed; he was very busy with his pen a good part of 
 the time on his superior s correspondence. It soon became 
 apparent to some of us that major-generalships, like other 
 prizes, are not infrequently a sort of Dead Sea fruit, apples of 
 Sodom fair to look upon but a great disappointment to the 
 palate. Burke s general for a while appeared to be rapidly 
 nearing or already in a position where he would, indeed, 
 have been that young man s general, but the general of noth 
 ing and nobody else! The term of service of four or five of 
 the volunteer regiments being about to expire, they were to 
 be sent home; Major-general Patterson was already without 
 a command and had started for New Orleans, and General 
 Quitman presently found his troops reduced to two regiments, 
 and himself expected to receive orders from Worth who was 
 as yet only brevetted to the same title, and whom Quitman 
 supposed he ranked. A man of much less spirit and intelli 
 gence than Quitman would have resented these infringements 
 of his rights and dignities; it can be imagined in what a 
 strain of eloquence the general assailed his superiors. He 
 dictated letter after letter to his military secretary, striding 
 about the room at his headquarters, fuming, scowling, and 
 vociferating. . . . "My juniors in rank, entitled only to 
 brigades, are in command of divisions, consisting of five and 
 six regiments each. This army would present the singular 
 spectacle of brigadier-generals commanding divisions, colonels 
 and lieutenant-colonels commanding brigades, and a major- 
 general commanding less than a brigade! 
 
 " (Paragraph there.) I have to call the attention of the 
 general-in-chief - (No, scratch that out, Burke, I won t 
 say that) I will not at this time present my views of the 
 humiliating position. ..." and so on while the aide labored 
 after him through a dozen argumentative sentences, wonder 
 ing if the general-in-chief to whom Quitman always ad 
 dressed these memorials ceremoniously in the third person 
 would ever find the time or patience to read them. 
 
 " Why don t you go and see him yourself, General, and have 
 it out? That would save time, wouldn t it?" he once ven 
 tured; but Quitman frowned away the suggestion. 
 
 "The question is too serious to be presented otherwise than 
 in strict accordance with military forms and usage, Captain 
 
"AND THERE WAS WAR AGAIN" 455 
 
 Burke," he said severely. And so, after he had written out a 
 fair copy and another for reference Nat, with a solemn 
 exterior, himself carried and presented it to General Scott, 
 seeing his own general s anxiety that so valuable a document 
 should run no risk of loss. As army headquarters were 
 around the corner only a step away, there would not have 
 been much danger of this happening; and our commander, 
 to tell the truth, did not welcome his subordinate s letter 
 with signal respect or attention. "I have no leisure for a 
 laborious correspondence with the officers I have the honor to 
 command, and who are near me," he wrote in answer; and, 
 in fact, said as much rather impatiently in Burke s hearing. 
 He had been engaged upon a literary effort of his own, a 
 proclamation to the Mexican people, reviewing the success 
 of our arms, and urging a speedy settlement " Mexicans! 
 The past cannot be remedied, but the future may be provided 
 for. Repeatedly have I shown you that the government and 
 people of the United States desire peace, desire your sincere 
 friendship these rotund sentences penetrated to the 
 emissary as he waited with Quitman s letter it was the 
 second one in the anteroom. General Scott kept much 
 more state than our other commanders; the rough-and-ready 
 style had quite gone out; and he never appeared even on in 
 formal occasions in anything but the most rigid regimentals 
 no slouch hats, bandannas, and cotton ducks for him. 
 When Captain Burke was shortly ushered into the august 
 presence and beheld for the first time the commander-in- 
 chief close at hand, over six feet of him, all glorious with 
 epaulets and buttons, with thick waving leonine gray hair, 
 with his strong lined face, and what I have no doubt the gen 
 eral himself would have been pleased to hear called his " eagle 
 glance" I say, when Nat was thus introduced to General 
 Winfield Scott, his knees should have smitten together, and 
 his teeth chattered in his head. Nevertheless, he managed 
 to keep a tolerably cool countenance, saluted, handed in his 
 letter and stood at attention while the general accepted it, 
 not quailing at all, nor swaggering either (I hope) beneath 
 the species of casual glower with which he was favored. 
 
 "Oh ah Captain Burton, I believe?" says General 
 Scott, negligently; "from General Quitman yes, I ve had 
 two or three from him already " with which he tossed it 
 
456 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 unopened on the table, turned his back on Burke, and went 
 on dictating. " Cease to be the sport of individual ambi 
 tion, and conduct yourselves were the last words the 
 captain heard as he went out of the door with a rather red 
 face, I dare say. 
 
 Of course the general-in-chief was extremely busy at this 
 time on highly important affairs; his every action, for that 
 matter, was of importance in the eyes of General Scott, 
 whether it was eating "a hasty plate of soup" or directing a 
 campaign. He was a very brave man, an able administrator, 
 undoubtedly one of the greatest, if not the greatest, military 
 genius this country has ever produced; and he had before this 
 date performed many difficult and brilliant feats in making 
 both war and peace, which he was quite willing the world 
 should know about even if he had to tell them. He had 
 and deserved the utmost confidence of all under him 
 from the highest to the lowest; whether their affection also, I 
 cannot say. It is not necessary to a general s success that he 
 should be liked by his troops. It is not even necessary that 
 he should be liked by anybody. Witness General Scott s own 
 account of the frightful odds in the way of personal prejudice 
 against which he always had to contend; throughout his long 
 career he was eternally at loggerheads with some base critic 
 of his acts from the time when, as a young man, he was sus 
 pended from the army for a few months because of careless or 
 insubordinate talk about his superiors, to his recall before the 
 military court at Frederick to answer charges made against 
 him in Mexico. Never was a great man so persecuted by 
 arrogant Presidents, by jealous brother officers, by spiteful 
 underlings, by an ungrateful public. He has told us all about 
 it in his autobiography, and surely he ought to know ! Is it 
 anything to wonder at that Mr. Burke should have displayed 
 an equal narrowness of mind with this raft of enemies? He 
 did not appreciate the general; he wondered that so much 
 ability should be so vain and pompous; he resented Scott s 
 later patronage as much as his first incivility; and, finally, 
 although a good Whig, he voted the Democratic ticket in 
 1852 when Winfield Scott was the former party s candidate. 
 General Quitman was one of those few who never maligned 
 the commander-in-chief, nor caballed against him, as even 
 that much-abused gentleman admits. But, in truth, Burke s 
 
"AND THERE WAS WAR AGAIN" 457 
 
 general, who was the most loyal, high-minded, and kind- 
 hearted of men, would have sacrificed all his prospects and 
 submitted to much greater injustice rather than stir up any 
 kind of open and discreditable dissension in the army. Al 
 though he did, unquestionably, rank General Worth, he gave 
 up that point gracefully and modestly with hardly a word; 
 and with all his ambition and his restless courage consented 
 to remain at Puebla in his anomalous position without a suit 
 able command until at General Scott s convenience and upon 
 the arrival of the fresh levies, a new distribution was made by 
 which he was assigned to the Fourth Division, consisting of 
 volunteer regiments from New York, Pennsylvania, and 
 South Carolina, and a detachment of U. S. Marines. The 
 8th of August we moved on Mexico City. 
 
 (The editor freely confesses that she sees nothing " vain" 
 or " pompous " in General Scott s manners on the above occa 
 sion; nor anything elsewhere to warrant the sarcasms Gen 
 eral Burke so liberally bestows on him. It is strange that a 
 man of Burke s character should have taken undying offence 
 upon so trivial a cause; that he did is abundantly evidenced 
 not only in this passage, but at almost every reference he 
 makes to Scott. He seems to have been not ashamed but 
 uneasily aware of this small prejudice; and clears his con 
 science once in a while by a few words of studied and per 
 functory praise. M. S. W.)j 
 
CHAPTER X 
 
 CONTAINS SOME HITHERTO UNPRINTED HISTORY OF THE 
 MEXICAN CAMPAIGN 
 
 DURING the following weeks Captain Burke, whatever his 
 personal prejudices, would have been obliged to admit that 
 our army under the new head was, as a whole, regulars and 
 volunteers, old levies and new, a much more efficient, skil 
 fully handled, rapid-moving, ready, and steady organization 
 than that which the young gentleman had first honored with 
 his company and support at the beginning of this war. Gen 
 eral Scott had the same means and a good many of the same 
 men as General Taylor, the same country and foe, the same 
 harassing departmental instructions and misunderstandings, 
 the same sudden and critical needs, obstacles, emergencies 
 where and in what was the improvement? I do not know; I 
 cannot say that we were any better drilled or cared for yet 
 unquestionably we were a better army. We had put un 
 bounded confidence in Taylor, a plain-spoken man, of quiet 
 habits, and not particularly distinguished appearance; and 
 we felt precisely the same confidence in Scott who went 
 about in a prodigious martial array, orating, dictating, filling 
 the air with sound and fury, magnificent and imposing in all 
 the buttons, fringes, plumes, and gilt trumpery his uniform 
 could possibly accommodate. We cheered him, too, when our 
 general pranced forth at the head of his staff; we admired 
 and respected him, gold braid and all. We even read his 
 proclamations; and the minor generals or officers who were 
 sometimes invited to sit at his august table and share his 
 dinner, laughed at his jokes, and listened to his stories about 
 Lieutenant Winfield Scott, Captain Winfield Scott, Major 
 Winfield Scott, Colonel Winfield Scott with deference, and, 
 what is more, with a real interest. For they were true; they 
 were true reports of great and unusual achievements. They 
 lost nothing by the hero s telling; General Scott never 
 spared us a word that he had uttered nor his most minute 
 
 458 
 
HITHERTO UNPRINTED HISTORY 459 
 
 act; and after all, considering the facts, I never knew a man 
 who had a better right to blow his own trumpet. Mercy on 
 us, what a solo did the general perform on that instrument! 
 He had always had the deciding word in every argument, the 
 final repartee in every contest of wits, the most prominent and 
 difficult role in every dilemma. It was easy for his audience 
 to see even if attention had not been called to it that 
 such a man with such abilities would have shone in any 
 career how lucky that he had chosen the military! He 
 could discuss diplomacy with the Administration, law with 
 General Quitman, letters with Mr. Sharpless (whose company 
 he rather affected; most men liked Jim), equally versatile, 
 facile, and luminous. And both these latter, who were as 
 different by nature as any two human beings could well be, 
 listened to him with an attention profoundly enthusiastic on 
 Quitman s part, slightly amused, but always interested on 
 Jim s. 
 
 "Of course, the old fellow is tremendously cock-sure and 
 arrogant, I know that, Nathan," he said in private moments; 
 "but what if he is? What if he does blow around? By 
 Jingo, he s got something to blow about. He s almost in 
 variably right; he s sane and just with all his gasconading. 
 He s a big man in spite of it. It s extraordinary, such a 
 character; nobody could imagine him he d be unbeliev 
 able in a book, or I d like to put him in one." 
 
 "With all my heart put him in a book, do ! " said Burke, 
 rather dryly. 
 
 "Put him in and keep him there, hey?" said the other, 
 and laughed. "Don t be sarcastic, Nat, it doesn t suit you. 
 Sometimes, do you know, I think you might be a tolerably 
 good hater, if it ever came into your head to dislike any 
 body oh, no "he added and laughed again, as Burke 
 opened his mouth to object "oh, no, I know very well 
 that we "don t dislike our commander-in-chief of course 
 not! and : n any case we wouldn t permit ourselves to 
 criticise him. What, criticise our superior officer *to an out 
 sider? Never ! And anyhow, here lately we have been look 
 ing rather gloomy and down-in-the-mouth. What s the 
 matter, Nat?" 
 
 "Why, nothing, nothing at all. I don t know why I should 
 look gloomy, I haven t anything to be gloomy about," said 
 
460 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 Burke hastily, and wincing a little under his friend s scrutiny. 
 " Heat, vermin, touch of malaria, maybe. I wish these in 
 fernal Mexicans would stand up for once and fight it out, and 
 let us get the business over and done with! " he burst out in 
 an impatience and irritation wholly foreign to him. He got 
 up restlessly and walked to the open canvas flap of the tent. 
 They were in camp at a place called, I think, Buena Vista, a 
 hacienda and village about halfway down amongst the 
 mountains approaching Mexico City; it was on the ancient 
 road that Cortez took, very little changed since his day. A 
 great deal has been said and written about the beauty of this 
 capital seen from a distance, a great deal about fairy spires, 
 crystal air, Popocatepetl exalted among the clouds, the sur 
 rounding lakes like fallen stars, and so on; it must be owned 
 that Mr. Burke, being, perhaps, a little out of sorts or tem 
 per, was not much impressed by these scenic effects. Buena 
 Vista Beautiful View, indeed ! He surveyed it sourly. 
 The village was a sordid little group of adobe huts, pullulat 
 ing with flea-bitten dogs, donkeys, babies, men and women; 
 we were as yet miles from the city, and its fairy spires were 
 invisible to any but the eye of romance. The lakes acquired 
 some importance but no beauty from being almost 
 the only water, except that which fell from the heavens, we 
 saw in our Mexican journeyings; the vegetation was the 
 contorted growth of the tropics, unwholesomely green or 
 bleached to powder, studded with fantastic flowers, heavy 
 with tasteless fruits, unfamiliar, unkind. There was a sort 
 of goblin monstrosity about the landscape with its unnatural 
 jumble of altitudes and temperatures. Oh, for one glimpse 
 of the hills of home! It was August and even the hills of 
 home would have been more or less parched and dusty, the 
 streams half dry, the air lifeless but Nathan did not re 
 member that. 
 
 " Seems as if we hadn t had any letters for a long while, 
 doesn t it?" said Jim casually not so casually, however, 
 but that Burke darted a quick, almost a suspicious glance at 
 him. The mail from the States had come less than two 
 weeks before; he wondered if Sharpless could have noticed 
 anything could have noticed, for instance, that there was 
 no letter from Mary, nor had been since since how long? 
 Nat averted his mind; he did not want to know. Instead, 
 
HITHERTO UNPRINTED HISTORY 461 
 
 that mail had contained, a good deal to the young man s as 
 tonishment, a letter for him from Miss Clara Vardaman. 
 The thing had never happened before, and Nathan, who 
 would not have dreamed of soliciting the lady s correspond 
 ence, was proportionately surprised at her offering it; Miss 
 Clara was an embodied convention, a kind of walking Man- 
 ual-of-Etiquette for spinsters; for a moment he feared some 
 catastrophe the doctor might be ill. No such thing; John 
 was in good health, Miss Vardaman herself was in good health, 
 everybody was healthy and prospering; she hoped it was the 
 same with him, and rejoiced to think he had escaped the 
 hazards of this dreadful war so far, and, if he would let her 
 say it, with so much honor. She was following the movements 
 of the army with the greatest interest. A great deal 
 got into the papers, and was circulated about in other 
 ways that was not true. But one could always tell. She made 
 it a point not to believe all the silly and terrible stories she 
 heard, and John said she was quite right. Seeing was be 
 lieving, and she did not mean to rely on anybody s judg 
 ment but her own. There was really no news in town. It 
 was a little out-of-the-way for her to write to him; but she 
 thought he might be lonely so far away from home. And 
 she was always his attached and faithful friend, Clara Varda 
 man. 
 
 Burke had read the letter through perplexed and a little 
 touched ; there was nothing in it ; it was a sudden and rather 
 uncalled-for expression of good-will. She thought he might 
 be lonely; well, Miss Clara was always kind, and if this par 
 ticular species of kindness seemed to him quite out of her 
 character, it was none the less pleasant and grateful; and 
 what did he know about women s characters, after all? he 
 finished with a whimsical sigh. " No news is good news, any 
 how. One always hears the calamities too soon," Jim 
 went on, exaggerating the casual tone perhaps. "I I 
 was wondering if at home they had any inkling if poor 
 Mrs. Ducey could possibly have heard anything about George, 
 you know." 
 
 "Hey? About George?" 
 
 " Why, yes. Pshaw, Nat, the whole army knew about him 
 there at Monterey; half a dozen different men have spoken 
 about it to me. They all say it s never happened in our army 
 
462 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 before, an officer regular or enlisted, to desert Benedict 
 Arnold on a small scale, that s how they look on George, only 
 not so dangerous 
 
 "I should think not," said Burke, somewhat amused. "If 
 George did desert, it wasn t to go over to the Mexicans not 
 willingly, anyhow. He just wanted to get away where there 
 wouldn t be any fighting. Very likely the poor fellow s dead 
 by this time he couldn t go home he couldn t take care 
 of himself. Let him be. He wasn t much good, but he wasn t 
 much harm either." 
 
 "Wasn t he?" said Sharpless, hesitating and flushing; 
 "I I don t know about that, Nathan." Burke turned 
 around quickly, and for an instant they looked at each other. 
 Neither had ever touched this subject before, near as they 
 were together in spirit; pride, loyalty, noblesse oblige, a 
 decent reserve, call it what you choose, some feeling had 
 kept them both from questions. 
 
 "George wrote home a long, scandalous story, a a vile 
 story about you and some woman, Nat," said Sharpless, 
 answering his friend s look with a hot and shamed face; 
 "he wrote to his mother and I don t know who else. It went 
 all over town. People love to talk about a thing like that, 
 somehow even when everybody knows that George 
 Ducey is a born liar and no earthly account, and they 
 wouldn t listen to anything else he told under oath " 
 he spoke with hurried and broken phrases, suffering far more, 
 I think, in this revelation than Burke, who had perhaps un 
 consciously steeled himself against it. 
 
 "Do they believe it?" Nat asked, quite calmly. 
 
 Sharpless made a gesture of helplessness. "Nathan, 
 I don t know people are so if it had been anybody 
 but you, any other young fellow, somebody who hadn t 
 always been so steady and upright and and straight, 
 I believe on my soul they wouldn t have paid one-fourth as 
 much attention to it ! But you ! It seemed to make a par 
 ticularly choice morsel for every cursed busybody in the place. 
 Believe! You can t tell what people believe they like to 
 talk, anyhow. I I don t think Miss Blake believed it - 
 said Jim, evading the other s eyes. "She I naturally 
 we couldn t speak about it it s shameful for a girl like her 
 to have to hear such a thing, but of course the older women 
 
HITHERTO UNPRINTED HISTORY 463 
 
 all think it s their duty to warn the young ones. Women are 
 that way, you know. I think it s likely Francie didn t under 
 stand all of it. But from the way she spoke to me about 
 George from various things she s said, I m sure she didn t 
 believe it." 
 
 He paused apprehensively; it was doubtless in his mind, 
 as it certainly was in Burke s that the next question might 
 very well be, Did his sister Mary believe it? And whether 
 it was supreme confidence or a torturing distrust that kept 
 that question back, Nathan himself could not have told. 
 
 "They hadn t stopped pawing it over when I left home," 
 Jim went on after a minute s silence. " You ve got to being a 
 kind of public character with us, you see, Nat, Fighting 
 Burke and all that, you know. I suppose you have to 
 expect to be talked about. It doesn t make much difference 
 to the men; good or bad, we take one another pretty easy; 
 we ve got to fadge along. But the women you d have to 
 demonstrate by every species of proof known to the human 
 race that the report was without even the slightest founda 
 tion before they " 
 
 "Oh, it has a foundation," said Burke, grimly; "it has a 
 solid foundation. If I tell you 
 
 "I don t ask you to tell me anything, Nat!" 
 
 "But I m going to tell you " Burke said; and he did, 
 the whole poor story without reservation. "You see how 
 it was; you see there wasn t any getting out of it, even if 
 I d wanted to," he finished. "I have to take care of Nance, 
 no matter how people look at it. I knew that from the 
 start, as soon as I found out the poor girl had gone all wrong 
 I knew what we d look like to outsiders to the world at 
 large. There isn t any explaining how in the name of 
 Heaven could you give any explanation? It wouldn t be 
 in Nature for anybody to believe you. It s perfectly reason 
 able for George Ducey or anybody else to draw the worst 
 sort of inferences. Jim, I had to make up my mind one way 
 or the other, right then and there; would I take Nance or 
 leave her? And I don t see how I could have acted any dif 
 ferently; and any man on earth would have done the 
 same 
 
 "I don t know whether they would or not," said Sharpless. 
 
 "I did hope there wouldn t be any talk," said Burke, 
 
464 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 honestly; "I cringed whenever I thought of that. But 
 now it s all out, why, I ve just got to stand it, that s all. If 
 one or two people like you and Jack Vardaman and and 
 if you believe in me, why, it s not so hard. And if I find 
 Nance once more, I m going to keep on doing what I can for 
 her, even if no respectable woman ever speaks to me again. 
 It s a queer kind of false position I m in but I guess I m 
 not the first man I can stand it." 
 
 The advance of the American army, all this while, pro 
 ceeded surely, it may be, but by far too slowly to suit Burke s 
 general, who would have been " thundering at the gates of 
 Mexico," to quote from his own flaming periods, long before 
 this, had he been in charge of the expedition. It is only just 
 to say that Quitman s own troops were in admirable condi 
 tion, for he looked after them with a parental zeal, and being 
 almost all young, hardy, adventurous fellows might indeed 
 have been pushed forward in a much more brisk and brill 
 iant manner. But the commander-in-chief seemed singu 
 larly blind to their merits, or else, as Burke shrewdly sus 
 pected, that very daredevil temper they shared with their 
 leader appeared to Scott desirable anywhere except in the 
 advance of his army. At any rate he kept us in our position 
 towards the rear of the line of march with a tenacity of pur 
 pose which Quitman alternately set down to personal dislike or 
 distrust, to lack of military skill, to the jealousy of some one 
 brother general, to an infamous cabal among all of them, 
 nothing was too far-fetched for him; if it was a little comic, 
 it was also a little distressing to behold this high and hasty 
 spirit so fretted by restraint. Fortunately his military 
 household furnished a handy and economical safety-valve, 
 or nobody knows where the general s resentment might have 
 carried him. 
 
 "You may talk as you please, Burke," he would storm at 
 his aide who sat by in entire silence "you may talk as 
 much as you please, nothing will ever persuade me that there 
 isn t something going on under the surface. It s too deliber 
 ate, it s too persistent, this keeping me in the background. 
 Somebody s got at the general and misrepresented us. 
 Heavens! When I think that he may entertain the idea, 
 he may actually have been brought to believe that my 
 
HITHERTO UNPRINTED HISTORY 465 
 
 splendid South Carolinians, descended from Revolutionary 
 sires, soldiers from their very cradles, sir, with a God-given 
 instinct for fighting, ready to pour out their blood to the last 
 drop for their country - 
 
 "And the Pennsylvania and New York regiments, too, 
 General 
 
 "Yes, yes, of course far be it from me to discriminate 
 among my gallant fellows!" said Quitman, hastily; and, 
 indeed, I am sure he had no such intention, but "my brave 
 Second Pennsylvanians " would have been something of a 
 mouthful even for him; "but when I think that maybe 
 Scott believes they can t be trusted in the field, I tell you, it 
 makes my blood boil. Yet why doesn t he give me a post of 
 honor, if not from some such feeling ? It s a piece of unjustifi 
 able tyranny. Are Pillow s men any better than mine? 
 Are Worth s? I m willing to concede they may be better 
 commanders, though they ve neither one done one single 
 iota more than I towards the success of our arms throughout 
 the war but let that pass. Only why give them all the 
 opportunities? Why not let me have a chance?" 
 
 And so on, and so on. This was the burden of the general s 
 talk from Puebla across the mountains, from the hacienda 
 of the Beautiful View to Chalco, which we reached somewhere 
 about the middle of the month, as I recollect; during the 
 succeeding movement to San Augustin. a frightful march, 
 across interminable fields of broken lava rocks like the bpttom 
 of an old volcano, which I have since been told it really was 
 his spirits began to raise a little. We were now within 
 ten miles of the capital, the divisions were so separated that 
 for the moment nobody could strictly be said to be in ad 
 vance, the mighty fortifications of El Penon which, as 
 it turned out, however, were never attacked were in full 
 sight, the plains between us and the city were alive with 
 Mexican horse and foot, there was hourly expectation of a big 
 engagement, and it was apparent that the whole strength 
 of the army must be called out. 
 
 In spite of this promising beginning, will it be believed that 
 our unfortunate division commander was doomed to another 
 disappointment? All day (the 19th) from where we were 
 camped in the little town of San Augustin and in the corn 
 fields round about, we cculd hear the artillery on our right 
 
 2H 
 
466 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 where (as we understood) Worth was attacking the first of 
 the fortifications on the Acapulco road; there we lay in 
 reserve and listened to it! At this place the Mexicans had 
 posted a battery of over twenty guns, we were told; they 
 were in great force tinder General Valencia; Santa Anna 
 himself was not far away at San Angel where they had forti 
 fied a convent. The fire grew heavier towards evening; 
 our New York and Carolina regiments under Shields were at 
 last ordered forward; night closed in with a drenching cold 
 rain; and a rumor reached us that the position was to be 
 stormed at daybreak. It was the bloody battle of Con- 
 treras that we were witnessing, although none of us knew it, 
 while Burke s general fumed in inaction at headquarters, 
 and his aide rode hither and thither with messages. 
 
 True enough, the cannon opened again very viciously at 
 dawn; and in about an hour or so, to the great relief and 
 delight of everybody, although it augured not too well for 
 the progress of the battle, there came an order for the rest 
 of the division to advance. It was Mr. James Sharpless 
 who brought it, mounted on a stray artillery horse, without 
 any saddle, himself picturesquely wreathed in mud, a bloody 
 bandage on one wrist, his gaunt face grinning out from under 
 an infantryman s fatigue-cap. 
 
 "Good Lord, where have you been?" said Burke, aghast 
 at this apparition. The last he had seen of Jim had been 
 early the day before when in company with another enter 
 prising newspaper correspondent, he was starting to climb 
 the belfry of San Augustin church for a more extended view 
 of the field of battle. "I thought you were safe in bed, 
 or somewhere all this while!" 
 
 "It s all right give me some of that coffee!" said Jim, 
 dismounting stiffly. "It s all right I volunteered with 
 General Shields when I saw em starting for the front yes 
 terday afternoon. That is to say, I just went along he 
 said I could. I was carrying orders all yesterday evening 
 
 I believe I came in pretty handy. D ye know a man 
 named Lee he s in the Engineers, Captain Robert Lee 
 
 d ye know he and I are the only men that got through to 
 headquarters last night? I don t know how many were sent 
 
 ever so many. Let me tell you what the general did 
 General Shields, I mean he spread us all out this morning 
 
HITHERTO UNPRINTED HISTORY 467 
 
 we ve been in that stony place they call the Pedregal, 
 you know he spread us all out all over, and we built fires, 
 and kicked up a big racket as if there were five times as 
 many of us, so as to give the Mexicans a good scare, while 
 Smith got up with his fellows and took em in the flank 
 and rear! Oh, I ll bet we ve got em doubled up by this 
 time, Nat, I ll bet we ve doubled em up!" He was tre 
 mendously excited, like a boy, crowing, jubilant. 
 
 He was right, it presently appeared; we had doubled em 
 up; already had that business been completed, and the 
 enemy were scurrying from behind their works, before the 
 reinforcements could reach our troops. And, alack, instead 
 of being allowed to press on and take part in the movement 
 on Cherubusco, the next object of attack, we were per 
 emptorily ordered to return to our inglorious duty of stand 
 ing guard over the stores and wounded. "By-by! I m 
 off!" said Sharpless, when he heard this news; and in spite 
 of remonstrances, sped incontinently away. For once our 
 young officers and old ones, too envied him his irre 
 sponsibility. "Damn your reserves!" old Colonel Morgan 
 had said on receiving word from General Pillow that such 
 was to be his portion, and we echoed him from the bottom 
 of our hearts. Quitman s staff rode back in glum silence 
 behind their glum general. "This proves that General 
 Scott s animus is directed solely against me against me 
 and nobody else, Burke," he said gloomily; "I intend to 
 have an understanding an explanation. Face to face 
 this is no time for formalities or written evasions! " some 
 thing which his secretary was rather glad to hear, remember 
 ing the general s prowess as a letter-writer. 
 
 All to no purpose were these ferocious statements, how 
 ever. Quitman returned from army headquarters (which 
 were also established at San Augustin, not far from our own) 
 defeated, incoherent with anger and impatience; and at this 
 opportune moment a petition came in to him from the officers 
 of our corps of Marines, pathetically representing that they 
 had left their regular line of service to join our division of 
 the land forces, and felt themselves entitled to some part in 
 the action! 
 
 "Good G d, what do they want me to do?" yelled out 
 Burke s general, flinging the document on the table in a 
 
468 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 fury; "I m not allowed to move, myself! Wv. re all dum 
 mies, figureheads, non-combatants, jumping-jacks that s 
 it, jumping-] acks, and you can tell em that from me, Wat 
 son," he added to the astonished colonel of Marines who had 
 brought the request; "tell em we re not to budge till the 
 commander-in-chief pulls the wires. We re to sit here, and 
 listen while our fellows are being killed, being butchered, 
 by G d, by a horde of slavish Mexicans, and we can t raise 
 a hand to help em!" Tears of rage and mortification 
 stood in the honest gentleman s eyes; he stormed about the 
 room, pouring out his grievance. "I commanded myself, 
 Burke, I was temperate. I said to the general that his orders 
 detailing me to guard this place had cast a gloom over my 
 division. He said my language was unmilitary! Language 
 was unmilitary damnation! Was that an answer?" 
 
 "Yes, but he said more than that, didn t he, General?" 
 suggested the aide, feeling, notwithstanding his own dis 
 appointment, a strong desire to laugh. 
 
 "Oh, rest easy, he said enough and more than enough! 
 I told him flat that we had been kept in the rear since Vera 
 Cruz, or, at least, never in any position where we could get 
 any credit. Then he got very much excited and said he 
 meant always to place his strongest divisions in front, no 
 matter who commanded them! That- shows, Burke, that 
 shows it was just as I suspected; he hadn t any confidence 
 in us in me," said Quitman, who had, as I have said, 
 suspected half a dozen other things besides. "I was per 
 fectly calm as calm as I am now, talking to you. I told 
 him that there were others besides himself who prized their 
 own reputations and characters, and that I was one of them ; 
 that his orders allowed me and my men no chance for dis 
 tinction, and that he would have to pardon my determina 
 tion not to sit down supinely under such neglect!" 
 
 Burke, for all his dislike, felt a twinge of sympathy for 
 General Scott, although, indeed, it was abundantly evident 
 that nobody could be better able to get along without sym 
 pathy than that gentleman. So his orders were obeyed, 
 he probably cared very little how they were received; and 
 brushed General Quitman, or any other brave and high- 
 spirited man out of his way as indifferently as he would have 
 a fly. The quality may not be particularly agreeable in a 
 
HITHERTO UNPRINTED HISTORY 469 
 
 man, but even Burke must acknowledge that it was invalu 
 able in a commander. 
 
 We stayed where we were; the fighting rolled off to the 
 north where they said the enemy were making a last des 
 perate stand at Cherubusco. It was three or four miles 
 away, completely out of sight, but the cannonading inces 
 sant and much louder than the day before; they said that, 
 excepting ourselves, the entire forces of both sides must be 
 engaged. The streets had become one huge hospital; all 
 day the sad procession of wounded filed through with 
 enough of "my gallant" New Yorkers and Carolinians, 
 one would have thought, to have satisfied our general that 
 his command had not been overlooked. Shields s brigade 
 had behaved with the greatest resolution, and suffered se 
 verely both in the Contreras engagement and afterwards. 
 In the late afternoon reports began to come back of astound 
 ing successes for our army the Mexicans were cut to pieces 
 our troops were at the city gates we had made a clean 
 sweep of all the defences we had taken acres of cannon, 
 tons of ammunition, scores of flags, prisoners by the hun 
 dreds Santa Anna himself was in our hands no, Santa 
 Anna was killed no, he was running away, wooden leg 
 and all, with the remaining few Mexicans whom we had not 
 slaughtered Hurrah ! 
 
 Out of all this wild talk emerged the certainty of a great 
 victory of more than one victory, in fact, for on that day 
 our troops fought five successive engagements, at different 
 points, quite separate one from another and each one an 
 attack on strong entrenchments against an enemy in every 
 case outnumbering us, sometimes by as many as three to one. 
 The prisoners and prizes, as we presently found out, were 
 hardly exaggerated; and in one instance, at least, it was 
 true that the Mexicans were driven back and pursued up to 
 the very defences at their city gates, Captain Kearney at 
 the head of his company of dragoons (not hearing or not 
 choosing to hear the recall) having charged them at full 
 speed up to the outworks of the Ninos Perdidos, where this 
 gallant officer was severely wounded. It has repeatedly 
 been stated since, and Burke heard it at the time from many 
 who had taken an active part and were better able to judge 
 than he, that the battles of the 19th and 20th of August 
 
470 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 left the enemy temporarily so shattered and demoralized, 
 we could have entered and taken the city the evening of 
 that second day almost without further opposition cer 
 tainly a great saving of time and bloodshed. But lo, at 
 this supreme moment, General Scott, in the face of Taylor s 
 experience at Monterey, consented to Santa Anna s pro 
 posals for an armistice! I do not feel myself in a position 
 to criticise this action; he doubtless had his reasons for 
 trusting to Mexican promises, listening to Mexican peace- 
 talk, and believing Mexican representations, all of which 
 had been amply demonstrated to be perfectly unreliable 
 time and again. But what man on earth knew as much 
 as General Scott? Or what man on earth could advise 
 him? 
 
 Captain Burke who, like a great many others at the 
 time, had only a very confused idea of what was happening 
 outside of his own immediate observation returning to 
 quarters late and weary that night, encountered there, 
 much to his peace of mind, his friend Sharpless, for whom he 
 had felt considerable anxiety during the day. Jim looked 
 worn out, haggard, and begrimed; but he was writing 
 vigorously with the head of a keg between his knees for a 
 desk, and by the light of an evil-smelling Mexican lamp- 
 wick classically afloat in a broken saucer of oil. He started 
 up when the other entered, and almost before they could 
 exchange a greeting, began with a grave face: 
 
 "Nat, you haven t heard, have you? No, of course you 
 couldn t have heard nobody would have told you, nobody 
 knows but me I was just going out to hunt you up. You 
 knew about the prisoners the ones they took at San 
 Pablo at the church?" 
 
 "San Pablo? The church?" said Nathan, startled by his 
 manner; "at Cherubusco, do you mean? They always 
 fortify the churches everywhere. Was that where the 
 fighting was? I heard they took fifteen hundred - 
 
 "No, no, I don t mean them I don t mean the Mexican 
 prisoners I mean at the church of course you don t 
 know we only took twenty-five or thirty of them, all 
 Americans the rest were all shot didn t you know - 
 
 "Oh, you mean those fellows they call the Brigade of Saint 
 Patrick?" Yes, I knew about that," Burke said, wondering 
 
HITHERTO UNPRINTED HISTORY 471 
 
 at the other s excitement; "well, what of it? What s the 
 matter?" 
 
 Jim interrupted. "Nathan," he said, unconsciously 
 lowering his voice, "George Ducey was among them! I saw 
 him. They ve got em all in irons. They say they ll all be 
 hanged for deserting, every man!" 
 
CHAPTER XI 
 THE BRIGADE OF SAINT PATRICK 
 
 IT would be hard to describe what Burke felt and thought, 
 whether surprise or horror, or a mere general rebellion of the 
 senses at this piece of news. George a deserter was easy 
 enough to figure he was familiar with that conception 
 but George being hanged for it! The tragedy was out of 
 all proportion monstrous, incredible. The thing that in 
 any other case would have seemed to Nat of all men s acts 
 the most contemptible, as performed by George became 
 natural and inevitable; the punishment he would have con 
 sidered not one whit too stern took on an aspect of hideous 
 injustice. Hang the deserters? Why, certainly but not 
 George. George was different; nobody that knew George 
 would either blame him for running away what could you 
 expect? or want to hang him for doing it. Hang that 
 poor bundle of folly and feebleness? Surely the awful laws 
 of war were not made for such as he. The futility of these 
 objections was apparent to Burke even while they hurried 
 through his mind; none the less, his whole being rose up in 
 protest. 
 
 "I saw him. There can t be any doubt about it," said 
 Jim, misreading the other s silence. "Are you surprised? 
 Why, everybody thought he d deserted you thought he 
 might have, yourself." 
 
 "I know but what s he doing here?" Burke said in a 
 kind of maze; "George wouldn t fight why, George 
 couldn t fight!" His voice rose almost irritably. "Any 
 body that knows George it s impossible, I tell you. If 
 there was any fight in him, why didn t he stay on his own 
 side? How d he get here f They can t hang him it s 
 why, it s ridiculous!" 
 
 "A deserter s a deserter, you can t get around that," said 
 
 472 
 
THE BRIGADE OF SAINT PATRICK 473 
 
 Sharpless; "as to fighting, he wasn t, I believe but I 
 don t know that that s got anything to do with it." 
 
 "He wasn t with them of his own free will he couldn t 
 have joined em voluntarily - " said Nathan, weakly. 
 
 "He must have run away of his own free will you can t 
 imagine anybody kidnapping him," Jim retorted and 
 neither one thought of smiling at this grotesque suggestion; 
 the moment was too serious. "That ll all come out at the 
 trial, anyhow. They won t turn the wretches off without a 
 trial." 
 
 "How many of them are there?" asked Nathan, with 
 aroused interest. 
 
 " I don t know about thirty, I think. There were more 
 than that to begin with, somebody told me, about a hundred. 
 They were in two regular companies with uniforms and good 
 arms better than the Mexicans themselves and they 
 really did call them that the Brigade of Saint Patrick, 
 you know. Riley was in command of em they called 
 him Major Riley. I saw him. I saw em all, and they didn t 
 look like such a hard lot, no worse than the rest of us, after 
 marching and living so long in the open roughing it the 
 way we have. They were all of em killed but these few 
 shot in the San Pablo fight. I was talking to a fellow in the 
 3d, he said they fought like fiends he said the Mexicans 
 put up a white flag, and these fellows pulled it down three 
 times." 
 
 "You didn t see any of that yourself, though?" 
 
 "No, no. I was just following along behind our men, 
 and and looking on, you know," said Jim. He went on 
 talking a little brokenly, evidently trying to collect and 
 arrange his memories. "When I left you this morning I 
 thought I d hunt up General Shields again. I understood 
 he was moving over towards Cherubusco; it seems to be a 
 sort of suburban-residence place like this, a handsome little 
 town, you know, where the Mexican grandees go in summer 
 time. Somebody told me it was between four and five miles 
 straight east from Contreras. I started off in that general 
 direction; after a while there began to be firing. I left the 
 road, thinking I d take a short cut across some maguey 
 plantations, where I could see the artillery and horses had 
 gone before, and then I got all mixed up, and the firing by 
 
474 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 that time was pretty general, in every direction. I hadn t 
 any idea who I d run into next, Mexicans or our fellows, so 
 I went on more cautiously, and presently struck the Coyacan 
 road and then, praise the Lord, I knew where I was because 
 I remembered it from yesterday!" 
 
 After this, it appeared, he had fallen in with a body of our 
 troops on the way to reenforce Worth at San Antonio; and 
 having been supplied with a gun and ammunition (he was 
 totally unarmed!) at the instance of some officer whom he 
 knew, joined them or followed them, as he said in the 
 attack on that point, and on the bridge-head at the Rio 
 Cherubusco where there was a very hot struggle lasting an 
 hour or more. 
 
 "I think it was about two o clock this afternoon when it 
 began," he said. " We were in sight of the town, but not near 
 enough to know what was going on there. Where we were 
 the enemy gave away all at once just like that it seemed 
 as if you could feel them breaking. All our men knew it, 
 and began to run forward, hurrahing. It must have been 
 about the same time, or only a few minutes later that San 
 Pablo surrendered; we saw the white flag run up, and then, 
 in a second or two, our own. The fighting went on some 
 time longer on the other side of the town the north side, 
 that is, where Shields was, you know." 
 
 He made his way into the town, amongst many dreadful 
 sights and sounds, and after some devious adventures reached 
 the plaza, and found two companies of the 3d Infantry in pos 
 session of the church. They had already converted it into a 
 hospital and prison; our troops were coming in on all sides; 
 the battle was over; he could not tell how long it had taken, 
 perhaps three hours. Our losses had been very heavy - 
 nothing like the Mexicans, though ! but he couldn t get 
 any reliable information; everybody was too exhausted or 
 too excited. A private told him that Lieutenant Alexander 
 was the first man over the fortifications, and pointed out 
 the breach where they had entered. There was a high wall 
 of adobe bricks surrounding the church where the enemy 
 had planted their batteries, and on the flat roof, this man said, 
 they posted their sharp-shooters who had been very active 
 in picking off our men. "The fellow went on to say that 
 they were all Americans and shot better than the Mexi- 
 
THE BRIGADE OF SAINT PATRICK 475 
 
 cans They knocked over every officer they could see/ 
 he said, cursing; but we ve got em now. They ll swing 
 for it. Want to see em, mister? 
 
 "I didn t know what he meant," Jim continued. "I 
 knew they didn t hang prisoners of war, and thought the man 
 must be a little bit cracked. But just then George Kendall 
 the New Orleans Picayune man, you know, he s been with 
 Worth since the fighting commenced came along asking 
 where the Saint Patrick s Brigade prisoners were, and then 
 I understood. The soldier said he d show us. Kendall 
 made some joke about looking for some missing friends of 
 ours! They had them separated from the others in a room 
 which was the sacristy, I believe. It was rather dark in 
 there; they were standing up, lying down, sitting around on 
 the benches, making themselves as comfortable as they could 
 in their manacles, not at all restive under inspection, rather 
 stolid. It was only a few hours after the fight maybe they 
 didn t realize their position yet; or maybe they knew it 
 was all up and didn t care. You can t help wondering what 
 a man like that thinks of himself, anyway or if he thinks 
 at all. They say, you know, that the Mexicans bribed them 
 with promises of money and an officer s rank; everybody 
 was to be a colonel or a general, I suppose. There s some 
 thing sordid and pathetic and ridiculous in that, somehow. 
 And here they all were, no better than they would have been 
 in their own army deserters with the rope around their 
 necks, and the scorn of every honest man on both sides ! 
 
 "Well, you saw George?" interrupted Burke, a little im 
 patiently. 
 
 "Not right away we didn t go in at first, you know. 
 Then Kendall asked the corporal in charge if we could talk 
 to the prisoners; the man said yes, he guessed so, if we wanted 
 to, and looked at us a little curiously. I suppose he won 
 dered how anybody could care to have anything to do with 
 them except in the way of duty. Yet our men seem always 
 to be very kind to the Mexican prisoners, I ve noticed, crack 
 jokes and share tobacco and so on; nobody came near these 
 fellows, except one of the surgeons to bandage up some 
 of them that were wounded. I felt a kind of diffidence about 
 talking to them I didn t know what to say if it hadn t 
 been for Kendall, I might not have gone in. But I followed 
 
476 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 him. He went up to one and asked if he was Riley? The 
 man said no, and pointed put Riley sitting in a corner talk 
 ing to another that had his head between his hands. Are 
 you Riley? Kendall said to the first. He looked up, and 
 answered civilly, Yes, sir. And then there was a kind 
 of silence, and even Kendall seemed stuck for something to 
 say next. The other man raised his head, and, Nathan, it 
 was George Ducey! 
 
 "He stared; I stared. I m not certain now whether he 
 knew me. I was just on the edge of shouting out his name, 
 when I remembered his mother and the family and stopped 
 myself. But I must have made some kind of noise, because 
 Kendall turned around and said, What s that? I 
 said, Nothing, that man looks like somebody I know, 
 that s all. Riley said, Well, if you should happen to know 
 anybody here, sir, I hope you ll remember we need all the 
 friends we ve got? This he said in not at all a cring 
 ing way, however; he was quite straightforward and matter 
 of fact. Then George spoke not to me, nor to anybody 
 in particular I wish they d take these things off my 
 hands they hurt me, oh, they hurt me ! and he began 
 to cry. He was as dirty and unkempt as everybody else, 
 and he cried the tears ran down into his dirty half -grown 
 beard Lord ! Riley tried to comfort him ; he seems to 
 be fond of George. The others were indifferent. I got out 
 of the place as quick as I could I couldn t stand it." 
 
 One might have fancied that the armistice was arranged 
 solely for the purpose of affording time for the trial of this 
 handful of sinners; for the proceedings covered nearly the 
 whole of the two or three weeks during which we lay idle 
 before Mexico City, and created a deal of stir in the camp 
 much more than the peace negotiations also going forward, 
 which ultimately fell through, and which everybody believed 
 would fall through, from the beginning. The case of the 
 deserters touched the rank and file more nearly, and was 
 of far more vital interest than any sort of cloudy diplomatic 
 discussions; and the verdict when it was announced, ruthless 
 as it must sound to civilian ears, probably made a very deep 
 and salutary impression on the army at large. 
 
 The companions of Saint Patrick were tried by a general 
 
THE BRIGADE OF SAINT PATRICK 477 
 
 court-martial presided over by Colonel Riley of the 2d In 
 fantry, to which regiment a number of them had belonged ; 
 and two-thirds of the court concurring in every several case, 
 they were all pronounced guilty and sentenced to hang by 
 the neck until they were dead, dead, dead an awful hearing 
 for spectators as well as accused. The condemned men 
 with the single exception of George Ducey were all from the 
 regular army, and well known in their ancient regiments; 
 and Captain Burke, a little to his surprise, found himself 
 not alone in the various efforts he made during all this while 
 to enlist the clemency of the court on George s behalf. There 
 was not one of these wretches so abandoned but that one 
 friend at least came and put in a good word for him! I 
 do not say that this discovery moved Burke to any pity 
 or sympathy for the traitors themselves; each one repre 
 sented, doubtless, the worst, the most brutal and degraded 
 elements of his class; yet even he must have some one good 
 quality, some poor grace recognized and remembered kindly 
 by his mates. Burke thought he saw in this a thing, small 
 indeed, but withal touching, and creditable to humanity. 
 In that gathering everybody certainly was in need of friends, 
 as their leader had remarked; but Nathan had considerable 
 difficulty in winning any one over to his own views about 
 George. General Quitman received the story in silence with 
 a sombre face, at length informing the captain coldly that he 
 was exceedingly sorry to be of no assistance, but since he 
 had never known Lieutenant Ducey, he could not possibly 
 speak for him ; that he was willing to believe the young man 
 was of weak character, easily influenced, and led astray by 
 bad company. "But," he added with that impressive 
 formality which he always displayed towards any questions 
 of military law, custom, or precedent whatever, "but you 
 will perhaps allow me to say, Captain Burke, that these con 
 siderations do not seem to me sufficiently weighty to warrant 
 a reversal or commutation of the sentence." Which was 
 entirely true, or, at least, unanswerable. Admitting that 
 George was a harmless fool, that was hardly a reason why 
 he should not be punished for the crime he had knowingly 
 committed; Burke s private and unshakable conviction was 
 that such a punishment would be a sad miscarriage of justice 
 but how was he to make anybody else think so? He 
 
478 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 wondered if ever any man before was put to such a 
 job. 
 
 He went to see George. The deserters were removed to 
 the convent of San Angel as soon as practicable, and de 
 cently lodged there during their trial. Some of our sick and 
 wounded were accommodated in the cells and long, cool 
 corridors whence almost all the monks had fled in dire panic 
 on the American approach. It was a pretty spot, very green 
 and flowery now during the rainy season, with a fountain in 
 the patio in the midst of the cloisters, and some caged paro 
 quets and other bright birds whom our convalescents tended 
 zealously. From the roofs and balconies the building 
 standing high with a wide outlook one might see the city 
 twinkling in the distance, plains populated with tents, our 
 flag breaking into ripples overhead; and at night and morn 
 ing the familiar bugles declaimed cheerily from point to 
 point. The world must look tragically pleasant to the pris 
 oners these days, Burke thought, as he sought their quarters. 
 
 George was sick, it seemed; he was lying full-length on a 
 bench, his eyes looking rather wildly out of his pallid face, 
 and another man was fanning him with a sombrero which 
 was all decorated with silver bullion cords and tassels, and 
 with a handsomely embroidered letter "R" on either side 
 of the crown in the Mexican fashion. The Samaritan thus 
 employed who had as villanous a face as ever I beheld 
 - was in fact the notorious Riley, leader of the brigade, 
 Major, as he called himself, and he got up and saluted when 
 Burke came in with the turnkey. 
 
 " He s got a little fever, I think," he explained. And added 
 with a sidelong glance, "Friend o Ducey s, sir?" 
 
 George raised his head, and looked at his old captain, and 
 recognized him with hardly a sign of surprise or any other 
 emotion, for that matter. "Ah, Burke, how d ye do?" he 
 said in a ghastly voice, and sank back again. Nathan 
 stammered out some kind of greeting, and sat down by him. 
 Nobody offered to shake hands. The rest of the prisoners 
 were dispersed about the room, no longer wearing shackles; 
 a couple played cards, quite half a dozen were smoking. 
 They looked at the visitor casually, knowing that he was not in 
 terested in any of them. Of this entire company Burke was 
 the only honest man; and the only one who might expect to 
 
THE BRIGADE OF SAINT PATRICK 479 
 
 live out the week : yet he was to judge by appearances infi 
 nitely the most ill at ease! I suppose there is a limit to every 
 man s capacity for sensation, and, having reached it, he can 
 not be made any more frightened, or angrier, or sadder, or 
 worked to any greater pitch of feeling whatever. Nothing 
 else, it seemed to Burke, could account for a calm which 
 would have been called heroic under any other circum 
 stances. 1 
 
 "This is a bad business, George," he said at last; and the 
 other only giving a kind of groan, he went on, "I ve been 
 talking to some of the officers that were on the court, you 
 know, but they they don t seem to be able to do anything 
 individually, so I m going to see General Scott." 
 
 George sat up. "You tell him it s all a lie, Nathan," he 
 said shrilly. "I never deserted I wouldn t desert. I 
 wasn t fighting I never raised my hand I never fired a 
 shot you can ask anybody here. I ve I ve been a 
 prisoner right along. They they made me do it. I 
 
 didn t want to go with em I tried to get away from em 
 j i 
 
 "All right, I ll tell him," said Burke, cutting short this 
 incoherent harangue as gently as he could. "Only he ll 
 want to know more, George. He ll want to know why you 
 ran away in the first place before Monterey, remember?" 
 
 "I didn t run away," George screamed out, trembling; "I 
 never ran away, Burke. Whoever says I ran away is telling 
 a lie. Who said I ran away? Everybody is always telling 
 lies about me. I m all alone I haven t any friends I 
 didn t run away, I tell you!" His chin quivered; his face 
 knotted up like a child s; the tears ran down. "Oh, won t 
 somebody please listen to me? I didn t desert I m not a 
 deserter! I just I just 
 
 "He just kinder straggled off, didn t ye, George?" said 
 Riley, interrupting (to Burke s amazement) in an anxious 
 voice, and not at all satirically. "He just dropped outer 
 the ranks, like men do, ye know," he went on addressing 
 Burke; "and first thing he knew, he was lost and wandering 
 
 1 I was told afterwards by eye-witnesses that the condemned men 
 met their death in every case with the best possible composure and 
 decency of bearing. N. BURKE. 
 
480 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 round in the chap ral miles from anywhere. That s where 
 we found him we come along and found him ain t 
 that the way it was, George? So we made him come along 
 with us, just like he says 
 
 " And tell him I didn t fight you know I didn t fight, tell 
 him that!" George cried. He clutched at Riley s coat with 
 a gesture of frenzied appeal. "Tell him I didn t fight the 
 men made me fight I never raised my hand " 
 
 "To be sure you didn t," said Riley, "you keep quiet, 
 George, let me do the talking. He never fit a lick, sir. We 
 just kept him along with us, to do the cooking and clean up 
 the camp 
 
 "That s it that s it I cooked, and I washed their 
 shirts, didn t I? Tell the general that was all I did every 
 single thing. You ll tell him that, won t you, Nat? Don t 
 you think that ll make a a difference? They wouldn t 
 hang a man for that, would they? I didn t do am/thing, I 
 tell you. I why, I was always wanting to go back to our 
 army wasn t I, Riley? and they wouldn t let me 
 
 "Just you let me tell the cap.," Riley said soothingly. 
 "I ll tell him. You re sick, you know. You d better not 
 talk any more." And it is the barest justice to say that Mr. 
 Riley s tale which he thereupon delivered with many but 
 not too many asseverations of its truth was admirably 
 conceived, and rendered in a style calculated to gain credit 
 and sympathy from any audience unacquainted with its 
 hero or the narrator himself. It was an elaborated version 
 of what he had already told Burke; George had never had 
 any intention of deserting; he had not run away, he had got 
 separated from the regiment in the confusion of the march, 
 to his own great alarm and distress. It was after nightfall; 
 he had wandered about helplessly, not daring to appeal to 
 the natives for fear of being murdered, and suffering greatly 
 from hunger and thirst, for the better part of the following 
 two days. In these circumstances Riley s party had 
 providentially or not, as you choose to look at it 
 stumbled upon him; he had been a prisoner of theirs, prac 
 tically, ever since, although consistently refusing to act 
 against his countrymen a part of the story which Burke 
 could very well believe. In fact, the renegade chief, with a 
 captivating ingenuousness, acknowledged that this recruit 
 
THE BRIGADE OF SAINT PATRICK 481 
 
 was no soldier; adding that at the trial George s terror and 
 bewilderment had been such that he was unable to give a 
 coherent statement of these events. 
 
 I am sure that part of all this was true; but how much, or 
 how distorted, or what George really did do, or in what way 
 he fell in with the Brigade of Saint Patrick, nobody will ever 
 know; afterwards, when left to himself, he either entered a 
 general denial, or told half a dozen different and contradic 
 tory stories. I am not certain whether, even in the very act 
 of deserting, he had any conception of the enormity of his 
 offence; a man who is honest to nobody cannot, in nature, 
 be honest with himself, and the Lord who made him alone 
 knows under what guise George s actions appeared before 
 his own eyes. At the time it would have been manifestly 
 disastrous to let him do his own lying; but I have not yet 
 ceased to wonder at Riley s benevolent intervention. What 
 sentiment was it of affection or pity, strangely enough 
 lodged in that ruffianly breast that moved Riley to plead for 
 him? The fellow, blackguard as he was, undoubtedly pos 
 sessed both force and intelligence of a certain order; and 
 I can only suppose his fondness for George who requited 
 it with a perfect indifference and ingratitude to have been 
 one of those unaccountable fancies we sometimes see of the 
 strong for the weak. 
 
 It now became Burke s duty to carry the history to Gen 
 eral Scott; and if anyone imagines that this errand was 
 agreeable to the captain, let him disabuse himself of that 
 idea. The commander-in-chief received him in his usual 
 stately manner, and heard him through with patience. 
 
 "Are you aware, Captain Burke," he said at the end, 
 "that I have here " and he tapped a great heap of papers 
 lying before him on the table "I have here an application 
 of the same nature from every one of these men? I have 
 looked into every case with the utmost minuteness, for " 
 said the general, sonorously, "clemency and humanity, para 
 doxical as it may seem, I hold to be the first of a soldier s 
 duties. I have commuted no less than eight of the sentences, 
 wherever there was the least excuse for it. Now you come 
 with your plea. As I understand it, this young man says he 
 strayed away somehow or other, and was picked up some 
 how or other by Riley s brigade, who thereafter kept him, 
 2i 
 
482 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 somehow or other, and more or less against his will. Without 
 meaning to doubt you at all, Captain, that seems to me a very 
 fishy story. For one thing, men of that caliber don t burden 
 themselves with a useless prisoner, in general. They either 
 shoot him down or let him go. And on the other hand, he 
 doesn t appear to have made a real effort to escape, as 
 almost any man would in such a position. How was that? " 
 
 "He would be incapable of it, I think," said Burke; "he s 
 not strong physically or or mentally. He couldn t invent 
 any plan of escape, and force was out of the question." 
 
 "You mean to say he isn t entirely responsible?" 
 
 "No, not that exactly. But but he s only a boy, in 
 fact." 
 
 "Only a boy?" echoed the chief, and glanced through his 
 papers; "according to this he s twenty-five years old. Is 
 that a mistake?" 
 
 "No, that s correct. But he s not very mature in some 
 respects." 
 
 "When I was twenty-five, I was a man, Captain Burke," 
 said General Scott, impressively; "and a man, I may add 
 without vanity, who had already been of some service to his 
 country." 
 
 "General," said Burke, "you were Winfield Scott." A 
 remark which, I think, was by no means ill-placed. 
 
 If you will turn to the records of the time, you will find 
 that, for one reason or another, nine of the deserters were 
 released from the death penalty, among them being our 
 friend Riley, who, it appeared, had deserted before the begin 
 ning of the war, and although he most richly deserved it, 
 could not, according to Scott s ruling, legally be held. In 
 stead, he was sentenced, like some of the others, I believe, to 
 be whipped, and branded in the hand, following the sav 
 age military code of our day. George Ducey escaped these 
 punishments, and Captain Burke moved him at once to 
 other quarters at San Augustin where he remained in safety 
 and quiet until the fall of the city. The rest duly paid their 
 score; and I am told that the tree at a cross-roads some 
 where between San Angel and the town of Tacubaya where 
 the Irish brigade were hanged is still shown to tourists in 
 Mexico. 
 
CHAPTER XII 
 
 THE STREET OF THE GOOD DEATH 
 
 HOSTILITIES being resumed at the end of a fortnight or 
 so during which the enemy repeatedly and shamelessly 
 violated the terms of the armistice and their own most 
 solemn engagements the city of Mexico at length sur 
 rendered after two days of determined fighting on both sides, 
 September 13, 1847 an event which virtually closed this 
 war. In the final hot and bloody actions Quitman s division 
 bore a handsome part, the general conducting himself per 
 sonally with the most splendid gallantry, charging the bat 
 teries before and at the Belem Gate at the head of his men, 
 and carrying them under a murderous fire; and successfully 
 holding this advanced and perilous position actually within 
 the city until the surrender several hours later. It is true 
 that Burke s general was afterwards mildly reprimanded by 
 the commander-in-chief for attacking this point at all, 
 having been directed to move against the other gate (the 
 San Cosme) which, being commanded by the fortress, 1 had 
 been left by the enemy practically undefended, and might 
 have been taken with far less risk and loss. General Scott, 
 however, let it be plainly seen that in his heart of hearts he 
 did not in the least blame his subordinate; who could expect 
 a man like Quitman to remember instructions in a moment 
 of victorious excitement? Certainly his aide had no business 
 to make comments, for that staid and strong-minded young 
 person forgot all about the instructions, too ! 
 
 The war was over; the Mexican generals fled; the Mexican 
 army scattered to the four winds ; the Mexican government 
 I was going to say fell into chaos, but as a matter of fact it 
 could scarcely become any more chaotic than it had already 
 been for years. And owing in part to this deplorable condi 
 tion, the peace negotiations conducted by Mr. Trist, a sort 
 
 1 Chapultepec. 
 483 
 
484 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 of unofficial envoy of President Folk s, by General Scott, by 
 pretty nearly anybody and everybody who chose to take a 
 hand, were prolonged and intricate to a degree. While 
 they went on nothing was settled until the following 
 spring the United States Army lived at pleasant quarters 
 in and about the city, our division occupying a big Domini 
 can Convent, and the buildings of the Military College on a 
 street called the Estampa Jesus, leading to one of the gates. 
 General Quitman, having been made military governor (an 
 appointment suitable to his rank, and one which gave him, I 
 believe^ great gratification), was housed with his official 
 family in the Palacio National, this being the first and only 
 time in his life when Burke enjoyed a residence of so mag 
 nificent a title. Our officers, indeed, soon discovered that its 
 magnificence was a matter solely of the title and nothing 
 else; the National Palace lacked the comforts one would 
 have found in the simplest of our homes. It was a draughty 
 old stone barn, scantily supplied with tawdry old cotton vel 
 vet upholsterings and hangings, with a huge melancholy 
 dirty courtyard in the middle of it, vast yawning doors and 
 windows through which the chill winds roamed unhindered, 
 Brobdingnagian ceilings and Lilliputian stoves. To make up 
 for these drawbacks, our palace looked upon the open square 
 of the Zocalo, very brilliant and lively in the mornings, with 
 a pretty market where they sold flowers and birds, across the 
 way, and backed by the pinkish plaster fayade of the cathe 
 dral; and by and by the Mexican young ladies began tc 
 come shyly forth and show their dark eyes and high-colored 
 costumes in the plaza, and took very kindly to the music of 
 our regimental bands playing of an evening. On the whole,, 
 they supported the presence of the invader with tolerable 
 fortitude, and the spectacle of these petticoats was infinitely 
 refreshing to the invader himself. Lord, how wearied out we 
 all were with the camp, with the sight of our own bearded, 
 weather-beaten faces, with our worn, stained, dusty uniforms, 
 with the eternal movement of our life! If there had been a 
 prospect of further fighting, I believe there was not a man of 
 us but would have gone at it, with as fresh a zeal as in the 
 beginning; but now, with nothing but peace on the hori 
 zon, what we longed for above all else in the world was home. 
 Captain Burke visited the hospital to see a soldier of the 
 
THE STREET OF THE GOOD DEATH 485 
 
 2d Pennsylvanias, who had been severely wounded in the 
 leg at the advance of our storming parties, and informed 
 him that he would certainly get the silver medal " for bravery 
 on the field of battle." " Yes, sir?" says Private Donaldson 
 (I think that was his name) . Yes, sir ? " says the poor fellow, 
 listlessly. "I m gittin almighty tired o these Mexican vittles, 
 ain t you, sir? I wisht I could have one o maw s dough 
 nuts!" 
 
 Being settled in the city, Burke was now obliged to "turn 
 from the sword to the pen" (which I quote from General 
 Quitman), and among the letters, orders, proclamations, and 
 so on which his general poured forth in abundance, the secre 
 tary took time to write to Mrs. Ducey, acquainting her with 
 the finding of her son, which he did briefly and as gently as 
 was possible, merely reciting the central fact, and leaving 
 George to supply the details. He had been found and would 
 go home as soon as he was fit to travel, wrote Burke, fer 
 vently hoping that nobody would inquire into the manner of 
 the finding; what the young man himself told his family, 
 Nat never knew. George had to be coaxed, argued, ordered 
 to write, as if he had been a child; he was really not well in 
 some obscure way; he would shrink and tremble pitifully at 
 a sudden noise ; he was thin and weak, and his face had fallen 
 into uncanny lines of age. "Let him alone he ll be all 
 right," the doctor answered rather unsympathetically to 
 Burke s questions. "He s nothing but a bundle of nerves 
 like a woman; he hasn t got over his scare yet, but he will 
 in a little. Sleeps sound and eats like a ploughboy ; he doesn t 
 need any medicine. Let him alone." But if letting alone 
 could have cured him, George would have recovered then 
 and there; for excepting Burke himself and Jim Sharpless 
 who, although he disliked George as much as he could dislike 
 anybody, had nevertheless too kind a heart and too much 
 feeling for old days and associations to cast him off no 
 one ever came near the young man or so much as asked after 
 him. It had been only a year, and there were many officers 
 yet with us who could remember him ; but none of them ever 
 saw George as he passed along the streets, none of them 
 acknowledged his salutes, he might have been wrapped in 
 clouds such as we are told encompassed the Olympians, 
 only, alas, there was nothing noble about poor George s 
 
486 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 isolation. The position would have been intolerable to most 
 men; for most of us, even if we have no moral sense, at least 
 set a value on our neighbor s opinion. What he thinks of 
 us may be of no importance to the strong, but it is a staff and 
 bulwark to the weak. Burke used to wonder how George 
 stood it; why didn t he try to get away, to go home or any 
 where and begin over? Apparently the idea never entered 
 his head; he made himself exceedingly comfortable in the 
 quarters Burke hired for him, took a great interest in getting 
 his new clothes, linen, and shoes, and, being ignored by his 
 own class, began before long to make friends in other and 
 what we call lower circles, to whom he was very fluent on the 
 subject of his wrongs and sufferings. 
 
 Whether these gentry amongst whom there were num 
 bers of those dubious, needy, scheming broken-down people 
 of every calling under the sun who followed the army about 
 whether they believed George, or what they thought of 
 him, did not much matter; at any rate, he did not lack a 
 certain society, and perhaps a fellow-feeling created a bond 
 between them and him. Burke used to meet them hovering 
 about George s lodgings, eating and drinking with him at his 
 boarding-house table, seedy-looking little men with furtive 
 eyes, red-faced bouncing big men in frayed satin neckties, 
 glaring waistcoasts, and dirty linen, invariably titled "Judge" 
 or " Doctor"; who they were the captain never had a chance 
 to find out, for none of them displayed the slightest relish 
 for his company; they vanished incontinently at the most 
 remote glimpse of his grim, silent presence, and George him 
 self was not a person from whom one would expect very 
 accurate information about anybody. According to him 
 they were all the salt of the earth, " great, big-hearted fel 
 lows," inexplicably fallen upon evil days like himself, and 
 Burke thought it not worth while to inquire further. He 
 discovered, however, that there was one exception in this 
 congress of persecuted nobility, namely, Thomas Riley, late 
 Saint Patrick s Brigade, whose darkling countenance the cap 
 tain recognized one day in the neighborhood of the Calle de 
 Buena Muerte where George was established. 
 
 "Was that fellow around here? What did he want?" he 
 asked afterwards of George whom he found in a great state 
 of virtuous indignation. 
 
THE STREET OF THE GOOD DEATH 487 
 
 "Why, he came here to see me actually had the impu 
 dence to come here and ask for me just as if he was on an 
 equality! Said he was glad I got off, and liked to see me in 
 so much better health. Can you beat that for cheek? I 
 ordered him out of here pretty quick, I tell you!" 
 
 "Did he want money?" asked Nathan, doubting that 
 Mr. Riley was a person whom George could easily order 
 away; but the latter shook his head. 
 
 "Oh, no, he s got lots of money plunder, you know. 
 Why, that man must have hundreds thousands of dollars ! 
 He wouldn t divide catch him! No, he just came to see 
 me, the low blackguard!" 
 
 Burke was silent a moment. "Do you know Riley seemed 
 to me to be rather attached to you, George?" he said at last. 
 
 George smirked feebly. "Well, you know, Burke, I was 
 the only gentleman he d ever had anything to do with, and I 
 guess my manners, my my style, you know, kind of im 
 pressed him. Hang it all, blood will tell!" 
 
 Whether owing to his reception or not, this was the last of 
 Riley; I never saw nor heard of him again, so that he may be 
 living somewhere in a respected old age, or have long since 
 gone to the dark end he very likely deserved who knows? 
 George stayed on contentedly enough; even the arrival of 
 home letters full, I dare say, of fond, incoherent thanksgiv 
 ings, rhapsodies, queries, and entreaties, left him unmoved. 
 Burke saw him yawning over the pages closely written in 
 Mrs. Ducey s neat, flowing hand; he did not read them 
 through, and let most of them go unanswered for days and 
 weeks. "What would you have?" said Sharpless, with a 
 shrug, when Nat commented on this indifference. "If I were 
 in George s place, I d be pretty hard put to it, too, I believe, 
 for the proper, plausible thing to write. The job of explain 
 ing himself must be a little beyond George s abilities." 
 
 "He doesn t have to explain. Anything he did would be 
 right in his mother s eyes," Burke said. "That s the beauti 
 ful thing about mothers." 
 
 "I suppose so. And by the way, Nat, who s putting up 
 for all this? For George s board and clothes, I mean, if it s a 
 fair question?" 
 
 "Why, I am. It s all right. I wrote and explained to 
 Mr. Ducey no need to settle until we get back home." 
 
488 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 "Huh!" said Jim, thoughtfully, "do you keep him in 
 pocket-money, too?" 
 
 "Well, he s got to have a little something to spend, you 
 know," said Burke, argument atively, conscious of something 
 critical in the other s attitude. But Jim only ejaculated 
 "Huh!" a second time, and the subject was not again re 
 ferred to between them. 
 
 This sounds like a piece of magnificent generosity on Cap 
 tain Nat s part, but, to be frank, it was no such thing, the 
 provision he made for George being of the most frugal na 
 ture, and the accommodations, unlike his own, not at all 
 palatial, as the young gentleman speedily let him know. 
 During the whole time we were in Mexico City some eight 
 or ten weeks George lodged in a house itself respectable 
 enough, if poor and plain, but situated some distance towards 
 the southeastern part of town, in an old and more or less 
 disreputable quarter. It was convenient to Burke s eye, 
 and not far from our barracks, two good reasons for the 
 selection; although I fear the addition of a large body of 
 volunteer soldiery, newly paid, just off a hard campaign, 
 and quartered in a big city for the first time in months, did 
 not exactly raise the tone of the neighborhood. As usual, 
 all the old, regular, native gambling, drinking, and other dives 
 were running full head-on, and reenforced by a hundred new 
 ones; and the Street of the Good Death, which, Jim Sharp- 
 less suggested, might much more appropriately have been 
 named the Street of the Bad Life, had its share of all these 
 iniquities. It was a short street debouching on a little 
 plaza where there were a church and a gloomy huddle of 
 pawn-shops and pulquerias, and blank plastered stone houses 
 with archways through which one caught a glimpse of as 
 cending stairs, and patios dark with dreadful promise not a 
 place, in short, where one would choose to take a promenade 
 after dark; yet Captain Burke had formed a habit of cutting 
 across here to reach home at the close of a day s riding about 
 the outskirts of the city, and being armed and mounted, 
 never came to any harm thereby. It made it easy for him 
 to stop and have a word with George once or twice in the 
 week, a kind of duty about which I believe he was rather 
 punctilious. 
 
 He was riding thus one evening, when, entering the square 
 
THE STREET OF THE GOOD DEATH 489 
 
 and passing, as usual, along its upper side, the captain all 
 at once became aware that he was being followed and 
 watched. In those narrow, ill-lighted streets he had to 
 rein his horse to a walk, not being desirous of plunging head 
 long into some native family keeping house in the gutter 
 with their pots and brazier according to their custom, or of 
 stamping the life out of any Mexican dog, pig, or baby who 
 might be sprawling about the road; so that the spy easily 
 kept pace. In fact, his manoeuvres were so open that he 
 struck Burke as a remarkably frank or careless sort of bravo ; 
 but we had received more than one concrete and bloody 
 warning against treacherous attacks, and the captain made a 
 mental note of this fellow s appearance. He was an ordi 
 nary peon in the rusty sombrero, the red-and-black blanket 
 draped about his shoulders, the skin-tight soiled white cotton 
 pantaloons, the rope sandals they all wore; and when Burke 
 unexpectedly caught his eye, he first stood stock-still in 
 hesitancy or confusion, then turned and darted up a neigh 
 boring alley! "Come, this is a hew variety of melodrama," 
 Nat thought, grinning to himself, and went on slowly, look 
 ing for the gentleman to pop up again at some conveniently 
 dark corner. Nothing of the sort happened, however; and 
 the captain would certainly never have given the incident 
 another thought, but, two or three days later, sitting at his 
 desk in the office at the palace, there was shown in to him 
 in broad daylight, and with no mystery whatever, the very 
 same native! The people came constantly to us with com 
 plaints or petitions, and, judging from the nature of some of 
 these, I doubt if the city of Mexico had ever received so 
 just and stable a government as during its occupation by 
 the United States Army; but Burke imagined this case to 
 be something out of the ordinary. 
 
 " Ya he le visto," said he, briskly, not proposing to allow 
 any beating about the bush; "esta el hombre que me era 
 siguiendo la noche. Porque f Que quiere f " 
 
 The man, who had a rather dull but not at all vicious face, 
 answered humbly. Yes, he had been following the Seilor 
 Coronel, but he meant no harm, he would swear by the 
 Virgin of Guadalupe, he meant no harm. He was an honest 
 man. He wanted to look at the Sefior Coronel. 
 
 "To look at me?" repeated Burke, incredulously. 
 
490 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 Pero, si! He had been told to find a senor capitan Burke 
 but that must have been a mistake, for it was coronel and 
 not capitan at all who was a tall man with blue eyes. 
 And they called him as one might say, senor el Peleador 
 that is, as one might say, el gran guerrero he did not 
 know the English word 
 
 " Fighting Burke I know T ," said Nat, with impatience, 
 "well?" 
 
 Yes, that was it. He had been looking a long while; he 
 was a hard-working man, he worked all day, and so he had 
 to hunt for the senor in the evenings, when he went to and 
 from the shop, because he had no other time. He was a 
 tailor and worked in the Sastreria del Espiritu Santo, in the 
 street of that name. You could ask the patron about him 
 ask whether Pablo Suinaga was not an honest man. 
 
 "All right/ said Nat, "go ahead with it. What do you 
 want of me?" 
 
 "Senor," said Pablo Suinaga, respectfully, "the slow 
 carrier never spills the water. First of all I was to make 
 sure that you were the right man and that has been a little 
 hard, seeing that I cannot speak English, but I have it 
 written down " saying which he produced a dirty bit of 
 paper with "Captain Nathan Burke" scrawled upon it, and 
 spread it under the other s eyes ; he seemed to regard it as a 
 kind of talisman, for he drew back when Burke put out a 
 hand, plainly averse to his touching it. "Esta usted, verdad, 
 senor?" he asked earnestly. 
 
 "That is my name," said Burke, profoundly puzzled, "all 
 you had to do was to show it to somebody." 
 
 "Senor, con permiso, there is another Capitan Burke, and 
 I found him first, only he was dead!" This was true, that 
 officer having been killed, I think, at Molino del Rey; and 
 Pablo recited the tale of his search and disappointment, 
 and consequent loss of time with great feeling, notwithstand 
 ing the fact that it had nothing to do with the matter in 
 hand. But Burke had to resign himself; it always took any 
 one of them an inordinate time, with countless repetitions 
 and embellishments, to get to the core of his affair, whatever 
 that might be. Suinaga said that he lived in the Calle 
 Higuera "you know that street, senor, two or three times 
 you have ridden through it on your horse, it runs the same as 
 
THE STREET OF THE GOOD DEATH 491 
 
 Buena Muerte, only farther east. I have a wife and three 
 children, and we are honest people, Senor Coronel, but the 
 others in the house " he spread his hands and indulged in 
 an almost too expressive pantomime, "they are not honest, 
 por Diets, no ! All like that, the women worse than the men. 
 I have told my wife not to have anything to do with them, 
 but women ! Telling is no good, you have to take a stick to 
 them. Vaya, senor, you know how that is, without doubt! 
 One day, six eight months ago my wife told me, Pablo, 
 there is a new young woman on the top floor. I said, Well, 
 and if there is? Talvez es una ramera como las demas. Let 
 her alone. She said, But this one is white, and I think 
 she is Americanita. Says I, That doesn t keep her from 
 being a as I said. Calla, mujer ! I don t want to hear 
 any more about her! That was the end of it for a while; 
 but in two or three weeks she began again, Pablo, that girl is 
 sick. She coughs, coughs all the time, pobrecita ! Said I : 
 Sick, is she? She would be better dead, and burning in hell 
 for her sins. I tell you, let her alone. Hombre de Dios! 
 says she, is that a Christian way to talk? And after that, 
 senor, do what I would and say what I would, my wife went 
 to see her and cooked food and took it to her, and nursed her 
 like her own sister lo que son las mujer es /" 
 
 "Well?" said Burke, patiently. 
 
 "Well, senor, she began to be very much sicker after a 
 while, in spite of everything my wife did. She had fever, and 
 she coughed blood, and the clothes would be wet on her as 
 she lay in the bed wet like rain. That was in the summer 
 and she has got worse since; she cannot live. Everybody 
 in the house and in the whole street has been kind; we have 
 all gone and told her she was going to die, and offered to get 
 Padre Felipe, so that she can die with the Sacrament, but 
 she won t hear of it. I myself have told her over and over 
 again, but she only says she would get well if she could go 
 back to where she comes from; and that when the army 
 came, she would go back to your country, senor, for she is 
 Americanita, as my wife thought. She has always seemed to 
 be quite sure your army would come and that is another 
 sign she cannot live. They who are about to die see things 
 quien sabe f Mire, senor : when the fighting began, she heard 
 the cannon before anybody else, and said, They are coming ! 
 
492 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 Then after your soldiers came into the city, she asked me to 
 look for you, and she gave me that paper 
 
 " What s her name?" Burke interrupted him suddenly. 
 
 The man didn t know; he had never heard her called any 
 thing more than "Nina" or "Senorita, " the common form of 
 addressing women in that country, where a surname is the 
 last thing one needs. She had black eyes and hair, he said 
 ah! The Sen or Coronel knew her? 
 
 "I think so," said Burke. 
 
 Pablo Suinaga said he was very glad, and plainly meant it. 
 He had had a long hunt. It was some time before he found 
 out for a certainty that the other Burke was not the right 
 man, although the sick woman steadfastly refused to believe 
 it; and it was she herself, finally who, sitting propped up by a 
 window "she could not get her breath otherwise" had 
 caught sight of Burke as he rode past, and had screamed out 
 that that was the man. "Pues, senor, even after I fol 
 lowed you, and found out your name by questioning at that 
 house where you stopped, after all that, she wasn t certain 
 whether she wanted to see you, and was in twenty minds 
 about it from one hour to the next lo que son las mujeres!" 
 
 "She wants to see me now, though?" said Burke. 
 
 "Oh, yes, she says you will take her back to your country 
 and she cannot last another week!" 
 
 Burke went that night under Suinaga s guidance to the 
 house in the Calle Higuera, which was the sort of place to be 
 expected, running over with men, women, and children, full 
 of discordant outcry, foul sights, foul sounds, foul smells, 
 an Inferno of dirt and vice. The stage was set most suitably 
 for the closing act of the wretched drama, nor could any one 
 have asked (I suppose) a sharper moral lesson than that con 
 veyed by Nance Darnell s end; it would have satisfied even 
 Mrs. Ducey, or any other good and pure woman. Two or 
 three of the women and a tribe of children, seeing the blue 
 uniform and shoulder-straps in Suinaga s company, joined 
 and trailed after us along the grimy stairs and corridors, 
 curious and voluble in their high chittering Mexican voices. 
 Nat heard the youngsters quarrelling and insisting and asking 
 questions. "Is she dead? You said I could see her when 
 she was dead yes, you did, you did ! Oigd ! Antonio ! 
 
THE STREET OF THE GOOD DEATH 493 
 
 She s dead, and I m going to see her. Come along! " " You 
 lie she is not dead. Manuel has seen her, Manuel Gar- 
 fias. She lies on the bed with her eyes rolled up, and her 
 mouth open, but she s not dead. They have no candles at 
 her head and feet she s not dead yet, is she, Manuelito?" 
 " Tonto ! They would not have candles for her she is a 
 heretic all the Llankies are heretics, tio Juan told me so." 
 " She s dead, I tell you!" "She s not she goes this way 
 in her throat Grr-ugh! Grr-ugh agh!" "Who is the 
 senor in the blue coat? Ask him for a centavo all the 
 Americanos are rich their houses are made of gold." 
 "Senor, I am very poor, and sick and starving. For the love 
 of God give me a little something!" "To me, too, senor. 
 My mother is sick and my father is sick, and we have nothing 
 to eat !" They clung about his knees, whining. "I 
 will pay you all to go away," he said, sick at heart; "and 
 every one that stays away shall have double when I go, but 
 if he comes back in the meanwhile, nada!" The bargain 
 was soon struck, while the women looked on and laughed. 
 
 "You be off, too, all of you!" said the tailor, turning at the 
 threshold of one of the squalid dens they called rooms; he 
 seemed to have some misty idea of the decencies of the 
 moment, and was, perhaps, a man to be obeyed. "The 
 senor wants to see her by herself. Santa Maria, must I 
 speak twice, then? Salgan, ustedes, todas ! " 
 
 They scattered screeching and some of them giggling. 
 Burke went into the room and went up to the pallet-bed 
 which was huddled by the window the sashless and un- 
 glazed hole in the wall that served that purpose, that is. 
 There was a light burning and smoking near by; Nance lay 
 in the attitude he had heard one of the boys describe, asleep 
 or at least unconscious. She was so changed, he would 
 hardly have known her. He stood looking down at her. 
 We hear a great deal from poetry and romance about the 
 awful beauty and majesty of death; yet believe me, it is 
 only in books that the article and act of dying is any 
 way majestic or aught but pitiful. This body gives 
 up its hold with such dishonorable struggles, with such 
 slow and painful disfigurement, as the senses shrink to 
 witness; and if we would be plain with ourselves, we must 
 acknowledge that not all our creeds, nor the belief in heaven 
 
494 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 and immortality and choiring angels can gild the physical 
 hideousness of our end. So ghastly was Nance s aspect that 
 the young man thought for an instant the end had really 
 come; but she roused at his exclamation, and opened her 
 eyes, which looked very large and brilliant, and fixed them 
 on him. 
 
 "Nance, do you know me?" he asked, for, in spite of the 
 brightness of her look, there was something singularly blank 
 and distant in it. 
 
 She made a fluttering movement with her right hand which 
 Burke recognized as an effort to put it out; and said in a 
 voice which to his surprise sounded quite strong and natural : 
 " Of course I know ye, Nat. I reckoned you d come. Won t 
 ye set? Set down here by th bed." 
 
 Burke obeyed dumbly, and took her clammy cold hand in 
 his; he was a good deal moved, but Nance herself not at 
 all, apparently; she lay and looked at him without emotion 
 in that calm of defeat which death seems to allow alike to 
 saints and sinners, accompanying the most ominous features 
 of illness with a merciful blunting of the understanding. 
 " Lord, let me know mine end, and of my days the number 
 but did any man ever make that prayer in earnest, or realize 
 that dissolution was upon him? That Nance did not was 
 made clear almost by the first words she uttered. 
 
 "I been right poorly, Nathan, but I m feeling a little mite 
 better this last week. I guess I ll be up pretty soon now. 
 I look kinder peaked, don t I?" 
 
 "Yes, you you show you ve been sick," Burke said. 
 
 "I didn t low I d ever bother you agin, Nat, but then I 
 wasn t lookin out for bein sick, y know. Person feels 
 diff rent bout a thing like that when they re sick, somehow. 
 Seemed, as long as th army was right here, V you was here, 
 twouldn t do no harm for to let you know, anyways. Tell 
 ye, Nathan, I was pretty nigh crazy to see a white man, let 
 alone you. Th people a been reel kind, but shucks! 
 they re Mexicans you know what they are. They mean 
 well, but for a while here they had me plumb scairt, talkin 
 bout dyin . That was before I begun to git better, y 
 know. I jest c ldn t stand it I had to send for you." 
 
 She could get through this explanation only by pausing 
 many times with painful gasps and chokings, her voice lessen- 
 
THE STREET OF THE GOOD DEATH 495 
 
 ing to a mere thread of a whisper at the end; Burke began 
 some words meant to assure her that he wanted nothing so 
 much as to help her whenever he could, but she went on 
 without, apparently, hearing him: "They even come in n 
 told me you was dead stood me down you was dead, when 
 I jest knew you wasn t! That shows how much they know 
 pore critters!" 
 
 "Haven t you had any doctor?" 
 
 "Oh, law, yes. A doctor V a priest, too. They re jest 
 th same as th rest, they ain t got any sense, any of em. 
 F I could git out o here, I d git well a heap quicker. Why, 
 I don t feel a bit bad. It s only I m so tired." 
 
 "Well, I m going to get you out of here, quick as I can, 
 Nance," said Burke, cheerfully. "It s a good thing you sent 
 for me best thing you could have done." 
 
 "Yes, I lowed you d take me away. It ll cost somethin 
 of course, but Pap ll pay ye. People most injinerally don t 
 b leeve it, but Pap s mighty pertickler bout owin anybody 
 money you know how Pap is," she said with no change 
 of expression, and in a manner so reasonable as to render 
 her words all the more startling. But the next moment she 
 seemed to come to herself. "Was I talkin bout Pap, Na 
 than? Ain t that funny? I git to thinkin bout him, n 
 first you know, I fergit he s dead." 
 
 Whether it was the change, the fresh air and greater 
 comforts Burke was able to give her, or whether these ex 
 tremes of weakness and revival are familiar features of her 
 disease our doctors themselves seemed to be of divided 
 opinion Nance did actually improve a little during the 
 next few w r eeks. There never was the slightest hope for her; 
 but even this brief reprieve and respite was grateful, and the 
 poor thing herself talked on of getting well and going home 
 with a heart-rending confidence. Would any one, would 
 Burke, her only friend, have had her recover? I do not 
 know. In her moments of suffering, the young man found 
 himself with horror pausing on the thought, Lord God Al 
 mighty, let her live or let her die, but one way or the other, 
 let the torment be ended, for flesh and blood cannot longer 
 endure this spectacle! And I will say this, that no man or 
 woman has ever seen a like hopeless decline even of the one 
 
496 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 nearest and dearest without, consciously or not, the same 
 prayer. 
 
 Burke used to visit her every day or so, thereby provid 
 ing additional color and body, I dare say, to those reports 
 which George Ducey had been so forward to circulate. If 
 Nance ever thought of that passage in her career, she did not 
 mention it; she never spoke about her recent life at all, 
 except the months of her illness; it all seemed to have slipped 
 away from her like a foul garment. What would going home 
 have meant to her, in health? Yet she dwelt on it, or at 
 least used that form of words constantly, without, however, 
 asking after anybody, or naming any place. She was very 
 much like other invalids, talking to Nat when he sat with 
 her about her appetite, the food, the doctor, the nurse, her 
 improvement since yesterday what would you have? It 
 is only in works of fiction, as I have said, that the death-bed 
 is poetical or dramatic; and I think now that poor Nance s 
 last days were not less sad for being so commonplace. Her 
 mind was at no time absolutely clear, being liable to lapses 
 such as we have seen; but towards the end she wandered a 
 great deal more, calling out and naming people who were 
 strange to Burke, often with a distressing earnestness, and 
 talking to herself with feeble gestures. She died in Novem 
 ber, the week before we started for home. 
 
CHAPTER XIII 
 
 ARMS YIELD TO THE TOGA 
 
 AND now Johnny was to go marching home, with his 
 honors and his scars, with his limp and his hanging sleeve, 
 with the goggle-eyed stone idol he dug up with his bayonet 
 out of the crumbling side of Cholula Pyramid, with the 
 Mexican cavalry officer s sash and sabre, and the silver 
 crucifix he bought in Thieves Market down by the Zocalo 
 of a Sunday morning. " Think they ll look kinder pretty 
 fixed up over th chimbly-piece sort of a mee-mento," 
 says Johnny sentimentally, not yet aware, honest lad, that 
 a cruel stab of pain whenever it threatens rain will supply 
 him with a much more forcible mee-mento for the rest of 
 his life. He thinks with what longing! of the cabin 
 and the corn-patch, the cross-roads schoolhouse, the swim 
 ming-hole "It s a terrible pity bout Lem Stiles! Never 
 think of goin in swimmin thout jest nachally lookin fer Lem 
 to be there. An my lordy, th times we ve snaked melons 
 out n old Pete Baker s patch! Lem he got shot, y know, 
 back to Cerro Gordo, last spring terrible pity!" he sighs 
 retrospectively to some other Johnny who, calling up his own 
 home-picture of prairie-land, mountains, sea-beaten coast, 
 or palmetto-swamp, and some Lem Stiles of his acquaintance, 
 nods in sympathy. Yes, it s a pity, but war is w r ar; it is all 
 over now; and we have done our duty, no matter if the 
 generals do wrangle and contradict, and the newspapers 
 find fault; we have played, if not a hero s part, at least a 
 man s. Let us go home and kiss Jennie and the babies, who 
 won t be caring a penny whether we are heroes or not, so 
 we are safe and whole! 
 
 There was, however, one man who, all signs to the con 
 trary notwithstanding, was firmly convinced that the con 
 flict was not yet ended, that it would only end when our 
 government should have acquired undisputed sway through 
 out the Republic of Mexico, and seen the wisdom of incor- 
 2K 497 
 
498 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 porating that territory with the United States. Burke s 
 general used to go over these theses by the hour with much 
 coruscating and explosive rhetoric, and a terrific amount of 
 letter- writing; and, in order to further these mighty events, 
 the first step, it appeared, was to apply to the general-in- 
 chief for the command of a full division, "in consonance with 
 my rank as major-general," said Quitman, formally pointing 
 out that he had waived this right at Puebla "when the 
 exigencies of the public service were imperative." General 
 Scott replied simply that he didn t consider himself able to 
 make any such arrangement; whereupon it became neces 
 sary for Burke s general to apply in person to the secretary 
 of war at Washington. "And while there, Burke, I shall not 
 fail to call N Mr. Marcy s attention if I go no higher than 
 him Quitman informed his aide impressively- "to 
 the inaccuracy of the reports describing the taking of Mexico 
 City, and my division s part in the actions. It s no secret 
 everybody in this division, everybody in the whole army, 
 knows it we have not received our due. There ought 
 not to be any doubt in the public mind the American 
 public, every man, woman, and child in the United States, 
 should know that we were foremost in the attack on the 
 fortress, and first at the city gates. It s only our just due. 
 Great God, is a man like you to be passed over with a mere 
 word, Captain now Colonel Burke displayed great 
 coolness and daring! Is that all they ve got to say? They 
 could say that much for every single man, every last private 
 among my gallant fellows. No, they haven t done us 
 justice. And as to my recklessness as to my needlessly 
 sacrificing my men at the Belen Garita it s a monstrous 
 falsehood. The lives of my men are as dear to me as my own. 
 I never received one order from General Scott to advance 
 by the other road never! At least, none that I can re 
 member. He never sent me any word about it nothing 
 that I could possibly regard as authoritative, anyhow. It s 
 accusing me of insubordination / insubordinate and 
 reckless! They little know John Quitman. No, we ve 
 been misrepresented, Burke, perhaps not intentionally so> 
 but still misrepresented. At best, newspaper reports are 
 seldom strictly true I m not reflecting on your friend Mr. 
 Sharpless, of course," added the general hastily, afraid that 
 
ARMS YIELD TO THE TOGA 499 
 
 he had hurt the other s feelings; "he is one of a few who are 
 at once brilliant and absolutely reliable. A talented man, 
 sir, and what is more a man of heart, a man for whom I 
 have the greatest respect." 
 
 General Quitman with upwards of fifty officers from his 
 division, most of whom like Burke and unlike the general 
 himself were definitely resigning their commissions, left the 
 city of Mexico about the middle of November, receiving 
 such magnificent formalities of farewell as delighted the 
 general s soul and abjectly dismayed his late secretary, who 
 was no hand at all at speech-making, and never knew which 
 way to look while the compliments were passing. The 
 municipal authorities called in a body to manifest their 
 respect and good-will; the commander-in-chief dined us 
 elaborately. Colonel Burnett of the New York regiment 
 addressed to the general a farewell oration that brought 
 tears to Quitman s eyes; the feelings he expressed said 
 the colonel were those of the entire division towards one 
 who was to them at once general, father, and friend "your 
 fame was known to us before our association as officers, and 
 its lustre has brightened as the sun from morn to noon. . . . 
 We have seen you at Chapuitepec as cool as when we meet 
 you now in friendship. . . . Not a muscle moved in that 
 stern and manly face but to smile when the colors of your 
 division and our beloved country were thrown to the free 
 winds above the conquered castle!" recited Colonel Burnett 
 amid prodigious applause. Indeed, what he said was true, 
 and there was not one of us but felt a great love and admira 
 tion for our commander, so brave, so boyish, so high-souled. 
 He replied with a great deal of feeling and spirit, referring 
 regretfully to the fact that he was now about to separate 
 from those gallant officers and men with whom he had been 
 so honorably associated "but I regard it as the soldier s 
 part to seek the path where duty calls me!" says our general 
 in a thrilled and trembling voice, honestly convinced that 
 duty called him to go and bedevil the authorities into giving 
 him a commission in the regular army! We cheered him to 
 the echo; and then somebody got up it was Captain 
 Hutton, also of the New York volunteers and "presented 
 Colonel Nathan Burke with an elegant pair of silver spurs, 
 accompanying the gift with a brief but extremely apropos 
 
500 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 speech. Colonel Burke made an appropriate reply!" 
 Heavens and earth, I can see Jimmie now, scrawling the 
 above note for his newspaper, grinning and underscoring 
 "brief but extremely apropos!" The fact is, both gentlemen 
 were embarrassed almost to the point of speechlessness, and 
 nothing but the kind applause of the rest relieved the situa 
 tion. 
 
 We reached New Orleans a day or so before Thanksgiving, 
 where we got, literally, a roaring reception, salvos of cannon 
 going off in the Place d Armes and Lafayette Square fit to 
 deafen the populace; more oratory more enthusiasm 
 crowds of bewilderingly pretty women the American 
 Theatre jammed to the roof that night, and everybody 
 standing up when our general entered to "See, the conquer 
 ing hero comes!" on a very vigorous brass band. All of 
 which we were once more regretfully obliged to part from, 
 as we took boat up the river next day, amid tremendous 
 hurrahing from the mob assembled on the levees. Who 
 wouldn t be Johnny when he comes marching home? There 
 were a number of civilians trailing humbly in our company, 
 among them Mr. James Sharpless, and our friend, the ex- 
 lieutenant of Ohio volunteers, George Ducey, Esquire, a 
 bracketing together of their names which would have pleased 
 neither one. "What do you want to carry him around on 
 cotton for, Nat?" growled the former; "damn it, let him 
 herd along with the discharged men on one of the transports 
 it would be enough too good for the fellow. What are 
 you going to do with him? You can t have him around 
 nobody ll speak to him. If he had the spirit of a louse he d 
 keep out of it himself. You take as much care of him as 
 if he were actually worth something 
 
 "He is, to his mother," said Burke. % 
 
 "Why, of course, but let his mother look out for him, then. 
 You re not responsible for George Dueey it s quixotic. 
 He s stolen from you and lied about you, and he ll keep on 
 stealing from you and lying about you. Does that fellow know 
 what gratitude or justice or humanity means? He s never 
 done a thing in his life that won t be remembered to his ever 
 lasting discredit. When you get home, you re going to find 
 out what you have to thank George for," cried out Jim, 
 excitedly. 
 
ARMS YIELD TO THE TOGA 501 
 
 "What difference does all that make?" asked the other. 
 "I know as well as you what George is. Do you suppose 
 I m looking after him because I m in hopes he ll turn over 
 a new leaf reform and become a worthy member of so 
 ciety? He d never do that in a thousand years. I m not 
 doing it for George s sake I m doing it for my own. 
 Would you have had me let him hang? Or, after we got 
 him off from that, should I have let him starve?" 
 
 "You might let him work now, anyhow," said Sharpless 
 with a half-laugh ; "that would be at least a novelty." Yet 
 he perhaps felt himself answered, and offered no more objec 
 tions. He looked at his friend affectionately, whimsically. 
 "Oh, go your way, Nat Burke. To the end of your days 
 you will be shouldering somebody s burdens, and somebody 
 will be imposing on you." So this fiery discussion con 
 cluded, the two friends smoking in perfect amity with their 
 heels cocked up on the guards of the Mississippi steamboat. 
 
 Oh, those old Mississippi river boats! I swear when I 
 remember them, the fleets of Solomon, the galleys of Cleo 
 patra, the state barge of Venice all the glorious argosies 
 of history pale and dwindle. We voyaged, surrounded by 
 mirrors, gilding, veneering, plush, and panels; we ate and 
 drank whatever was best or richest in the country; the 
 captain was an elegant creature in a dress-coat who, when 
 the hour arrived, came and took the oldest or most impor 
 tant of the ladies by the hand, and led her to the dinner- 
 table and placed her there with French graces. A horde of 
 negro boys in white jackets waited on us; it took half a 
 dozen of them to do one man s work, but what of that? 
 They were the most idle, good-natured, untrustworthy, 
 amiable rascals on earth, and they brought us the most 
 Olympian mint-juleps that ever mortal tasted, and blacked 
 our boots to the utter perfection. In the evenings the piano 
 went gayly in the grand saloon; white organdies and laces 
 spread like drifts of snow on the guards; poker and seven-up 
 flourished on the lower decks. Who could have counted the 
 pretty girls, darky roustabouts, bowie-knives, duelling 
 pistols, packs of cards, and flasks of Bourbon on one boat 
 ascending or descending that murky tide? They were as 
 the sands of the seashore in number. Sometimes one had 
 as much as three weeks of these unalloyed delights on the 
 
502 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 way up-stream from New Orleans to Cincinnati. Talk of 
 your Rhine or your Nile after that, if you have the face! 
 I have seen the Lorelei, and I may yet see the Pyramids, but 
 I am sure neither one of them could give me such a thrill 
 as overtaking the General Jackson, full steam up, and rumbling 
 like a volcano, everybody crowding to the rails, cursing, 
 screaming, betting, and passing her victoriously "just 
 as if she were standing still, begad, sir!" Not infrequently 
 the winner s boiler "let go," in the classic phrase, shortly 
 after one of these trials of speed, and Bludsoe s ghost went up 
 alone in the smoke of the Prairie Belle. There was always 
 the chance. Can you match that on the Rhine? 
 
 It is easy to see that with such a diversity of company 
 and entertainment even George Ducey might find his level ; 
 and he did, somewhere or somehow, being entirely ignored 
 by Quitman, his staff, and the other army men who happened 
 to be passengers on our boat. Burke, having seen that 
 George was comfortable, conceived that he himself had done 
 all that duty required, and left the young man more or less 
 to his own devices. I think the latter was quite satisfied 
 with the arrangement; he heartily disliked his protector, 
 as was natural. I don t know how he passed his time, but 
 very likely he made more friends than Burke himself, who 
 was too much occupied with thoughts of home. He had 
 heard from Mary at last; the letter came just before we left 
 the City, a flatteringly affectionate letter full of proud talk 
 about her "hero." Nat used to get it out and read it over 
 and ponder its pretty sentences in alternate fits of hope and 
 confidence, and of deadly misgivings. He raged at his own 
 distrust, he despised his jealousy, yet could not banish it. 
 He would have given worlds to open his heart to Jim but 
 how could he? Noblesse oblige! and deep within him, Burke 
 knew that even if they could bring themselves to talk about 
 her, the brother would evade his questions. "Nobody is 
 ever frank with you about a thing like that. They only tell 
 you what they see you want to hear," said Nat to himself, 
 rather bitterly. I dare say Colonel Burke was a dull, grumpy 
 companion these days, for all his military titles and distinc 
 tions; indeed, army celebrities were a drug in the market with 
 us, and any brisk youth with a turn for cards and throwing 
 dice was much more popular. As Nathan was lounging one 
 
ARMS YIELD TO THE TOGA 503 
 
 afternoon on the guards with his chair tilted back, while he 
 surveyed the low, hot, melancholy landscape sliding by (a 
 sort of gloomy pastime which he rather affected at this time), 
 two men sauntered up, took a turn along the decks in front 
 of him, and finally came to a halt against the rail a few feet 
 away. Nat looked up absently, but neither noticed him; 
 they went on talking without lowering their voices. "Yep, 
 you want to look out, son," said the elder, who had gray hair 
 and looked like a planter in a small way, well-to-do, but not 
 rich; he addressed the other in good-natured warning. 
 "Take my advice, and don t get mixed up in any card game 
 on these boats. They re chock-full of sharks and swindlers, 
 and they ll do you every time. I don t want to run you, you 
 understand; I m just telling you because you look to me like 
 a young fellow that ain t had much experience, huh ?" 
 
 "Oh, I dunno. I ve been around some," said the other, 
 apparently a little nettled at this patronage; he was a very 
 young man. "This is my second trip. First time was with 
 Dad, though. I guess I ve got my eye-teeth cut, or the old 
 man wouldn t have let me go off by myself. I m going to 
 buy hogs got to go up to Kentucky. I reckon I ll get off 
 at Paducah." 
 
 "Yes, I know. You hadn t ought to go showing your 
 money around like I saw you last night, either," said the 
 other, shaking his head reprovingly; "you ll get in trouble 
 first thing you know. These card gamblers, minute they 
 see a man has a little money, they lay for him ain t that 
 so, Mister?" he appealed to Nathan confidently. 
 
 "Shouldn t wonder. I ve been told so," assented Burke, 
 amiably. 
 
 "There, you see," said the mentor, turning to his young 
 friend triumphantly; "this gentleman says so, too, and he 
 looks to be a man that would know. Can t fool you much, 
 I guess," said he to Burke, knowingly. "Why, what d ye 
 think? Yesterday there was a fellow come up to me in the 
 bar, and we got to talking like a person does, you know, and 
 presently he says : Say, I bet I know a card trick you can t 
 beat. All right/ says I, less see it. Well, he got out 
 his cards, but he only took three, and say, you got a deck, 
 Major? I could show you the trick a heap quicker n I 
 can explain it." 
 
504 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 " Don t believe I have not in these clothes, anyhow," 
 said Nathan. 
 
 " Pshaw, is that so? Here, wait a minute, I got some cards 
 in my stateroom 
 
 "Hold on," interrupted the younger man; "I ve got a 
 deck," and he brought out an exceedingly dirty and greasy 
 collection, and moved up a chair. " Don t know that the 
 whole fifty-two are here, but you said you only wanted 
 three, didn t you?" he inquired with a charming ingenu 
 ousness. 
 
 "Three s enough. Gimme the Queen of Spades for one, 
 will you? I reckon I ll be kind of awkward at it, but I can 
 show you something the way he did it. He took and threw 
 the cards around, backs up, kind of careless like, y know, and 
 then says to me: Now you pick the baby, and I - 
 
 "The baby s the Queen of Spades?" inquired Nat, begin 
 ning to show an innocent interest. 
 
 "Yes. Just like this, y know, he threw em around. 
 There, I did it better that time. Can you pick her?" 
 
 "Huh, that s easy enough!" said the boy, with contempt. 
 "I saw her plain when you flipped her down. It s the 
 middle one." He stretched out his hand and turned over 
 the card which proved to be "the baby" sure enough. 
 
 "You got me that time," said the other, and laughed. 
 "The way the fellow did it twasn t so easy, though. Bet 
 you can t pick her now." 
 
 "Bet you fifty cents I can!" 
 
 "Aw, fifty cents!" 
 
 "Well, bet you five dollars then!" said the boy, defiantly, 
 and got the money out and flung it down on the seat of the 
 chair. "It s the card over farthest to the left my left, 
 I mean." 
 
 "All right, I ll just take that bet," said the instructor. 
 "Which do you say it is, Cap? D ye agree with him?" 
 
 Nathan brought the front legs of his chair down hard; 
 he studied the cards with a knotted brow; he considered 
 deeply, rubbing his chin, while the others eyed him. At 
 last, "I give it up!" he announced with a mild sigh. 
 
 The left-hand one, on being exposed, was the Queen of 
 Spades again. "Pretty easy money!" said the younger 
 man, gathering in his winnings with a triumphant chuckle. 
 "You d ought to have bet my way, Mister." 
 
ARMS YIELD TO THE TOGA 505 
 
 "You can t do it three times hand-running," retorted the 
 planter. 
 
 " Can t, hey? I d like to know why not. It s as easy as 
 easy. All you got to do is keep your eye peeled." 
 
 And, amazing to relate, he did win a third time and 
 then lost and then won again twice, at gradually increas 
 ing stakes, while Burke looked on admiringly. "You ve 
 got pretty good luck guessing," he remarked. 
 
 "Take a try yourself, Colonel," said the youth. Tain t 
 much of a card trick, far as I can see. Take a try." 
 
 "I ve got a kind of superstition about cards," said Burke, 
 sadly; "never hold any hands, or have any luck." 
 
 "I ain t having much myself with these cards," said the 
 planter, rising and was it fancy, or did the two exchange 
 a fleeting glance? "They re too durned old and sticky - 
 I can t handle em. Wait till I get that pack out of my 
 cabin." 
 
 As he went off, the boy leaned forward, with his face 
 close to Burke s and whispered: "Say, Mister, on the dead 
 level, tain t luck. I ve got the baby card marked with a 
 little picked-up place in the middle of the back you can 
 see it easy if you squint a little sideways so the light strikes it. 
 I done it with a pin under my nail when he wasn t looking. 
 Say, you bet on it every time, and we ll clean him out. Or 
 just once for fun, y know just bet him once, hey?" 
 
 "Oh, I guess I don t want to take advantage of an honest 
 old fellow like him," said the colonel, grinning. 
 
 The other drew back, scrutinizing Burke narrowly. He 
 hesitated, then burst into a short laugh, got up, thrusting 
 the cards into his pocket, and walked off. He was a big, 
 powerfully built young fellow, not more than nineteen or 
 twenty years old, with hardly a line in his heavy, sallow 
 face a promising rogue. Burke saw him joined by the 
 other scoundrel a little farther along, and they strolled off 
 together in search of easier victims, probably. On inquiry 
 Nat discovered that the gray-headed man went by the name 
 of "Canada Charlie" and was a well-known character on 
 the river. "They say he s been known to clean up ten or 
 fifteen thousand dollars on one trip," said Sharpless, who, 
 on hearing of this adventure, immediately busied himself to 
 collect further information. Jim was always at heart much 
 more the journalist than the man of letters; men and women, 
 
506 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 good and bad, high and low everything interested him. 
 He loved his trade of telling one-half the world how the other 
 half lives, and brought to the practice of it, humor, sym 
 pathy, understanding, a great knack of enlisting confidence. 
 He even had some little talk with Canada Charlie himself. 
 "I spoke about his experience with you, Nat, and the old 
 rascal grinned, but all he would say was: Yep, you can t 
 skin an honest man I ve noticed it often. " 
 
 "That was a pretty open speech for such a man to make," 
 said Burke, surprised. "I can t see anything particularly 
 honest about it, anyhow. It s just that this something-for- 
 nothing-and-beat-the-other-fellow business always has struck 
 me as all damn nonsense. You can t get anything without 
 paying for it, and you don t want to when all s said you d 
 rather pay." 
 
 "Mr. Canada Charlie s profession is evidently based on 
 the opposite theory, and I suppose his experience points that 
 way, too." said Jim. " Naturally he wasn t very expansive 
 about himself. I asked him if he generally travelled with a 
 friend. He said sometimes, not always; he intimated that 
 a partnership was convenient, but had its drawbacks like 
 dividing up the haul, I dare say, though he wasn t explicit. 
 He picked the young man up in New Orleans, and says he s 
 a smart boy. Hope they won t get hold of George, Nathan." 
 
 "Oh, George is safe he hasn t got any money," said 
 Burke with a laugh. 
 
 Quitman s home was in Natchez, Mississippi, and on our 
 arrival there, the general "was received with every demon 
 stration of honor. He was saluted with cannon captured at 
 Alvarado, and afterwards escorted into the city by a civic 
 and military procession, and WM. T. MARTIN, ESQ., in a 
 strain of impassioned oratory, welcomed the hero home. ..." 
 All of which you may find in the issue of the Natchez Sentinel 
 for the following day, and I can personally testify to the 
 accuracy of the account. The "cannon captured at Alva 
 rado" were going at intervals all day with a stunning uproar 
 - which, in view of the fact that at this "capture" nobody 
 on either side had fired a single shot, seemed to Burke a 
 little inappropriate. The streets were packed, the applause 
 deafening. A parade led by a brass band, a delegation from 
 
ARMS YIELD TO THE TOGA 507 
 
 the Masonic fraternity, another of survivors from the battle 
 of New Orleans, another of invited celebrities, the bench and 
 bar of the city in a body, the mayor and council and all the 
 prominent citizens, marched out to General Quitman s beau 
 tiful home a mile or so from town, and welcomed us in state. 
 WM. T. MARTIN, ESQ., who was a long, lank young man 
 with a richly rolling voice, fiery black eyes, and a great 
 mane of black, shining hair which he tossed back and shook 
 back and combed back from his face with dramatic move 
 ments, WM. T., I say, fairly submerged us with his impas 
 sioned oratory. "How wonderful!" says he putting his 
 hair back with one dash of his left hand, while he thrust the 
 right into the breast of his black frock-coat "how won 
 derful is it that this very city, bearing the name of a noble 
 fragment of the Aztec race, who, driven from Mexico by 
 the sword of the Montezumas or of Cortez, found shelter 
 on this bluff, where their proud name is still preserved 
 how wonderful is it that from their ashes should have ap 
 peared an avenger of their wrongs, and that our Quitman 
 (frantic applause) from fair Natchez (more applause) was 
 the instrument in the hands of Providence to spoil the 
 spoiler. " ; He might well call it wonderful; to him alone 
 belongs the glory of discovering this important historical 
 fact, and we all listened in respectful astonishment. " I 
 do not attempt to quote his burning language," said the 
 Sentinel next day; nor shall I. Burke s general rejoined in 
 a manner that became him well, giving and taking credit 
 where it was due, and thanking everybody in a very manly 
 style, if it might have been more simple. "I will not re 
 peat what, no doubt, ere this, you have been wearied of 
 reading he said and then, like many another orator, 
 before and since, went to work and repeated it! 
 
 "Shall I tell you how this devoted band of less than half 
 a score thousand men, penetrated into the Mexican Valley 
 through a line of all but impregnable batteries, thrice and 
 again defeated an enemy of four times their numbers, took 
 guns by the hundred and prisoners by the thousand (applause) , 
 and raised the starry banner of Columbia (cheers) over that 
 citadel where, since the entry of the Spaniard, no alien flag 
 had ever waved? No, my friends, I shall not dwell upon 
 these deeds, but one egotism I shall commit I was amongst 
 
508 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 the foremost to cross the barricades of the city, after a de 
 termined resistance, and it was my happy fate that, at my 
 personal command, the Stars and Stripes were first flung to 
 the wind of Mexico above the palace (tremendous applause) . 
 And now when shall we gather the fruits of our conquest? 
 I speak out boldly as I spoke when the Texas question came 
 up. I say, KEEP this country (wild applause) ! It is its fate. 
 It is our fate. We cannot shirk this responsibility!" 
 
 And, after a good deal more in the same heroic vein, amid 
 frequent outbursts of hurrahing, the general at last sat 
 down. I think he had one eye on the presidency at this 
 time it would have been difficult to name a general in our 
 army who did not once in a while look in that direction; 
 but, if ever there was an honest man, it was Quitman, and 
 if he was talking for effect, it is my solemn belief he didn t 
 know it. 
 
 In the evening we had a banquet where all the notables 
 in the place, that is, about three-fifths of the whole male 
 population the rest were colored sat down, and there 
 was a great deal of good eating and ditto drinking. Toasts 
 were called by WM. T. MARTIN and responded to, 
 and there were interludes of music. The Sentinel has it all: 
 " The President of the United States. Music: Hail 
 
 Columbia. 
 " General John A. Quitman, "Second to None! " Music: 
 
 Hail to the Chief. 
 
 " The Memory of Washington. Music: The Dead March 
 in Saul." 
 
 And so on, through General Taylor and General Scott, 
 the Army, the Navy, the Heroes of the Revolution never 
 since have I sat through so exhaustive a list. We actually 
 even sifted down to The Hardy Sons of Ohio and Colonel 
 Nathan Burke (Music : Pop goes the Weasel) ! Alas, when he 
 arose, the unfortunate colonel could not get out a word, 
 and but for the presence of mind of WM. T. MARTIN, ESQ., 
 nobody knows what might have happened. For that gentle 
 man, taking pity on him after a few moments of Burke s 
 stammering and stuttering, rose up, and remarking gracefully 
 that the situation and the honorable confusion of the chief 
 actor reminded him strongly of an incident in the life of the 
 
ARMS YIELD TO THE TOGA 509 
 
 great Father of his Country (prolonged applause) when under 
 very similar circumstances he received the thanks of the 
 Virginia Assembly, added: "Sir, I will say to you in the 
 words of the Speaker on that occasion : l Sit down, Colonel, 
 sit down! Your modesty is equal to your valor, and I can 
 say nothing in higher praise of either!" Whereupon, to 
 an accompaniment of cheers, Colonel Burke did most gladly 
 and thankfully sit down, and I have no doubt everybody 
 else was as much relieved as himself. 
 
 But now, the Press of America being toasted, up got 
 Mr. James Sharpless, Major Sharpless, as he appeared in 
 the papers next day, put his thick black hair back from 
 his brow with one hand, stuck the other into the front of his 
 frock-coat, and began. He said but what didn t he say? 
 He quoted history, he quoted poetry, he quoted the Bible 
 and Shakespeare the eagle screamed and soared, the 
 starry banner waved, the cannon thundered throughout his 
 speech. WM. T. MARTIN was nowhere beside him, a mere 
 squib in the glare of Jim s rockets and red fire. The chiv 
 alry of the South, the principles of Democracy, the glorious 
 institutions of Freedom I don t think he neglected one of the 
 well-worn topics or phrases. And such was the enthusiasm 
 he aroused, that when, after winding up with a fervid 
 eulogium of Mississippi, Natchez, and the present meeting, 
 - where, he said, he had heard such oratory as it had never 
 been his fortune to hear before, he resumed his seat, he 
 had to get up twice in response to the applause; and sat down 
 again, with an almost imperceptible wink at Burke as he 
 emptied his glass of whiskey and water. 
 
 General Quitman and some others of the older company 
 left, I think, shortly after this. But, to tell the truth, 
 neither Colonel Burke nor Mr. Sharpless, nor I have a 
 strong suspicion most of the rest of us, ever had but a very 
 hazy idea of the subsequent proceedings. And, waking up 
 late with a raging headache the next morning, the colonel 
 found himself the owner of a coat several sizes too small for 
 him, and a brand-new gold-headed cane the like of which he 
 was not in the habit of carrying; and received, in the course 
 of the day, two invitations to dine, and twenty-five dollars 
 in payment of a bet from gentlemen whom he did not remem 
 ber ever to have seen or heard of before in his whole life! 
 
CHAPTER XIV 
 IN WHICH COLONEL BURKE GETS HIS DISCHARGE 
 
 BURKE parted from his late commander at Natchez with 
 a regret which I believe the general shared. He was quite 
 sure of his brevet from Washington, sanguine, visionary, and 
 enthusiastic as a boy, full of plans for the new conquest of 
 Mexico in which he was very anxious for his ex-aide to take 
 part. Raise a regiment, Burke, you could easily raise a 
 regiment, a man of your prominence at home in your own 
 State, and abroad hundreds would flock to your standard ! 
 I have no doubt, for that matter although this is, I need 
 hardly tell you, in the strictest confidence I have no 
 doubt that, by bringing a little judicious pressure to bear 
 upon the right parties " Quitman explained with a fearfully 
 diplomatic look " by the aid of a little influence, you could 
 get a brigade. We shall need, on a careful calculation, fifty 
 thousand men, with which we ought to overrun the whole 
 country, garrison every State capital, and take every con 
 siderable city. ..." Burke had to decline this opportunity 
 to the other s real if only momentary disappointment. 
 But they shook hands heartily and said their good-bys with 
 not a little feeling on both sides; and the next Nat heard, 
 the general had given up all idea of war and conquest, beaten 
 his sword into a ploughshare, and settled down to the pursuit 
 of law, and intermittently politics in "fair Natchez" 
 where he never ceased to be popular and beloved. He had 
 a stormy time of it afterwards for those were stormy days 
 as governor of the State, and member of Congress; Burke 
 used to read his speeches, his protests, his "open letters" 
 in the papers, and smile over their characteristic ardor, 
 and the well-remembered periods. The last time I saw him 
 was in Washington about a year before the War, when he 
 looked badly and talked in a rather bitter and gloomy strain 
 about the ingratitude of republics never having got any 
 
 510 
 
COLONEL BURKE GETS HIS DISCHARGE 511 
 
 nearer the highest awards than an unsuccessful candidacy 
 for the vice-presidential nomination! But he brightened 
 presently, and spoke with all his old warmth of a meeting of 
 the veterans of his old Palmetto Regiment ("my gallant 
 South Carolinians") which he had been invited to visit 
 and address; he was even then a very sick man and died 
 only a few months later. 
 
 Our young men now continued their northward journey, 
 missing the late stir and companionship, yet maybe not 
 entirely sorry to have a little less notice and more quiet. 
 Gradually the officers and semi-military followers of the army 
 with whom they had been travelling all this time, reached 
 their homes, disappeared from the boat and were replaced 
 by other passengers. The curiosity to look upon war heroes 
 waned; other news than that from Mexico began to occupy 
 the newspapers and fill men s mouths. There were rumors 
 that gold had been discovered in California; emigration to 
 Oregon, buffaloes, Indians, the Great American Desert 
 our campaigns were already stale beside these topics. At 
 one small town on the levee we saw a Mormon encampment, 
 tents, live stock, and covered wagons drawn together in a 
 surly isolation, bound for that well-nigh illimitable West; 
 we saw them and remarked with irreverent wonder on the 
 extremely bad taste in female looks manifested by the fol 
 lowers of the prophet. And, among the adventures of this 
 not at all adventurous trip, Colonel Burke will always recall 
 having fallen in with a voluble, confiding youth, by name 
 Decatur P. Gage, a clerk in the office of Messrs. Fielding &. 
 Hall, Attorneys of St. Louis, whither he was returning after 
 having been sent out to collect information about a case 
 coming up for a new hearing on appeal before the Circuit 
 Court next spring. This was Mr. Gage s first important 
 work for the firm ; and, finding out that Burke was a lawyer, 
 he forthwith entertained the colonel with an extraordinarily 
 long-winded account in minute detail of the whole thing: 
 all about a negro who had been brought by his master from 
 Virginia into the free territory of Missouri fifteen years 
 before, and had been married and had children, and been 
 left as a legacy wife, children, and all, and about whom it 
 appeared there was now a grave dispute. "The nigger s 
 worthless," said young Gage, in response to a question; "but 
 
512 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 that isn t the point, you know. Point is, is he free? If we 
 get a judgment on the ground of technical false imprison 
 ment ever since he s been in the free State under the Com 
 promise that ought to emancipate him, you know why, 
 then we I mean, he could bring suit against the estate for 
 his wages all that while. There d be something in it, you 
 see, or old man Fielding wouldn t have taken it up. I I 
 mean, you know," he added in dire confusion; "I mean 
 Scott s got a case, or our people wouldn t have acted for him. 
 That s the nigger s name Dred Scott." 
 
 This young gentleman left us at St. Louis, where we arrived 
 at such an outrageously early hour, that Burke, who allowed 
 himself some indulgences after his recent hardships on the 
 march, was still in bed; and he was snoring soundly when 
 Sharpless, who was always a much earlier bird, owing perhaps 
 to the distressingly irregular habits of his profession, and 
 who had got up in the express purpose of seeing the place, 
 came knocking at the stateroom door. " Burke! Nathan! 
 Hi, there! I say, wake up!" cried Jim, and kept up a pro 
 digious shouting. 
 
 "Hungh? Ungh? What s the matter?" says the gallant 
 officer, drowsily; and he lumbered out of bed, and unlocked 
 the door, still half asleep. 
 
 " Where s your watch and money? Are you sure you ve 
 got em?" said Jim, grinning inexplicably after this insane 
 question. 
 
 "Hungh? Why, of course. There they are in my waist 
 coat under the pillow. What s up? Boat on fire?" 
 
 " No, oh, no we re tied up safe and sound at the landing. 
 It s St. Louis, you know. And, Nathan," said Sharpless, 
 solemnly, sitting down on the foot of the bed in a very 
 deliberate and impressive manner, "Nathan, some of us 
 have gone ashore already. I saw em scurrying down the 
 gang-plank with their carpet-bags. They made for the 
 shore, magno telluris amore ! and got into waiting chariots 
 hacks in the vulgar tongue and were whirled from my 
 vision! Who knows where they ve gone, or what has be 
 come of them?"" 
 
 "Well, what of it? What under the sun are you talking 
 about?" said Burke in bewilderment. " We don t all have to 
 get off the boat, do we? " 
 
COLONEL BURKE GETS HIS DISCHARGE 513 
 
 "Why, no, certainly not. That s the reason I was so 
 interested in these pilgrims. They didn t merely get off 
 the boat; they left skipped lit out vamosed 
 stood not on the order of their going. They didn t see me, 
 and I I made no effort to be seen. I said to the genial 
 sprite that dispenses refreshment to the thirsty, Bar- 
 keep, seems to me those three men are in a kind of a hurry. 
 He grinned frightfully and answered, Yes, sir, them kind 
 most always leaves in a hurry. And all his attendant 
 afrits in the white jackets laughed in chorus: Yah-yah- 
 yah! Yessah, boss, dey sho ly does. Yah-yah-yah ! 
 One of em, says I, then, is that three-card-monte man, 
 the old fellow with the gray hair, I mean. And that 
 youngest one is his partner "capper," I understand to be 
 the classic term but who is the other? None of them 
 would acknowledge to knowing anything about him, except 
 that they had seen him in company with Canada Charlie 
 a good deal the last few days. And at last one said: Why, 
 boss, didn t he get on with you-all at N Orleans? Ain t 
 that the same young feller that s been on sence this hyer 
 boat done started? And, lo, Nathan, I knew who it was 
 all the time, but kept my mouth shut, because " 
 
 "Was it really George? " Burke asked, wide enough awake 
 now. "Are you sure?" 
 
 Jim nodded. "I suppose Canada Charlie has taken him 
 into partnership it looked like it. They all got into the 
 same carriage, and were plainly in company. I went back 
 to George s room. It s all cleaned out. He s gone for good." 
 
 "The boat lays up here for the day," said Burke; "we 
 may run across him in the town." 
 
 " Not likely. What would you do, anyhow? " 
 
 "Why, I d try and persuade him to come along home and 
 see his mother. Honestly, though, you can t blame him 
 much for not wanting to face the people at home; even 
 George must see that everybody don t approve of him. Oh, 
 well!" ejaculated Burke, philosophically; "I guess we re 
 out of it, anyhow, Jim. We did our best for him. I m going 
 back to bed and get some more sleep." 
 
 When they went ashore after breakfast, some three or 
 four hours later, the two friends did indeed keep a sort of 
 lookout for George as they walked about; but, as they had 
 
 2L 
 
514 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 expected, the young man was nowhere to be found; nor did 
 they even catch sight of his companions, although they 
 visited some of the best-known saloons and gambling dens 
 with which the place was so plentifully provided. St. Louis, 
 even at that date, was a big, busy city; it would have been 
 an easy matter for George to avoid them, and their search 
 was more or less half-hearted and perfunctory. To tell the 
 truth, after George s recent vicissitudes, his present associa 
 tion did not seem to either of them particularly disgraceful 
 or distressing; it was but another variety of step in that 
 Rogues March upon which he had entered years ago. 
 Canada Charlie had grown gray in this trade without getting 
 into the Penitentiary "and old Mr. Marsh always used 
 to say that George would keep out of that, anyhow," said Nat, 
 with a laugh. There is a well-defined point in every scoun 
 drel s career when people cease to be hopeful or even desirous 
 of reforming him; they will thank the kind Fates merely to 
 keep scandal about him hushed up! "I hope at least he 
 will write his family and get up some story they can believe, 
 or pretend to believe," Burke thought, wondering if news 
 of their return had reached the town yet. The papers would 
 have barely kept pace with us; and such were the hazards 
 and delays of the road in those days, that no one could ap 
 point with any certainty a time for his arrival or departure; 
 it was possible that our letters, written weeks before from 
 Mexico, might not yet have been received. 
 
 Not that Colonel Burke expected his fellow-townsmen 
 to turn out and greet him with drums, cannon, and banners; 
 he had done nothing to deserve especial notice, and, besides, 
 had had quite enough of that species of welcome in General 
 Quitman s company, and was well pleased with his present 
 comfortable obscurity. Yet I think he spent some idle 
 moments picturing the pleasant surprise and interest of his 
 friends when he should once more show his tanned face 
 among them on the familiar streets after all these hundreds 
 of miles and days. It was nearly two years; a great deal 
 may happen in that time a great deal had happened. He 
 felt much more than two years older, and, in fact, used to 
 glance into the glass with a little anxiety nowadays, as he 
 shaved himself of a morning, at the lines wearing deeper 
 around his eyes and mouth, at the widening streaks of gray 
 
COLONEL BURKE GETS HIS DISCHARGE 515 
 
 on his temples. We are assured that it is a man s privilege 
 to be homely; and I suppose if he looks old and wrinkled 
 into the bargain, it should cause him no distress. But poor 
 Nat thought that he had never laid eyes on such a scare 
 crow as he had become; nor could all the magnificent new 
 neckties, studs, fancy waistcoats, and what-not, which he 
 feverishly purchased of the Cincinnati haberdasher at the 
 next stopping place, improve him. Why was Mr. Burke 
 in such a state of mind about his looks, to which I freely 
 confess he had never given a thought before? And why, 
 as they neared the journey s end, and the days went by with 
 a maddening slowness, was he irritable, and impatient, and 
 uproariously good-natured, and morose, and meditative by 
 turns? If you can find among your acquaintance some young 
 man who has been two years separated from his sweetheart 
 she is, of course, the most beautiful and fascinating girl 
 on earth and feels, for certain reasons, a little dubious 
 about his reception, and never has been too sure of her at 
 any time, and means to insist on her marrying him at once 
 and put an end to his torments I say, if you can find such 
 a young man, ask him what ailed Nat Burke, and he may 
 be able to tell you. 
 
 If Sharpless suffered from these alternations of temper 
 in his friend, he charitably refrained from resenting them; 
 he was quite acute enough to perceive their cause, and whether 
 the spectacle touched or annoyed or only amused him, Jim s 
 unlimited fund of sympathy and humanity kept him from 
 betraying it. He himself intended stopping over a few days 
 in Cincinnati, to see his publisher, or on some like business, 
 and as Burke felt and plainly showed that he would as cheer 
 fully spend a week upon the rack as in this particular city 
 at the present time, they had to part company. In the dawn 
 of a cold December day, Nat got up and took the train for 
 home an ordinary proceeding enough to modern notions, 
 but something of an experience in those days, when the rail 
 road was only partly built, and we had not yet ceased to 
 marvel at the hair-raising speed an engine and train of cars 
 could attain fully twenty-five miles an hour, it was asserted. 
 This road was one of the changes wrought in Burke s absence, 
 and as it was not nearly completed, he must make the latter 
 half of the journey by stage or horseback, as usual. It would 
 
516 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 take him two days to cover the hundred and twenty miles 
 - two days yet before he could see Her, malediction ! Jim 
 went along to the station to see him away; they were both 
 a little depressed for some reason, Burke, who ought by 
 rights to have been radiantly expectant, was very likely 
 in one of his black moods, and the other may have been 
 thinking with regret and longing of his own broken hopes. 
 He was not much given to talking about himself, and, apart 
 from his letter, had scarcely mentioned his rebuff. "You 
 ought to ask her again/ Burke once counselled him; "you 
 took her by surprise, and maybe she didn t really know her 
 own mind. Why, Francie couldn t help caring for you!" 
 But Sharpless only shook his head with a rather twisted 
 smile. "No, I ve done. She as good as told me there was 
 somebody else, you know." He had not been particularly 
 enthusiastic or impatient about getting home, and several 
 times talked restlessly of going to New York or Boston, 
 whence he had had flattering offers. 
 
 Mr. Burke, then, pressed on alone with all possible expe 
 dition, which is not saying much, in spite of the new style 
 of travel, as the stage roads were in a very bad state at this 
 season of the year. And, although he had laid aside every 
 kind of military dress, he found himself with his battered old 
 baggage whereon the U.S.A. stamp was still plainly discern 
 ible, a good deal stared at by his fellow-passengers, who 
 speedily finding out whence he came, displayed a kind but 
 very searching interest as to his rank, age, pay, and expe 
 riences; and were profoundly amazed to hear that it some 
 times rained in Mexico, and sometimes turned freezing cold, 
 and that the country was neither one vast Sahara nor a jungle 
 of palms and tropic fruits inhabited by every bird, beast, and 
 reptile in creation like the island of the Swiss Family Robin 
 son. By the time he had answered all the queries: no, he 
 didn t know General Taylor yes, he had met General 
 Scott no, he hadn t had the yellow fever yes, he could 
 speak Spanish no, the natives were not black like negroes 
 yes, he had been in a battle no, he couldn t remember 
 how he felt exactly, but he didn t want to run away yes, 
 he had been wounded once no, he had never happened to 
 run across a private named Jake Brown and so on and on 
 endlessly, Nat began to weary of the theme; and accordingly 
 
COLONEL BURKE GETS HIS DISCHARGE 517 
 
 decided to make the last lap of the road on horseback, which 
 he did, arriving in the town, a solitary traveller in the manner 
 of Mr. G. P. R. James s heroes, the afternoon of the day 
 before New Year s, 1848. 
 
 Dusk was falling and lights were beginning to stream out 
 from the shops and houses and from the street lamps at the 
 corners. There was snow underfoot; farmers sleighs and 
 bob-sleds were hitched along the curb. When a door here 
 or there was opened, grand odors of frying ham and coffee 
 saluted the wayfarer. It was not a pretty nor a picturesque 
 scene; but the young man surveyed it with a great warming 
 of the heart. Thank God, he thought, half smiling yet in 
 real relief, no more women and babies crouching in the dust, 
 no more beggars hideous with disease and deformity, no 
 more adobe walls and tumble-down palaces gaudily or som 
 brely decaying like Tadmor in the wilderness! Here was 
 peace, decency, freedom. A girl with a red shawl over her 
 head ran out of a side door, and waited shivering and shrug 
 ging, with eyes fixed on some point a square off whence the 
 sound of a loud, clear, penetrating whistle approached in 
 company with a man s step on the plank sidewalk. Journeys 
 end in lovers meeting! Nat went on, coloring and smiling 
 foolishly at his own thoughts. 
 
 He chose the quietest of the streets in a fit of shyness, and 
 got to the hotel without being challenged or recognized. 
 The clerk was a stranger, and glanced indifferently at 
 "N. Burke" in the register. He was, moreover, very busy 
 with a large catering order which the establishment must 
 get ready to be sent out the next day, as he condescended to 
 explain to several other guests newly arrived and waiting 
 patiently about; Nathan was quite unnoticed in the bustle. 
 He went upstairs to the room which they presently found 
 time to assign him, and made an elaborate toilette, trying 
 two or three of the new cravats hurriedly and nervously, 
 at last pausing in the very act of selecting another black, 
 miraculously figured with trefoils or shamrocks in dull silk 
 on a shining satin ground and looking at himself in the 
 mirror with an angry laugh. He threw the thing aside, 
 and got into the rest of his clothes without looking again, 
 finding his hand mechanically missing and fumbling for the 
 hilt of his sword, and his belt and pistol; there they lay in 
 
518 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 their black oil-cloth cases alongside his valise; the warrior 
 was returned! He put carefully into his pocket a purple 
 morocco case enshrining a chain and locket of filigree silver 
 set with turquoise Mary was one of those black-haired 
 and white-skinned beauties to whom blue was ravishingly 
 becoming; she looked pretty in anything, for that matter, 
 the lover thought fondly, remembering with pride the dainty 
 distinction of her walk, her dress, her little head with the 
 shining, rich braids. As he was leaving the hotel office, a 
 boy ran after him: " Supper s at six, sir, I was to ask would 
 you be here?" " Why ah I don t know. No, I don t 
 believe I shall," Burke said, hesitating; and bestowed on the 
 lad it was the Boots, I think a tip the size of which 
 evidently astonished that functionary even more than it 
 delighted him. 
 
 Mr. Burke hurried along at a slightly less speed than if he 
 had been running to a fire until he was within a block of the 
 house when he, inconsistently enough, slackened to a very 
 slow walk a dawdle, in fact ! She could hardly be expect 
 ing him not at this precise moment, anyhow; his appear 
 ance might be too sudden, a sort of shock. It was incon 
 siderate he ought to have sent a note why hadn t he 
 sent a note? To be sure he might do that yet; but to turn 
 back now, after all this preparation, was beyond him. He 
 could only force himself to walk slowly up the other side of 
 the street, and stand a minute with his heart thumping in a 
 ridiculous fashion against the morocco leather case and 
 Mary s last letter lying together in his breast pocket. There 
 was a light in her window in all the windows; the house 
 looked brighter than he ever remembered seeing it. On 
 the front porch there stood some objects which he presently 
 recognized to be a table and folding chairs and trestles, the 
 furniture of some one of Mrs. Sharpless s sewing-circles, 
 or Sunday-school classes, probably. It looked so familiar 
 he might have gone away but yesterday. Why was he 
 standing there in the cold and snow staring at those lighted 
 windows? He wanted to collect himself, wondering at his 
 own excitement; he was reminded, unpleasantly and inap 
 propriately, of Rawdon Crawley s home-coming the book 
 was just out that year, and Nathan had bought a copy of it 
 in New Orleans and read it on the boat coming up. 
 
COLONEL BURKE GETS HIS DISCHARGE 519 
 
 The maid of all work, coming to the door at his knock, 
 was new and did not know him. Miss Sharpless had gone 
 out, she said, looking the stranger over with interest. 
 
 "Out?" echoed poor Nat he had never thought of that 
 most natural chance, and was grievously disappointed. Yet 
 why shouldn t she be out? She could not be expected to stay 
 in the house for days, merely because he had said he would 
 be home somewhere about the first of the year. He ought 
 to have written a note, he told himself again in vexation. 
 
 "She s gone out sleigh-riding, sir/ the servant volunteered 
 with some excitement and subdued eagerness; she was a 
 comely, fresh-faced young country-girl. "She said before 
 she went that she knew it wasn t usual at this time, but she s 
 awfully tired, and she thought maybe the air would do her 
 good, and she d be sorry to miss anybody, but she couldn t 
 help it. And if there s anything you want to leave for her, 
 sir, of course it ll be perfectly safe." 
 
 Burke heard the chatter uncomprehendingly, without 
 indeed paying much heed to it. For him the main fact 
 was that he must wait another while yet before seeing Mary. 
 He was about to ask for her mother, when he heard that lady s 
 voice from within, inquiring : 
 
 " Is that the man with the meringues? Tell him to go around 
 to the back door, Jennie. They ought to be kept cool. I 
 think the wash-house will be the best place She ap 
 peared in the parlor door, one arm full of a cascading mass 
 of satin, gauze, ribbons, white artificial flowers of some kind, 
 taking a pin out of her mouth as she spoke. "Jennie, you 
 can take this up and lay it on Miss Mary s bed. I think 
 I ve got it fixed right now. I ll attend to the meringues. 
 Are you the man from " 
 
 "It s I, Mrs. Sharpless," said Burke, a little awkwardly 
 and nervously, afraid of startling her; he stepped into the 
 light, taking off his hat; "it s I Na - 
 
 She stopped short, staring almost wildly; she turned quite 
 pale and put out a hand to steady herself against the door- 
 jamb, trembling. The satin and lace garment slid rustling 
 to the floor, from which Jennie barely rescued it. "NA 
 THAN Nathan Burke!" gasped Mrs. Sharpless, shrilly; 
 "what do you want? How did you get here ?" 
 
 "I m so sorry, Mrs, Sharpless, I didn t mean to scare 
 
520 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 you," said the young fellow, much distressed. "I ought to 
 have sent word, of course, but I I felt as if I couldn t wait. 
 I just got home to-day. Didn t you know I would get home 
 about this time? I thought surely Mary would have got 
 one of my letters didn t she?" 
 
 Mary get your letters? Mary? repeated Mrs. Sharpless. 
 "Have you been writing to her? Why, you can t have 
 what do you mean to do? What are you here for?" 
 
 "Why, where else would I go the first thing?" said Nat, 
 in his steadiest voice, trying to reassure her, although he was 
 inwardly a little concerned; Mrs. Sharpless was ordinarily 
 a sensible and cool-headed woman; even if taken by surprise, 
 she would not have gone into the hysterics on which she 
 seemed to be bordering at the moment. She was evidently 
 too startled by his sudden return to be pleased at seeing him. 
 "I was thoughtless I ought to have let you know. But 
 then I supposed you d be expecting me almost any day now, 
 you see. I ll never forgive myself for giving you this shock, 
 though." 
 
 She gazed up at him blankly, yet with a look in her face 
 as of straining to understand, like one conscious of hearing 
 important news but in an unknown tongue. She did not 
 take, nor even see, the young man s outstretched hand. 
 " Where s Jim?" she said abruptly. "Is he with you? 
 Didn t he come, too?" 
 
 "He s well he s all right- Burke said quickly, 
 thinking he understood at last, and anxious to relieve the 
 mother s heart; "he came with me as far as Cincinnati, 
 and I left him there. He ll be here inside the week. Jim s 
 all right, safe and sound, and sent his love to everybody. 
 Don t be worried about him." 
 
 "Did Jim write, too?" 
 
 "Why, yes, I suppose so. Yes, I m sure he did. The 
 letters haven t come?" 
 
 "Haven t you got any letters from us?" asked Mrs. Sharp- 
 less in a strange voice; "haven t you no, wait a minute, 
 Nathan Colonel Burke, I mean don t answer yet, I 
 I want to talk to you - " she commanded herself with a 
 visible effort, and turned to the staring servant-girl. "Jen 
 nie, go upstairs. Take Miss Mary s dress upstairs, and then 
 you can go back to the kitchen. The gentleman wants to see 
 
COLONEL BURKE GETS HIS DISCHARGE 521 
 
 me on business. He wants to see me, " she interpolated hur 
 riedly; "you mustn t disturb Mr. Sharpless on any account. 
 Will you come in here, Mr. Burke? " 
 
 He followed her, puzzled and troubled, into the well-known 
 little parlor, which now itself looked somehow strange. 
 Mary s piano had been pushed back into a corner, and almost 
 all the other furniture was gone; but side by side with this 
 bareness the room wore a certain air of festivity; garlands 
 of evergreen trimmed the curtains, and there were fresh 
 white wax candles in the old girandoles on the mantel-shelf. 
 The minister s wife did not ask him to sit down; she seemed 
 to have forgotten all the everyday civilities, even when she 
 had after a fashion regained her composure. 
 
 "I don t see what you wanted to come here for, Nat 
 Mr. Burke, I mean," she began with a kind of uncertain 
 severity; "I can t understand it unless it is that you 
 don t know, and that s impossible. Why, you must have 
 known of course not the exact day, but I should have 
 thought you wouldn t want to come, anyhow. It can t be 
 that you ?" her voice trailed off into a questioning silence; 
 she looked at him with something like fright in her eyes. 
 
 "I came to see Mary," said Burke, quite calmly, in spite 
 of a wretched foreboding; " I do not know of any reason why 
 I should not come to see her." 
 
 "But she wrote you I know she wrote you. That is, 
 she said she was going to. She must have written why, 
 she had to "cried Mrs. Sharpless. "I can t understand 
 it!" 
 
 "Nor I," said Burke, roused and peremptory. "What is 
 all this about? Mary wrote me, as you say. I have her 
 letter here. There is nothing in it to keep me from coming 
 here, if that is what you mean. If she wanted to break with 
 me, she hasn t said so 
 
 "Nathan!" Mrs. Sharpless almost screamed, "nothing! 
 Oh, I knew you didn t know I felt it from the first. You 
 haven t got her letter, or else " she flung out her hands with 
 a despairing gesture. "Oh, I don t know how it s all hap 
 pened. You ought to have known long ago. I thought 
 you had been told. Nathan, Mary s going to be married." 
 
 "Married? When?" 
 
 "It s to-morrow the wedding s to-morrow. She s go- 
 
522 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 ing to be married to Leonard Andrews. They ve been 
 engaged since last August." 
 
 She paused, perhaps expecting a burst of questions, re 
 proaches, anger, resentment. But Burke, after his first 
 exclamation, stood silent. I do not think that he was 
 stunned or overwhelmed. He was conscious only of a labo 
 rious effort to adjust his mind to the facts. 
 
 "Mary wrote to you in the summer, breaking off >our 
 engagement," Mrs. Sharpless began again, seemingly a little 
 taken aback by his silence; "I know she wrote she said 
 so." 
 
 "She said so?" Nathan repeated. "I never got any such 
 letter from her, Mrs. Sharpless." 
 
 "Well, Mary couldn t help its being lost, or going astray 
 somehow nobody could help that," said the mother, 
 defensively; "Mary acted perfectly honorably with you, 
 Colonel Burke, however you acted towards her." 
 
 "What is that you say to me?" said Nat. 
 
 Mrs. Sharpless flinched a little before his steady eyes, 
 yet fronted him with spirit; the color rose in her delicate, 
 aging face. "You couldn t expect any self-respecting girl 
 to marry you after after that story you know very well 
 what I mean after that got to be known, Colonel Burke." 
 
 "Not if she believed it," Burke said. "I shouldn t want 
 any woman to marry me believing a thing like that about 
 me. I should want her to love me." 
 
 "Nathan, Mary did care for you she did 
 
 "If she had, she would have trusted me a little, I think," 
 said Burke. "Could anyone have made me believe any 
 thing against her?" 
 
 "But that would be different and you oughtn t to talk 
 that way about Mary," said Mrs. Sharpless, indignantly; 
 " as if Mary would would do anything wrong ! It s shame 
 ful to say things like that. How could she help believing 
 it? You never denied it. If it wasn t true, why didn t 
 you say so? Why didn t you prove it wasn t true?" 
 
 "You forget that I didn t know Mary accused me," said 
 Nathan; " one cannot prove or disprove such a story . You 
 know that in your heart, Mrs. Sharpless, and so does Mary, 
 and so does everybody that hears it. If you choose to be 
 lieve it, you will believe it that s all. I might say that I 
 
COLONEL BURKE GETS HIS DISCHARGE 523 
 
 have the name of an honest and decent man that goes for 
 nothing! I might say that if the story were true, I would 
 not have the effrontery to be here now, in your house 
 that goes for nothing, too! As you say, I knew very well 
 what people here were reporting about me Jim told me 
 when he came down to Mexico a year ago; I might deny 
 it or tell my side, but it would come to the same old ques 
 tion in the end do you believe me, or don t you believe 
 me? I thought at least the woman who was to be my wife 
 would stand up for me. She couldn t, it seems; and that 
 was perhaps natural 
 
 "Oh, it s easy for you to talk, and make out a good case," 
 said Mrs. Sharpless, with an extraordinary mixture of doubt, 
 worry, regret, uneasiness, and genuine distress showing in her 
 face. " You re a lawyer, and they always know how to talk 
 and argue. And, anyhow, it s not my doing, Nathan, I don t 
 know what you want to talk this way to me for. I never 
 wanted to believe anything against you nobody could 
 want to think that horrid thing true, you know I don t 
 see how you can say that. But Mary Mary s always 
 had her own way ever since she was a little girl, and I I - 
 why, she couldn t help breaking off the engagement. If you 
 could have heard how everybody talked not Leonard, 
 you know," she interrupted herself quickly; " Leonard s 
 never said a word, though he was coming here all the time, 
 and had plenty of chances, but he he hadn t asked Mary 
 then, and I suppose he thought it wouldn t be honorable to 
 talk about you. It s terrible you didn t get her letter that 
 would have saved you coming here just at this time. I m 
 so sorry it happened this way it makes it so hard for you 
 
 " and here Mrs. Sharpless, appearing by some inexpli 
 cable feminine process to have actually wrought herself into 
 some kind of sympathy for the young man, either as a dis 
 carded lover, or a victim of scandal, or both, broke into little 
 sobs, carefully subdued, even in her excitement, for fear 
 of disturbing the reverend gentleman in the study across 
 the hall. It was as if she were divided between maternal 
 loyalty, and an agonizing suspicion that somebody not 
 Burke alone had done something wrong; a note of defence 
 and explanation sounded through her words. The spectacle 
 of her tears would have moved him unbearably at any other 
 
524 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 time; but just now Nat was pardonably, I think, if selfishly, 
 absorbed in his own affair, and something in her speech had 
 caught his attention. 
 
 " Andrews was coming here all the time, was he? " he asked. 
 
 "Why, yes Mary couldn t help it, you know. Young 
 men have always come to see her; she s so attractive. And 
 he knew she was engaged; Mary never tried to hide that. 
 I m sure he never said a word to her proposed, you know 
 till last August, and then Mary wrote to you right away," 
 said poor Mrs. Sharpless, innocently, in the eagerness of her 
 justification. "I know Leonard never mentioned your name 
 nor that story, nor anything. He wouldn t take advan 
 tage of such a thing. Leonard s very honorable. They did 
 have a little tiff once. I know when it happened, in the fall 
 sometime, because he didn t come to the house for two or 
 three days. But they made it up, and I m sure it wasn t 
 about you." 
 
 Nathan thought of the letter in his pocket, with its graceful 
 endearments. These dates fitted only too well. Her 
 "hero" indeed! And I suppose his expression must have 
 astonished and rather frightened Mrs. Sharpless, for he al 
 most laughed aloud in the suddenness of his illumination. 
 
 The mother s eyes searched his face; then all at once, she 
 burst out vehemently; "Nathan, it s not so! It s not so, what 
 you re thinking. Have you seen anybody? You have been 
 talking to somebody. I know people were mean enough to 
 say that. But it s not so; Mary never did a thing like that. 
 Keep you dangling till she was sure of Leonard oh, I 
 know what people said! Who told you? They re all jeal 
 ous of Mary. You haven t any right to believe, that about 
 her. It s not so!" 
 
 "What isn t so? What are you talking about?" said 
 Burke, a little lamely, startled at the justice of her intuition. 
 But before she could answer, Comedy intervened trivially 
 upon the trivial Tragedy of this interview; the servant came 
 knocking at the door, and partly opening it, in a highly 
 natural curiosity. The meringue man had arrived; would 
 Mrs. Sharpless please come? He wanted her to sign for 
 them 
 
 "Oh, "mercy!" said the poor lady, in desperation. She 
 dabbled the tears away hastily. "Can t he wait? Can t 
 
COLONEL BURKE GETS HIS DISCHARGE 525 
 
 you sign there ought to be five dozen of them. Oh, well, 
 I ll go then" 
 
 She went away, leaving Mr. Burke to meditate upon 
 the recent enlightenment; and it was hardly a pleasant 
 five minutes that the young man spent alone with his 
 anger, his jealousy, his disappointed passion, his sorely 
 mortified vanity. That Mary should have thrown him over 
 for a miserable bit of gossip was sufficiently bitter, but 
 Nathan had generosity enough to allow that it was natural 
 it was what nine women out of ten would have done in her 
 place, helpless, surrounded and worked upon by adverse opin 
 ion and spiteful or careless talk. If she had cared for him a 
 little more but it was cruelly plain to him now that she had 
 never cared for him at all; he had had his moments of doubt 
 ing her before, but that did not make the truth any more 
 palatable when it was finally forced upon him. He had never 
 been anything but a convenience with his attentions, his 
 gifts, his handy devotion. Mary had had the like from some 
 man all her life; it pleased her, it flattered her, she liked it; 
 better he, Nathan Burke, than nobody. And, when the 
 moment came, what a foil, what a goad, what a coquette s 
 tool to egg on some other man ! He ground his teeth on the 
 thought. She had made Leonard fast without letting Burke 
 go admirable prudence and calculation ! But what would 
 she have done to get rid of me, thought Nat, with gruesome 
 irony, if this scandal hadn t fortunately come up? It would 
 have taxed even Mary s resources to have manufactured an 
 excuse for dismissing him; but that she would have done it 
 he did not doubt. The reflection that she might even have 
 been capable of marrying him in case no better match pre 
 sented, was as acid a morsel as the rest. For, alas, my 
 friends, all poor Nathan s talk of his own unworthiness was, 
 like that of other lovers, an unconscious sham, a piece of 
 depreciation which you and I will utter of ourselves, but can 
 not stomach from somebody else; and, in his heart of hearts, 
 I dare say Burke thought he was good enough for anybody. 
 He was pacing up and down the narrow room, when the 
 sound of sleigh-bells and of the vehicle drawing up at the door 
 started him from his gloomy reviewing; and Mrs. Sharpless 
 came hurrying back at the instant. "It s they it s Mary 
 - 1 they ve come back, you know. You you d better 
 
526 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 go, hadn t you, Nathan? You don t want to stay now, do 
 you ? You can go out the back way if you hurry," she said, 
 breathlessly appealing. 
 
 Burke almost smiled. He saw himself stealing out the 
 back way like the villain or the guilty lover in a melodrama - 
 he, who had done nothing ! I believe there never was a crisis, 
 no matter how supremely serious, that lacked some element 
 of the grotesque. 
 
 "I said before that I knew of no reason why I shouldn t be 
 here, and I don t now," he said. 
 
 " You re not going to do anything, Nathan?" 
 
 "Do I look as if I meant violence?" inquired Burke; "I 
 assure you I won t do any harm to anybody." 
 
 She looked at him, hesitating; and the young man s heart 
 smote him at sight of the distress in her face. For shame, 
 Nat Burke, he thought remorsefully, what has this poor 
 mother done to you? None of this is her fault; and what 
 kind of a mother would she be not to stand by her daughter, 
 and put the best front on it she can? 
 
 "Don t be worried, Mrs. Sharpless," he said gently; "I 
 can t run away, you know. I don t mean to do anything, as 
 you say. I should be the last man in the world to stand be 
 tween Mary and her happiness. I only want to speak to her ; 
 and you yourself know that I am in no position to find fault 
 with or reproach her." 
 
 She looked at him again, the tears rising in her eyes, and 
 turned towards the door. They heard Mary s step on the 
 porch, her hand on the latch Burke thought he would 
 have recognized the sound of her movements in a thousand. 
 She was calling a gay good-by, and Andrews s voice answered 
 her from the street. Mrs. Sharpless came back impulsively, 
 and laid her hand on Burke s arm; her tears dropped and 
 glistened on his coat sleeve. "Nathan," she whispered 
 chokingly, "I never believed that story I can t believe it. 
 I don t care what anybody says there ! " She went quickly 
 out into the hall. "Go in there, Mary. There s somebody 
 to see you ! " and she went on upstairs, treading more 
 heavily than she used; and Mary came into the room. 
 
 She stood still at sight of him, her hands at her throat in the 
 act of loosening her bright hood and scarf and thick white furs. 
 Little silky strands of black hair had been blown across her 
 
COLONEL BURKE GETS HIS DISCHARGE 527 
 
 forehead, and she put them back mechanically, staring. She 
 did not cry out or turn pale as her mother had done; perhaps 
 Mary was much better prepared for such a meeting. Her 
 clear and deep gray eyes met Burke s without faltering. 
 Why should they? What had she to be ashamed of? 
 
 " Colonel Burke?" she said, after a moment, with a little 
 rising inflection; and finished removing her wraps. 
 
 "I understand my letters haven t got here yet. I apolo 
 gized to your mother for coming upon her so suddenly, but of 
 course I supposed you would be looking for me," said Burke, 
 striving unsuccessfully for an equal self-command. 
 
 She made a slight movement with her head and hands 
 which might have meant assent, and sat down. To this hour 
 Burke does not know whether she had received the letters or 
 not. He went on: "It seems that other letters must have 
 miscarried, for I I didn t know that you that I that 
 we weren t engaged any longer. I never heard from you, 
 breaking everything off." 
 
 "After what has been reported about you, Colonel Burke," 
 said Mary, folding her veil neatly and raising her calm eyes 
 to his, "I am surprised you could have supposed yourself 
 engaged to me any longer. I don t see that there was any 
 necessity for me to write you, or how you could have expected 
 me to say anything to you about it. You must have known 
 that acting that way doing what you did would put an 
 end to everything between us, if it ever was known. And of 
 course it had to be known those things are always found 
 out. I am very much surprised that you came here at all." 
 
 She sat there, cool, sweet-faced, passionless, and delivered 
 this little speech in a clear and level voice, assuming his guilt, 
 and putting him in the wrong with a kind of serene assurance 
 and finality. Burke looked at her and all the affection, 
 all the jealousy, all even of the helpless resentment within 
 him, fell down and died without a struggle. What had he 
 been worshipping all this while? Mary Sharpless, or a bright 
 youthful vision she had some way embodied? To find her no 
 angel, but a selfish and calculating woman, hurt him only in 
 that it most ruthlessly forced him to destroy that young illu 
 sion; himself he grasped the pillars of his house of dreams, 
 and shook it down. The selfishness that reared it was per 
 haps not so ugly as Mary s, yet of the same stuff when all was 
 
528 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 said; I think he had been in love with being in love, not with 
 Mary Sharpless; and it was Nat Burke s home and hearth 
 and wedded happiness he had pictured so fondly, not hers. 
 
 "This is the end, then," he said, after a silence; " forgive 
 me for coming. I did not know. Good-by." 
 
 He went toward the door. He had been so short a time in 
 the house that the outer cold still clung about his clothes and 
 heavy greatcoat. Mary s eyes followed him with a strange 
 expression. Perhaps she had expected, and armed herself 
 against, an angry scene of reproaches, protests, denuncia 
 tions; his submission seemed to puzzle, almost to annoy her. 
 His hand was on the latch when she spoke again in an 
 altered voice, and not nearly so composedly. "I I this 
 is only the merest justice to myself and and others 
 only justice. You must see you can t but understand 
 that that that - 
 
 "I do understand," said Burke, without rancor. Their 
 eyes met again; in that last look, both perceived, with a sud 
 den chilling of the heart, that something was gone from their 
 faces and their lives, and would never come back any more. 
 It was Youth. Nathan went out of the house, and closed the 
 door. 
 
 Mr. Burke walked slowly back to his hotel, and slowly to 
 the bedroom where all his gala clothes were still strewn about 
 in disorder. Feeling in his pockets not for a pistol or a 
 vial of poison, romance-monger, but, tout bonnement, for a 
 handkerchief to wipe his nose ! he encountered the purple 
 morocco case. He balanced it in his hand a moment, then 
 threw it back into the portmanteau with a sort of laugh, and 
 straightway went off and forgot all about it. Years after 
 ward the thing turned up in his old army baggage with other 
 rubbish in the garret, and was donated for a prize to be 
 raffled off at one of the sanitary fairs they used to hold dur 
 ing the late war for the benefit of our men in the field! 
 
 His friend the Boots erelong came to the door. "We been 
 kinder busy, sir, gittin off the things for the weddin -break 
 fast there s a weddin in town to-morrow," he said, mop 
 ping his tired brow; "supper s ready. Concluded you d 
 come back, after all, didn t you?" 
 
CHAPTER XV 
 
 " HERE S SORRY CHEER! QUOTH THE HEIR o LYNNE" 
 
 I BELIEVE it has been remarked elsewhere in the course of 
 this history that if Truth, crushed to earth, will invariably 
 rise again, it has still nothing like the tough and enduring 
 vitality of a good lie. Not long since, Mr. Burke, sitting in 
 his private office, which is separated from the profane vulgar 
 by a rich screen or partition of woodwork and ground glass, 
 heard, through his door, which happened to be hanging ajar, 
 a scrap of conversation between two clients, meeting un 
 expectedly without. And said one: "Hello, does Burke 
 attend to your legal business too? I didn t know that." 
 
 "Yes, oh, yes. Has for years; began with my father." 
 
 "Fine old gentleman, the old general, isn t he? Nice old 
 fellow!" 
 
 "Yes, and it s strange they say he was a very wild sort of 
 young man not much good." 
 
 "Is that so? Drank, hey? Spree d? I guess a lot of 
 em drank pretty hard in those days." 
 
 "Well, no, I never heard that. No, it was women that was 
 the matter with Burke, father used to say. Finally he ruined 
 some poor girl, and it made a terrible talk. She died, and 
 Burke had to get out of town; that was when he went off to 
 the Mexican War, you know. It seems he was engaged at 
 the very time to a nice girl here at home; but, of course, when 
 she heard of it, she broke off with him and the whole thing 
 made a man of him. He straightened up after that, and 
 never misbehaved again at least not that anybody ever 
 heard of, my father said. You d never think it to look at him 
 now, would you? " And here the aged reprobate behind the 
 screen, signalling his presence by a stentorian cough, put an 
 end to these reminiscences. After forty years of living with 
 it, you might have supposed him habituated to the stigma, 
 as the Indian fakir teaches himself to endure all sorts of bodily 
 inconvenience, and goes about with one arm grown to his 
 2M 529 
 
530 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 side, or a nail through his nose, in great peace of mind; but 
 Burke never quite learned their stalwart philosophy; and to 
 this day that shameful imputation, old as it is and irremedi 
 able, has power to sting him deeply. 
 
 Although the scandal was a year old, and must have been 
 pretty well turned over in that time, it got a fresh start with 
 Burke s reappearance, and flourished magnificently. I can 
 conceive that nowadays it might not have been so venomous, 
 nor have so attracted and, as it were, concentrated the notice 
 of the community; but in our small society, where everybody 
 knew everybody else s business, where not one-fourth so 
 much of public and outside interest distracted us as to-day, 
 and where the young man had attained a certain prominence, 
 the story went the rounds with incredible briskness, and, bad 
 enough already, received nobody knows how many unsavory 
 additions. The ladies, who were by no means the most back 
 ward in spreading it, were obliged in common decency and 
 self-respect to pass this hero on the street without recognition, 
 to close their virtuous parlors against him, to frown and shake 
 their heads, and cast their blushing looks downwards when 
 ever his name was mentioned in public. And although 
 the masculine half were, as is generally the case, most sin 
 fully tolerant, and out of sympathy, or indifference, or sheer 
 perversity continued to associate even with such a moral leper 
 as Nat Burke, who, strange to relate, attended to his 
 affairs industriously, and appeared to be both upright and 
 capable ! there were not a few who, in the presence of 
 their womenkind at least, avoided the young man s company. 
 They were married men, fathers of families, of young grow 
 ing girls what would you have? The domestic peace must 
 be kept at whatever sacrifice of personal prejudice or opinion. 
 I dare say Thomas, Richard, and Henry had their orders. 
 And what if Mr. or General as he was now called, for he got 
 the brevet shortly after his return home Burke, was dined 
 by Governor Gwynne, and did receive a vote of commen 
 dation from the Legislature, and the gift of a beautiful sword, 
 with a hilt of gold and mother o pearl, "appropriately in 
 scribed"? Let him get what consolation he could out of his 
 military laurels that didn t make a respectable man of him, 
 Thomas. Nor a fit person to invite to our house, Richard. 
 And I don t care whether you are asked to the banquet and 
 
"HERE S SORRY CHEER" 531 
 
 the presentation or not, Henry, you shan t go, and appear to 
 approve of that man would you like to have our little Toms, 
 Dicks, and Harrys grow up to be like him? 
 
 Burke being, all testimony to the contrary notwithstanding, 
 a young fellow of a certain solidity of character and very 
 definite aims and standards, supported his ostracism with 
 out bravado, I trust, and without taking to strong liquors or 
 other reprehensible courses. In truth, Nat was used to lone 
 liness, as regarded feminine society at any rate. Few women 
 had ever taken any interest in him, and he told himself that 
 if they could do without him, he could perfectly well do with 
 out them. The grapes were very sour, I suppose. He had 
 indeed some champions among them; for, coming out of 
 church one day (the hardened libertine actually had the in 
 solence to attend service quite frequently!) and passing 
 through the crowd of skirts and bonnets as rigorously un 
 noticed as if he had owned Prince What s-his-name s cloak 
 of invisibility, Nat found himself side by side with Miss Clara 
 Vardaman Miss Clara looking quintessential spinsterhood 
 in her neat, thick, handsome silks and bugles, her lavender kid 
 gloves, her sable muff, the gold eyeglasses on her slender, 
 curving nose. "How do you do, Colonel Burke? Will you 
 give me your arm down the steps? They re quite icy this 
 morning," says Miss Clara, hardily, though with the color 
 mounting to her high cheek-bones. Before the shocked 
 gaze of every one she knew, her entire little world, she 
 walked down the steps of Trinity Church, and along the side 
 walk, clinging to his arm and chatting resolutely; and showed 
 in doing it you will pardon me for thinking a real cour 
 age, the courage of a great lady and a kind heart. 
 
 " Bravo, Clara!" said the doctor, when Burke, smiling a 
 little in spite of himself, described this incident to him; "she ll 
 have to stand all sorts of pecks and stings from the women for 
 that, you know, Nathan dear angels that they are!" said 
 Jack, somewhat cynically; his own love affair had ended as 
 unfortunately as Burke s, if for a less serious cause. "I 
 have another loyal friend in who do you think?" said Nat, 
 cheerfully; "why, Mrs. Slaney, to be sure! She says she 
 knows nobody better that men will be men, and maybe 
 I^got tangled up somehow like Slaney did (I always have 
 kind of reminded her of Slaney, he was just that sympathetic, 
 
532 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 and kind of soft, you know, with women, and awfully free 
 with his money, just like I am!) with some girl, but you can t 
 make her believe it was all my fault. They re plenty of 
 sharp, good-looking, brazen hussies around ready to get hold 
 of a man like me, and twist him round their finger," said 
 Burke, ungratefully imitating Mrs. Slaney s voice and man 
 ner, to Vardaman s huge amusement. The doctor was one of 
 Nathan s few confidants; he could scarcely have talked to 
 Sharpless all circumstances considered so openly. 
 
 Jim, arriving the week after his friend, and after the wed 
 ding of which he had known nothing, came around to the 
 office next day, with a face of great perplexity, distress, and 
 confusion. "I can t say much to you, Nat," he began 
 abruptly; "I had a kind of uneasy feeling all along. Mother 
 and father seem to have counted for nothing like two dum 
 mies. They re both old, and they re too too used to 
 Mary, you know, to have any say. Mother feels pretty bad. 
 She s always been very fond of you, and she s beginning to 
 think now that you weren t treated right; she wanted you to 
 come to the house, but, of course, I told her you wouldn t 
 do that it made her feel very badly. Women don t un 
 derstand somehow; they all seem to think you can knock 
 down Humpty Dumpty off the wall and pick him up again as 
 whole as ever spill all the milk and scoop it up again 
 begin just where you left off, and have everything the same 
 as it always was! Mother feels as if she and father have been 
 partly to blame, but I I don t think they could have helped 
 it. Mary wouldn t even put off the wedding when they 
 heard there was a possibility of my coming home her only 
 brother! And I never was told anything about it the 
 engagement or anything." 
 
 "It s all right, Jim, old fellow, don t say anything more. 
 It s only what I might have expected any girl would have 
 done the same. You see what everybody all her friends 
 think of me," said Burke, not choosing that the brother 
 should know any more of the story. And whether Jim sus 
 pected anything then or afterwards, I do not know, for we 
 have never mentioned the subject and seldom even Mary s 
 name, from that day to this. 
 
 The two had really not much chance to talk in private, 
 during these days; for Sharpless was only at home for a short 
 
"HERE S SORRY CHEER" 533 
 
 time to see his family and friends and say his good-bys. 
 He would be off in a fortnight for St. Louis, Council Bluffs, 
 the Overland Trail to Oregon, and the gold diggings. Not 
 with any idea of making his fortune Jim appraised his own 
 talents and disposition too justly for that, and no such illu 
 sion led him on. A certain restlessness possessed him; it 
 had taken him to Mexico; it was taking him to California; 
 it took him through later life to known, distant, populous 
 cities and equally to all the lost and forgotten corners 
 of the world. We never knew when he might burst 
 in upon our humdrum hearths, bronzed and leathery, 
 late from Alaska, New Zealand, Cape Horn Heaven 
 knows where! They say a rolling stone gathers no moss, 
 yet I am sure Sharpless is very tenderly enshrined in the 
 hearts of his friends, and particularly of his friends young 
 sters, upon whom he was forever bestowing all manner of 
 outlandish gifts picked up in his wanderings sea-island 
 ers feather-cloaks, Egyptian scarabs, Hindoo idols, French 
 dolls, miniature tea-sets of Japanese lacquer, Indian bows-and 
 arrows toys which the mothers alternately declared too 
 dangerous or too beautiful to be played with. You may see 
 them now in the corner-cabinets and bric-a-brac stands of a 
 dozen parlors. I have heard the ladies sigh regretfully that 
 it was such a pity Mr. Sharpless wouldn t marry; look how 
 fond he was of pretty things and children. He was really 
 very domestic, for all he would travel about so much such 
 a pity! He used to make barbarous parodies of the noble 
 lines in "Ulysses," applying them to himself: 
 
 " It little profits that with busy pen, 
 Ink, paper, and the ever-needed stamp, 
 I mete and dole untruthful words unto 
 A set of savage editors 
 
 That horde and sleep and feed and know not me. 
 I cannot rest from travel 
 There lies the train ; the engine puffs her steam ; 
 There glooms the dark, broad porter of 
 The Pullman car" 
 
 Jim would chant sonorously, and double up with icono 
 clastic laughter. He carried his bachelorhood bravely, and 
 if I have sometimes surprised a look of wistfulness or loneli- 
 
534 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 ness on his face at sight of some young mother with her baby, 
 the child Good Lord, the grandchild, nowadays! of an 
 acquaintance, it always passed quickly. We gave him a din 
 ner, too, and presented him with a handsome gold-mounted 
 shaving-set in a travelling-case, upon the occasion of this 
 first departure; and all the papers, Whig and Democrat, 
 described the ceremonies the next day, in articles a column 
 long with many references to "our talented fellow-towns 
 man." The public had generously forgotten or forgiven his 
 heresies ; and hardly anybody to-day would understand 
 what the term meant as applied to his opinions. 
 
 All this while, in defiance of all the laws of retribution, the 
 firm of Burke and Lewis prospered amazingly, undeterred by 
 the return of the senior partner with his evil thick upon him. 
 Young Lewis, whether he believed the gossip or not, did not 
 allow it to disturb his own peace, nor his relations with the 
 hero of it. He was a shrewd young fellow, with a good gift 
 at estimating men s characters, as a pleader of no startling 
 eloquence perhaps, but forcible, honest, humorous, and ready. 
 It was remarked of the firm that one man uniting the special 
 and separate qualities of its two members would have been a 
 great lawyer; as it was, I suppose they were merely a notably 
 strong alliance. It lasted for nearly thirty years, only dis 
 solving when Lewis went on the Bench in 1875. One of the 
 first visitors to the office after Burke s return was his ancient 
 patron, Mr. Marsh. Nat, having heard on all sides that old 
 George was failing fast, was very feeble, was growing childish, 
 and so on, was agreeably surprised when he stumped in, ap 
 parently vigorous as ever, with eyes and hearing as keen as in 
 the days of their first acquaintance, and with what looked 
 like the same shabby tail-coat on his back, and the same 
 grease-stains and dabs of tobacco in the creases of his waist 
 coat. His manner, however, was much more cordial than 
 used to be natural with him, and he presently displayed a 
 certain eagerness and volubility and disposition to talk about 
 himself, which Burke was obliged to acknowledge inwardly, 
 not without reluctance, to be a sign of the creeping years. 
 
 "I can t stay very long that is, I won t stay very long," 
 he announced, after the greetings were over; "I never did 
 like people idling around an office. And then I have business 
 of my own to attend to. People think because a man s 
 
" HERE S SORRY CHEER" 535 
 
 retired, he hasn t got anything to do. Well, that s a mistake; 
 there s something for me to do, anyhow, I take notice, all the 
 time. Now, where I board, there s a man setting a new grate 
 in the back-parlor mantelpiece got to tear out the bricks 
 and set the grate all over on account of its smoking and 
 I ve got to go back directly and keep an eye on that job. 
 Don t make any difference how good a workman is, he ll 
 bear watching that s my principle. It s an exceptional 
 man, anyway, that don t need a little watching, hey? I 
 guess you remember me telling you that when you was keep 
 ing the books, hey?" 
 
 "Oh, I don t know, Mr. Marsh," said Nathan, amused. 
 "I remember your telling me that responsibility was good for 
 almost everybody, and that people ought to be left to their 
 own devices sometimes, anyhow, if only to see what kind of an 
 out they made of it." 
 
 "Well, you see you were always a tolerably steady boy, or 
 I wouldn t have talked that way to you. That s what I tell 
 Anne. He s always been a steady young fellow, says I, 
 and I doubt very much if all these stories we hear about- 
 turn are true wouldn t wonder if they were cut out of 
 whole cloth. But even if they were true, Lord love you, 
 says I, if every young man that s behaved that way has got 
 to go to hell for it, why, it s going to be mighty lonesome in 
 heaven! However," added the old gentleman, philo 
 sophically, "there ain t much use arguing with Anne when 
 she s got her back up. You know that. Don t make much 
 odds what I say, she always winds up with, Why, Uncle 
 George, Georgie wrote us all about it exactly as it happened. 
 He saw it all with his own eyes. Huh! I says, since 
 when did George set out to tell the truth, the whole truth, and 
 nothing but the truth ? It s been my observation he can lie 
 like a missionary. And, anyhow, what did he see ? By damn, 
 I d have liked to been there, and seen it, too ! Tain t the 
 kind of thing that s generally on view, "said old George, con 
 cluding this exposition of his sentiments with a dreadfully 
 significant wink and grin. " Hm! says Anne you 
 know how Anne says Hm ! Nathan, and then told 
 Francie to go out of the room, because she d rather she didn t 
 hear how her Uncle George talks ! What s become of George, 
 anyhow, do you know ?" 
 
536 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 Burke told him all he knew, but the other listened with a 
 wandering attention, and before the young man had well 
 finished, began to talk. " Got off at St. Louis, hey ? Maybe 
 Anne ll hear from him, then, as long as he s in this country. 
 She hasn t had any word since you started from Mexico, I 
 believe. She made me promise to ask you. I wanted to 
 know why she didn t have you come up to the house and tell 
 her all about him yourself, but she nearly went into screech 
 ing hysterics at the notion, and Francie begun to cry, and 
 there was an infernal howdy-do. Made me pretty mad. 
 By damn, ma am/ I said to her; if Burke s good enough 
 to take care of your son, he s good enough to have in your 
 house. George may be a moral young man, but I ain t heard 
 of his getting any promotion, and a sword from the com 
 munity yet. Point of fact, I ain t heard of his doing any 
 thing, except get lost and found, and I take notice nobody s 
 explained those circumstances. How was that, Nathan? 
 You ought to know." 
 
 " Why, that s about all there is to know," said Burke, and 
 gave him an outline of George s story, omitting to mention, 
 however, the society and conditions wherein Lieutenant 
 Ducey had recovered his liberty. "No use going into that 
 miserable detail," he thought. 
 
 "Well, maybe it s so and maybe tain t," said Mr. Marsh, 
 impartially, at the end. "Can t relie on George. I thought 
 likely he d run away, deserted, you know, when I first heard 
 it. Poor Anne ! Pretty hard on a woman, having her only son 
 turn out like George pretty hard. She has a kind of an idea 
 he ain t any good, but she won t acknowledge it to herself. 
 She keeps talking about him being just a young boy, and his 
 character ain t formed yet. But he ll never be any different, 
 Nathan; I ve seen George s kind before. Queer thing is 
 somebody s always taking care of em, and helping em 
 out, and worrying over em; their parents or kin or some 
 body." 
 
 "Well, it s very natural for Mrs. Ducey 
 
 "Oh, yes, Anne s all the time worrying around about some 
 body or something, anyhow. Every now and then she gets 
 a spell of wanting to take care of me. And, damn it, Nathan, 
 I don t want to be taken care of," said the old man, irritably. 
 "Can t make her understand that, somehow. I haven t got 
 
"HERE S SORRY CHEER" 537 
 
 into my dotage yet, I guess. I can take care of myself; 
 ain t as young as I was, of course, but I don t see any men 
 of my age around that are any better preserved, now, do 
 you?" 
 
 Nat could and did assent to that with a clear conscience; 
 for, in fact, there were few, if any, citizens of George Marsh s 
 age in the place. "You don t look a day older to me, sir," 
 he said and it was quite true. 
 
 "I ve got just as clear a head for business as I ever had in 
 my life," pursued the veteran; "I drew out just because I 
 wanted to. But I ain t on the shelf, by any means, Burke. 
 I could get right back to work to-morrow, if I had to if I 
 lost my money, for instance. Not that I m afraid of that; 
 I ve got it where it s safe, I guess. Landed property and 
 ground-rents don t run away. I didn t leave but a little with 
 Ducey, you know. Between you and me, Nathan, Ducey 
 hasn t got any gumption he ain t smart. I ll bet he s 
 running behind right along, and has been ever since he s been 
 by himself at the store, and probably don t know it, or don t 
 know why, anyway. It ll be just like it was that time down 
 in New Orleans twenty-five years ago, when they all got out 
 and came up here. William had got through everything. 
 William thinks now he s going to make a big thing out of 
 these government contracts for feeding the army, you 
 know same way I did back in 1812. Look here, now, 
 you want to go slow, I told him the other day. First 
 thing you know the war ll be over, and that ll leave you with 
 the bag to hold. Don t stock up too much; don t have too 
 much on hand, or too much ordered. It s easy enough to 
 get flour and bacon, without loading up with em. No use 
 talking; he thinks the war s going to last forever. Thinks 
 we re going to keep on till we ve conquered Mexico." 
 
 "I hope not!" said Burke, seriously; he meant it. 
 
 "Yes. I notice anybody that s seen war once, the way you 
 have, has about got his bellyfull. But if Ducey don t bust 
 himself that way, he will some other way," said Mr. Marsh, 
 with a curious indifference. "I ve known a lot of men got 
 busted doing the very things I did, only they didn t know 
 how. Why, they tell me now there s a big whillabaloo being 
 raised over land-titles property all around here in the old 
 Refugee Tract, and right next door to where I bought. 
 
538 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 People named Allen, claiming to be the heirs of an Allen that 
 the United States gave some land to back in the Revolution 
 time a British refugee from Canada, I believe. I remember 
 when that land came on the market at sheriff s sale I ve 
 told you about it. You could buy it for nothing almost 
 and look at the value of it now ! But these Aliens are making 
 out that the sale made a cloud on the title somehow, and I 
 understand they ve brought suit against all the owners 
 the ones that have the most valuable improvements, anyhow. 
 Now you know I bought right at that time, and same place 
 the Refugee Tract; and I was a little anxious at first when I 
 heard about the suit. I ll be the next one/ thinks I. But 
 I ve never heard a word out of any of em, or anybody else, 
 and it s been a year now since the shindy began. Nobody s 
 sueing me. I got out my old deeds and looked em over, and 
 by damn, Nathan, I didn t buy any of Allen s land! I don t 
 remember the circumstances now, but I must have had my 
 suspicions at the time. My titles all come from a fellow by 
 the name of Granger. People will tell you that s just old 
 George Marsh s luck. They don t allow for old George 
 Marsh s common sense." 
 
 " That s so," said Nathan. 
 
 "I don t deny it s given me some worry, Burke. This 
 Granger now it s funny there ain t any of his children 
 turned up. All the land was in what we used to call Mc- 
 Bride s Half-section, because McBride was one of the original 
 proprietors, one of the fellows that bid for the site of the town, 
 you know; and afterwards the speculation busted him, and 
 the sheriff sold him out. He didn t buy of Granger exactly, 
 either; as near as I can make out from the papers he bought 
 of an agent acting for Granger. Would that make any dif 
 ference in my titles, Nathan?" 
 
 "Well, I I d have to see the papers before I could say. 
 But I don t believe you ll ever hear from any of Granger s 
 descendants if they haven t begun on you by this time," 
 said Burke, concerned at his old friend s evident uneasiness. 
 "It would take a great deal of time and trouble and money 
 for them to prove a claim, anyhow." 
 
 "Yes, I know that that s one of the things that s worry 
 ing me," said old George, with impatience. " If anything got 
 started now, why, it would be sure to last me out, and at my 
 
"HERE S SORRY CHEER 539 
 
 death my property would pretty near all be tied up in a law 
 suit. How d poor Walter s children make out with a law 
 suit ? They re all women, and they haven t got any too much 
 sense, anyhow. I guess I ll bring all my deeds down and have 
 you look em over. You see, Nathan," he went on, almost 
 apologetically, " everybody was careless about forms, you 
 know, in the old days. We well, we were just careless I 
 can see it now. Just for a sample : I understand these Allen 
 people take the ground that there wasn t any appraisement of 
 the lots made, and notice given properly legally, you know, 
 before the sale. Gilbert Gwynne was talking about that the 
 other day, and presently he turned around to me and says : 
 Why, here s somebody ought to know. Mr. Marsh, you 
 were there at the time, weren t you ? You remember those 
 lots were all appraised regularly ? The governor owns some 
 of that Refugee Tract land, too, you know. But I just had to 
 own up; I had to say to him: Gil/ says I, I ll be damned 
 if I remember a thing about it ! They put em up at 
 auction two or three times, and when we got good and ready, 
 we all went in and bought, and that s every last thing I 
 know! It ought to be a matter of record, but I doubt if 
 anybody has the scratch of a pen to show for it." 
 
 He went on talking in this strain for some time, by turns 
 vaunting his shrewdness, explaining his anxieties, and calling 
 on Burke for reassurance in a manner which betrayed a sad 
 falling off. It was not entirely just, Burke thought, to call 
 him childish, or even greatly failed; the strength of his 
 character endured and showed by flashes still; but certainly 
 he was no longer the hard, resolute, and self-confident man of 
 a few years back. Burke found something namelessly de 
 pressing in the old fellow s softened ways towards himself, the 
 warmth of his compliments, his proud assertions that he had 
 seen there was "something in" his protege from the first. In 
 the old days Mr. Marsh would as soon have thought of giving 
 Nat a stick of candy as of flattering or even commending him ; 
 it was enough for him to approve. He used at times to talk 
 very freely to the young man about his affairs and experiences, 
 but his talk was always clear-headed, apt to the moment, 
 profitable. Now he would run on endlessly, prompted by 
 nothing but the desire for companionship and sympathy, 
 asking for the other s opinion, pleased at his interest 
 
540 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 which, Heaven forgive us, was often enough feigned, and very 
 poorly feigned at that ! It was touching. For, as time went 
 on, old George s visits to the office increased in length and 
 frequency; I think he had nowhere else to go, and it was the 
 event of the day for him. 
 
 He invariably began by expressing his intention of staying 
 only a short while nobody ought to set foot in any man s 
 office but the people who had business there he knew that 
 he just thought he d look in for a minute he was busy 
 at home, anyhow. And he never went away without men 
 tioning the papers which he meant to bring down for Nathan 
 to examine he didn t believe there was anything the mat 
 ter with them guess it would take a smart man to find a 
 flaw in his titles, old George Marsh s titles still, it would 
 make him a little easier he would bring them the next day. 
 The next day came, and he had forgot them, by damn ! But 
 whether he really did forget them, or kept up this ingenious 
 fiction to persuade himself that he had business at the office, 
 it would be hard to say. He had a stout hickory chair in a 
 corner, and would sit there a whole morning, silent when 
 clients came in or the place was busy for he had most 
 rigorous ideas about office discipline quite talkative, 
 jocose, and reminiscent at other times with Burke, with 
 Lewis, who was always patience and good-humor itself, 
 with our increasing squad of clerks the lads were generally 
 kind-hearted and civil enough, even if they did grin at each 
 other behind his back. I have heard Mr. Marsh pitching 
 them some extraordinary tale of my own parts and prowess 
 when I was such as they " Fifteen years I ve known him, 
 boys, fifteen years. I guess I ve had plenty of time and 
 chances to find out what kind he is. You d get a pretty 
 good line on a rascal in that time, hey ? I ve seen the world," 
 he would observe somewhat ambiguously ; and our Jacks and 
 Jimmies would bolt incontinently into the outer hall, where 
 we could hear their youthful guffawing. It was not a pic 
 turesque or stately decline; but I cannot in honesty dress it 
 up or report it otherwise than as it was. If we could but 
 choose the manner of our exit, and know when to expect the 
 cue, what a grand business should we all make of it ! But it is 
 not a handsome thing to be old and tired and near our end; 
 and whatever of sad or shabby was to be seen in old George 
 
"HERE S SORRY CHEER" 541 
 
 Marsh will probably be seen in you and me. God be with 
 him, honest old pagan ! although I must think he would 
 be somewhat ill at ease in any sort of spiritual company; and 
 like better, indeed, to believe him sleeping alone and sound 
 and dreamlessly under the green turf. 
 
CHAPTER XVI 
 
 IN WHICH MR. BUEKE RECEIVES AND MAKES VlSITS 
 
 BURKE, not having made any effort to "live down" the 
 memory of the fault which he had not committed, and having 
 made no change in his habits and way of life, was surprised 
 and a little sardonically amused to find himself, after twelve 
 months or so had gone by, gradually emerging, as it were, 
 from the cloud of obloquy undergoing rehabilitation. 
 People get used to everything, and Nat, who was not par 
 ticularly observant, and had accepted his isolation without 
 protest, woke up with a start one day to the fact that he was 
 being looked at, and in some cases bowed to, officially and 
 publicly recognized albeit rather stiffly and self-con 
 sciously by a number of those amiable beings without 
 whose influence society would be a mere mess of corruption. 
 I do not know what forces were at work : perhaps the ladies 
 were tired of the game; perhaps they discerned a chance to 
 reform him; perhaps there was a growing opinion that he 
 had been punished enough, and a desire to gather up the 
 spilled milk, as Jim would have suggested. The poor wretch 
 bore no malice; it is only women who feel a righteous enmity 
 towards those who are in the wrong, and who will hate you 
 sturdily for a difference of belief. He humbly and grate 
 fully took off his hat to these signs not of returning favor, 
 he had not the conceit to think that of reestablished 
 tolerance. All the husbands had long since relented, for 
 convenience sake, if from no kinder motive; and when 
 William Ducey appeared at the office one fine morning, 
 Burke might have known, if he had troubled his head about 
 it at all, that the last of the barriers was down. 
 
 For, of all his judges, Mrs. Anne Ducey was the hardest 
 and most implacable, as Nathan had observed with a sort 
 of good-tempered and patient irony. He would have 
 guessed it, even without old Mr. Marsh s reports. She could 
 not forgive him for having laid her under certain obligations 
 
 542 
 
MR. BURKE RECEIVES AND MAKES VISITS 543 
 
 for, even if she did not know the exact extent of them, 
 what she did know irked her pride. And again: whatever 
 kind of man Burke had proved morally, he was at least 
 moderately clever, strong, successful was her George 
 any of these things ? She visited her disappointment on 
 Burke s head, with a bitterness increased, it may be, by a 
 consciousness of injustice; for Anne was an upright woman. 
 But what mother s heart was ever governed by her head ? 
 I have lived a good while and made enemies in my time, 
 and some friends, I hope, and have felt an enmity or friend 
 ship for others, and I will say flat that I never saw a like or 
 dislike that was wholly logical; and if Mrs. Ducey s attitude 
 seems unworthy or incomprehensible, it is because it was so 
 simple and so natural. Undoubtedly it gave her a solid if 
 unacknowledged satisfaction when Sin found out the hitherto 
 reputable Mr. Burke, and judgment overtook him. Such 
 an event always pleases everybody. The just man falls 
 seven times and how the world does love to see him fall ! 
 So, then, nobody so rigid as Mrs. Anne in punishment, 
 nobody so consistent. She would cross the street if she saw 
 the culprit coming ever so far away; she would get up and 
 leave her own front porch, she would turn her back in the 
 yard when Burke passed. She made William avoid him 
 like a pestilence; she had battles royal with her uncle on the 
 subject of his inveterate regard for the young man, his fre 
 quenting of Burke s precincts. The old fellow used to detail 
 them, grinning satanically. I believe the desire to plague 
 Anne strengthened and confirmed his attachment. "She 
 leads Francie a dickens of a life on your account, Nat," he 
 once said; " Francie s got plenty of spunk, you know, in spite 
 of her being such a quiet little thing, and she always has stood 
 up for you. When that first letter of George s came, there 
 was a flare-up, I tell you ! Francie said there wasn t a word 
 of truth in the whole story, George never told the truth, any 
 how; she was sure he was just mad at you because you 
 wouldn t lend him money, or help get him out of some scrape. 
 .Then Anne got up on her ear, and called her a wicked, un 
 grateful, slanderous girl without any affection for her own 
 kin as if that was an argument! They had it hot and 
 heavy, and then ended the way women do, you know, by 
 bursting out crying and bawling, and making up and each 
 
544 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 one calling herself names for being so hateful to the other. 
 If either William or I interferes to make peace, damned if they 
 don t both of em light into us! They re really very fond of 
 each other; Anne s about the only mother Francie s ever 
 known. And they re both mighty good women, Burke 
 the salt of the earth, both of em. But they can t make up 
 their minds to let each other alone, and each one think her 
 own way about you. Every time your name s mentioned 
 there s the same old row." 
 
 Nat listened amazed and rather troubled. He had sup 
 posed that Francie thought about him, as every one else; 
 she had always been a submissive child, never disobeying 
 and rarely even contradicting her elders. But she was also 
 loyal and steadfast in her affection, as he knew; a little girl 
 she had liked him, and it warmed his lonesome heart to think 
 that she liked him still, or anyhow believed in him, in spite 
 of everything, in defiance of everybody. He had seen her 
 at a distance twice since his return; and once came face to 
 face with her at the door of a shop, just as she was leaving 
 with an armful of small bundles; the Ducey carriage, which 
 was very splendid with polished surfaces, and shining, silver- 
 plated chains and buckles, and a pair of champing black 
 horses, stood at the curb. Francie dropped all her bundles 
 with a start ; her sweet little face turned quite gray. Nathan 
 bowed soberly, and stooped down and picked up the pack 
 ages and restored them to her what else should he have 
 done? "Th-thank you " said Francie, in a fluttering 
 voice, and, scarlet now, with trembling lips, she went across 
 the sidewalk to where her aunt was sitting in the carriage, 
 erect, forbidding, watchful. Mrs. Ducey took the things, 
 fingering them fastidiously. 
 
 "What did that that person say to you, Francie; tell 
 me this minute!" Burke heard her ask sharply; indeed she 
 raised her voice rather than lowered it for this somewhat 
 personal remark, carefully looking around, over, through, 
 and beyond the young man. 
 
 "He didn t say anything," stammered the girl, hes 
 itating between them; and Burke, to relieve her, and 
 perhaps also to hide his own loss of countenance, strode 
 off. He would not have thought it possible for so trifling 
 a thing to make him so angry. All the slights and petty 
 
MR. BURKE RECEIVES AND MAKES VISITS 545 
 
 cruelties he had endured were as nothing beside the secure 
 feminine insolence and brutality of Mrs. Ducey s voice 
 and manner ; he was down and she struck him they 
 all struck him. If their miserable weapons had been real 
 slings and arrows, he was a man and could not revenge him 
 self upon these weak creatures. " Francie would have spoken 
 to me, if she had been by herself," he thought; " she couldn t 
 have been contaminated by it. She used to like me. I 
 wouldn t have taken advantage of her kindness or her inex 
 perience; I wouldn t have presumed on it. I wouldn t 
 even have let her say more than a how-d ye-do for fear of 
 giving some of these elderly cats some cause to gossip about 
 her. They might give me credit for that much decency. 
 Why, if I were as bad as they make out, they might know I 
 still would respect a pure young girl like Francie." Sore 
 and sick at heart was poor Nat; all the cynical philosophy 
 he summoned up could not soothe him, and if virtue is 
 its own reward, he found that a very poor and unsatisfactory 
 one. 
 
 Hearing these words of old George s, however, a kind of 
 shamefaced gratification rose within him. "It s a pity if 
 they can t find something better worth while than me to 
 quarrel over," he said, but I think there was a little false 
 humility, in that speech. Francie was his friend after all 
 she still liked him the only woman who dared. He 
 didn t count poor Mrs. Slaney; he had always been liked 
 and somewhat feared and looked up to by chambermaids, 
 laundresses, charwomen, the Mrs. Slaneys of all conditions 
 and shades of rank. And to be sure there was Miss Varda- 
 man; but she was, of course, influenced by Jack, and, too, 
 she had reached an age when she might conduct herself as 
 she thought proper and display a liking for any man she 
 chose, without arousing comment, and and And, 
 in short, if Francie had been forty-five, with crows feet and 
 a pinch under her chin, I doubt if Mr. Nat would have found 
 it so peculiarly pleasing to be championed by her. There is 
 a difference; the girl risked more, according to a woman s 
 code; it took more character. For the idea of anybody 
 making loose advances to a spinster of Miss Clara s type, 
 or of her name being dragged into a scandalous association, 
 was so fantastically ludicrous it might make even the women 
 
 2N 
 
546 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 laugh. Burke absently shuffled the papers on his desk; 
 Francie must be about twenty-one or twenty-two at 
 most; she had a nice, round little figure she had been 
 rather dumpy and awkward at fifteen when she first put 
 on long dresses and a very pretty complexion, and dimples 
 -he paused, recalling her dimples; heigh-ho! Burke him 
 self was eight or nine years older and getting as gray as a 
 badger, and was done forever with girls, women, the domes 
 ticities. And, in fact, he was doing nothing at all, sitting 
 staring out of the window, when Lewis came in with the brief 
 in the suit of Porter vs. Brinkerhoff for alleged defamation of 
 character, and he turned with a sigh to the consideration of 
 other people s troubles. 
 
 It was months after these episodes, and public opinion had 
 been for some time undergoing the change and softening 
 hinted at in the beginning of this chapter when, for a kind of 
 climax to the process, Mr. Ducey came in, figuratively ex 
 tending the olive-branch. William had got a shade fatter 
 of late years, but his pallid complexion was unaltered, his 
 hair as black, abundant, and abundantly oiled as ever, falling 
 in the same rich abandon to his coat-collar; he was just as 
 fond of fancy waistcoats, and looked as trim and as unosten 
 tatiously elegant as in the old days; and his manner showed 
 the same gracious and I am sure, kindly meant patron 
 age. No one would have supposed that times were at all 
 changed with either of them, since the day Burke left the 
 Ducey stable to serve under old George Marsh. For a 
 flash Nat saw himself, a gawky hobbledehoy of seventeen or 
 so, in his ill-fitting Sunday clothes, his squeaking boots, 
 diffident, anxious, hopeful, mounting the office-stool; he 
 had cut his initials with a jack-knife on its hollowing seat, 
 which had acquired a mirrorlike polish, something akin to 
 that which erelong decorated the corresponding surface of 
 young Burke s pantaloons; he was only a boy, after all. 
 He wondered if the initials were there still. He could smell 
 again the hemp and coffee in the cellar; he had an instant 
 vision of Mr. Marsh with the market-report on his knee, 
 his eyebrows knotted over his dingy note-book and stub of 
 pencil; of Mr. Ducey yawning furtively among his eternal 
 memoranda. Now here was William delivering cordial 
 and flattering commonplaces about his ex-clerk s achieve- 
 
MR. BURKE RECEIVES AND MAKES VISITS 547 
 
 ments and abilities, about his office and his practice and 
 everything that was his, exactly as if he had not deliberately 
 ignored and cold-shouldered the young man for more than 
 a year! 
 
 Business was dull, very dull, according to Mr. Ducey; 
 it generally was so immediately after a presidential cam 
 paign year; and, in fact, during, and he might say, before a 
 presidential campaign year. You had no sooner recovered 
 from th ah the depression incident to one, than the 
 next one er set in, as you might say. He thought it 
 was getting worse and worse. He had thought it might 
 be owing more or less, you understand more or less, to the 
 present or the recent policy of the government, and to its 
 future intentions. Now, for instance, this buying of all that 
 territory in the southwest from Mexico, after we had over 
 run and practically taken it vi et armis by force of arms, 
 you understand. He was a believer in expansion, but he 
 thought there were faults in the present ah system, 
 as one might call it. If you looked at the government 
 precisely as you would at a private citizen, and there 
 was no real reason why you shouldn t, no real reason, 
 you would be struck by the thought that with the 
 government business, as with the private citizen s business, 
 expansion could only be carried on by means of ready 
 money. The buying of this New Mexican Territory proved 
 that; it took fifteen millions. Unquestionably a great 
 deal of ready money was necessary to carry on expansion. 
 The result of that invariably was that you were cramped in 
 some directions while you were expanding in others. The 
 private individual unless he was a very exceptional indi 
 vidual with a large capital in hand had to give notes, 
 and ah in the course of time he would inevitably have 
 to meet those notes; and as these times came around, in 
 view of the expenses of expansion, he would not improbably 
 be short of money. "It works both ways, you see!" was 
 Mr. Ducey s triumphant deduction from these arguments. 
 
 Burke waited for more, beginning, however to have a glim 
 mering notion of where all this was leading. There was still 
 a good way to go, for William was naturally fond of words, nor 
 was he the only man of Burke s acquaintance who talked 
 a great deal without saying anything. And if it is difficult 
 
548 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 for many of us to set out a plain purpose in plain words, 
 what does it become when the plan itself is slightly involved 
 and by no means secure of a favorable hearing ? Once, for a 
 while, Burke shared an office with a couple of young fellows 
 about his own age, brokers and real-estate agents ; and during 
 this association Nat had noted with interest the thousand- 
 and-one ways in which men buy, sell, beg, bargain for, and, 
 above all, borrow money. They ranged from the brisk 
 youth who clerked in the other broker s office up the street, 
 whirling in " Hello! Good morning! Got any money ?" 
 Yes and he began forthwith to recite terms and securities; 
 no and out he whirled again to seek some other dealer! 
 They ranged from him, I say, through every imaginable style 
 of person and proposition down at last to the man who 
 needed desperately a loan which he knew he would never 
 repay knew it and knew that you suspected it. There 
 is a specific look about him that cannot be mistaken 
 haven t we all seen him, amiable, nervous, deprecatory, 
 jolly with a ghastly jollity, wretchedly and laboriously confi 
 dent ? He need not be^a rogue; too often he is an old friend, 
 banking, let us hope unconsciously, on that old friendship. 
 Something of this look Nat thought he detected in his ancient 
 employer. Mr. Marsh s unkind prophecies which, how 
 ever, to do the old man justice, I am certain he never repeated 
 to any one else, or publicly where they might have done his 
 nephew harm recurred to Burke in connection with various 
 vague rumors of the street. He waited patiently for the 
 other to get to the point. "Ducey can t expect to borrow 
 of me," he thought; "and he knows I don t conduct a loan 
 business. What is he after ?" 
 
 It was quite absurdly simple when it came out at last; 
 William wanted Burke to get a loan for him out of Mr. 
 Marsh nothing could be easier for Burke, it appeared, 
 nor, sad and strange to say, more difficult for Mr. Ducey 
 himself. "I don t conceal from you, Nathan," he said 
 they had got as far as " Nathan " by this time in revived con 
 fidence and regard! "I don t conceal from you, and I sup 
 pose for that matter you must have noticed yourself, that 
 my wife s uncle feels, or, as you might say, entertains, a prej 
 udice against me. It has increased or er augmented 
 with his years, and of course he is now a very old man 
 
MR. BURKE RECEIVES AND MAKES VISITS 549 
 
 eighty-four, I believe and is very infirm or feeble bodily 
 physically, and ah mentally. His mind, you know, 
 is not what it was; he talks and repeats himself says the 
 same thing over and over, and, in short, has ah failed. 
 Now, under these circumstances, I don t want to do any 
 thing that would appear to be taking advantage of him - 
 that any one could construe as taking advantage of his age 
 and weakness. I don t want to approach him, to to to 
 approach him, in short, for this eight thousand dollars, al 
 though the sum is paltry merely to overcome a temporary 
 inconvenience and he would be perfectly secured, and 
 is in a better position to lend money than anybody I know 
 of. Of course you know that is so; you know all about his 
 affairs." 
 
 "You re mistaken, Mr. Ducey, I don t know anything 
 about Mr. Marsh s affairs," said Burke. "He never has 
 told me anything of importance about them." 
 
 Mr. Ducey looked politely surprised and incredulous. 
 "Why, you don t tell me so, Nathan ? I thought you man 
 aged his er his investments. I don t know why he 
 doesn t employ you a man of your known integrity and 
 ability ! " 
 
 "He employs another man of equally well-known integ 
 rity and ability, by the name of George Marsh," said Burke, 
 with a laugh; "I doubt if he has ever considered any other 
 agent." 
 
 c,"Well er ahem he is a very rich man, at least 
 you know that everybody knows that. But in view of 
 this dislike or prejudice he feels against me, I feel a a 
 hesitation a reluctance to approaching him. He wouldn t 
 listen to me he hasn t any confidence in me, somehow," 
 said William, with some bitterness. "But if you would put 
 the matter before him it s not really a loan, you know, 
 Burke, it s an investment I am sure the old gentleman would 
 consider it. You you might say five thousand, if you 
 think ? you would be more likely to ah to succeed." 
 He said a good deal more, advancing almost too many argu 
 ments in favor of this business transaction; and in reply to 
 a* suggestion of Burke s that he might apply to almost any 
 well-to-do merchant in town instead of risking a refusal with 
 harsh words from Mr. Marsh, entered into a very long and 
 
550 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 confused explanation which did not explain none of them 
 ever do. He was under certain obligations to Mr. Marsh 
 Mr. Marsh should be entitled to ah to first choice, 
 as one might say in these hard times few men, even 
 wealthy men, could spare that is to say, would have so 
 much cash lying idle not that the sum was large, but 
 ah Everybody knowing of the relationship would 
 ah would think it strange that he should go outside the 
 family for a loan particularly when it was so safe and 
 profitable; and that would produce a bad impression, would 
 tend to destroy confidence, in short. There were so many 
 reasons why William should " approach" Mr. Marsh that 
 Burke finally began to suspect the real reason that every 
 body else had already been " approached" in vain. He 
 promised, in the end, to "speak to" old George, and with that 
 Mr. Ducey had to be content. At any rate he appeared so, 
 asked some urbane questions about Nathan s own prospects, 
 gave him a kind message from Mrs. Ducey (!), vaguely 
 invited him to "come up and take dinner with us one of these 
 days," shook hands with extreme heartiness, and at last got 
 himself out of the door and almost into the arms of Mr. 
 Marsh, slowly puffing up the stairs. It marred the exit 
 somewhat. 
 
 "What d Ducey want, Nathan?" said the old man, set 
 tling heavily into his accustomed chair, and reversing his 
 cane to hook the cuspidor into easy reach; "huh? What d 
 he want, hey ? What s he coming here for ? Anne ll give 
 him particular fits if he don t look out." 
 
 Burke told him, watching the hard, square, lined old face 
 with a little humane anxiety, and obliged to acknowledge 
 inwardly that the outlook was not hopeful. "I thought 
 William would bust the business sooner or later," was Mr. 
 Marsh s sympathetic comment. "He wouldn t pay any 
 attention to me. Didn t I tell you that, Burke ? Now he 
 wants to borrow of me, huh ? Well he looked around 
 abstractedly, and, Lewis coming in at that moment, broke 
 off to greet him genially: "How d ye do, Archer? Howdy 
 do, boys ? I can t stay long this morning, just thought I d 
 drop in. I never did like to see a man loafing around a 
 store or an office if he ( didn t have any business to attend to 
 there; and I got to go home presently, anyhow, and see about 
 
MR. BURKE RECEIVES AND MAKES VISITS 551 
 
 something." He never mentioned Mr. Ducey s proposition 
 again; nor did Burke hear of it from the other. 
 
 In fact, anybody endowed with much less penetration than 
 George Marsh, or even Mr. Nat Burke, might have known 
 before long that DUCEY & Co. was in process of collaps 
 ing, like the children s balloons or other inflated toys I 
 have seen, pricked and shrinking to flabby nothingness 
 before one s eyes. It had been a flourishing concern five 
 years ago; what had undermined it? Perhaps " expansion," 
 perhaps, alas, too much confidence in his fellow-man on poor 
 William s part. When at last that grim day came whereon 
 the firm s failure was published abroad, and the receiver 
 took the store in hand, and there was an auction-board and 
 a pestilential red flag on the lawn, and the newspapers filled 
 up their columns with the fruits of their tireless and enthusi 
 astic research, what gold-mines, what wildcat banks, what 
 rotten insurance companies, what swindling railroad schemes, 
 what " Alexandria" and "Wellsburgh" lotteries figured in 
 the tale! Burke, reading them, was reminded against his 
 will of the gambler s cynical aphorism: "You can t skin an 
 honest man." Were not these ingenious enterprises chiefly 
 directed towards getting something for nothing? I declare 
 that is no dishonest ambition with some men certainly not 
 with William Ducey. I see these visionaries as poets gone 
 astray and dreaming of dollars instead of dactyls grown-up 
 boys still looking for Aladdin s lamp or the caves of AH Baba. 
 
 Notwithstanding the dismal publicity of the failure and his 
 own growing garrulity, Mr. Marsh did not discuss it at much 
 length in the office. On Burke s remarking that it seemed 
 unnecessary and a great pity for the Duceys to sacrifice their 
 household furniture at auction, and that it could surely 
 have been arranged otherwise, old George told him that 
 Mrs. Anne had insisted on this measure. 
 
 "Anne s got her pride and her notions of honor and hon 
 esty, Nathan, "he said, not without some feeling; "she s 
 bound and determined they shall pay out all they ve got to 
 the last penny, and satisfy William s creditors as far as pos 
 sible. I said to her: Why, Lord, twon t be more than 
 four or five hundred dollars you ll get out of the bureaus and 
 mattresses, and what s that? A mere drop in the bucket. 
 Better keep em; you can set up your boarding-house with 
 
552 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 em. That s what she s going to do, you know, keep 
 boarders. She wouldn t hear of it. Poor Anne! I just 
 made up my mind, then, Nat," said the old man, sinking his 
 voice to a growling whisper, and looking sharply around to 
 see that nobody overheard what appeared to him a confes 
 sion of weakness; "I just made up my mind I d buy in some 
 of the things myself the ordinary furniture, not the fancy 
 stuff like that French clock or the china figgers on the parlor 
 chimneypiece she don t need them and give em back to 
 her, so s she ll have something to go on. Boarders have got 
 to set on chairs and eat off tables, I guess. It s better than 
 to give her the money twon t cost so much, anyhow, and 
 the things are good. If she had the money, she d give it to 
 William. I guess folks think it s kind of queer I don t help 
 em, but, by damn, I done a lot of helping in times past. I 
 used to help Walter, and I ain t going to begin that over again. 
 They ll get my money some of it, anyhow when I die, 
 and its pouring water through a sieve to begin giving it to 
 J em now. Anne s the only one of the whole caboodle that 
 ever wanted to pay anybody back, or to help out by working 
 herself." 
 
 "This is pretty hard on her. Doesn t she ever hear from 
 George?" Burke asked. 
 
 "I believe she has once. I believe he wrote from Mobile 
 or somewhere, and wanted money. She scraped around and 
 sent him some. That s the last I know." He paused, chew 
 ing thoughtfully. "Say, Burke, did Ducey ever pay you what 
 you spent for boarding George and taking care of him down 
 there in Mexico City?" 
 
 "No," said Burke, and could not help smiling at the ex 
 pression on the other s face. 
 
 "That ain t good business, Nathan," said old George, 
 severely. 
 
 "Oh, Mr. Ducey knows. I sent him a memorandum. 
 He forgot it, I guess ; and you wouldn t want me to come on 
 him now, would you?" Burke said, and laughed outright. 
 
 If it had not been for Mr. Marsh s announcement of his own 
 plans, Nat would never have thought of going to the Ducey 
 sale. Shrinking distaste possessed him at the notion of the 
 crowd noisily invading the house where so lately no one would 
 
MR. BURKE RECEIVES AND MAKES VISITS 553 
 
 have presumed to enter unasked, prowling about the poor, 
 defenceless rooms Mrs. Ducey s room, Francie s room 
 - trying locked doors, exploring the attic and ^cellar, fum 
 bling at the hangings, staring, criticising, comparing bargains, 
 haw-hawing over the auctioneer s pleasantries. Verily, I 
 think I should rather go to a funeral than witness such a 
 profanation of a friend s home a decent family mansion. 
 Every such roof whereunder men have lived and suffered 
 and been happy, has a soul; one might fancy its mirrors 
 reflecting with loathing the strange faces, its curtains and 
 carpets shuddering at the alien touch. Its very shabbinesses 
 move one inexplicably, they speak so of old and dear associa 
 tion. There goes the big leather arm-chair out of poor 
 Jones s sitting-room the chair he used to sit and smoke 
 and dream in ; it is knocked down for three dollars all it 
 was worth, probably to the stout, red-faced lady with the 
 plaid shawl and the feathers in her bonnet; she was their 
 laundress, I believe. The little walnut bureau with the long 
 swinging glass and the drawers up one side was Mrs. Jones s; 
 there is a discolored place on one of its marble tops where she 
 got into the habit of laying the curling-iron down the 
 bureau won t fetch much, it s too worn. The small room 
 just off of the bedroom ? Why, that was the nursery; 
 can t you see the gouges all along the baseboard where the 
 points of her rocker hit when she sat in that low chair with 
 a baby ? And now from the garret they have brought down 
 a whole wheelbarrow-load of broken toys, picture-books, 
 building-blocks, a doll s cradle and trunk, the sight of which 
 brings forth much laughter from the spectators; they bundle 
 all the trash into one lot, and get rid of it to that elderly, 
 side-whiskered gentleman who is the Superintendent of the 
 Presbyterian Children s Hospital. I do not feel much like 
 laughing, I! And I won t even bid on the mahogany chest 
 and hat-rack, although I used to envy Jones the possession 
 of them; let somebody who doesn t know the family have 
 them. I should as lief have a mahogany ghost in the house 
 as that relic, and wouldn t know how to look Jones in the 
 face broken-down failure that he is if he should come 
 into my hall and hang his hat on those pegs. 
 
 Mr. Burke was quite alone in this sentimental reluctance; 
 everybody in the town, he soon found, was going to the Ducey 
 
554 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 auction, some openly and brazenly, some more or less shame 
 facedly curious, some with the avowed intention of buying 
 such and such a piece, some vaguely on the lookout for 
 bargains. It was understood that a considerable part of the 
 Ducey expenditures had gone into fittings and furnishings; 
 everybody hoped they would realize something, but things 
 generally go for a fourth of their value, you know. Jack 
 Vardaman told Nathan he meant to buy one of the black 
 carriage-horses, if they decided to break up the pair he 
 needed another horse for his buggy. "I said to Clara that 
 if there was anything she wanted, any ornament, you know, 
 I d bid on it for her. They say everything in the house is 
 to go, but she didn t seem to care for anything," he said; 
 "are you going, Nathan?" 
 
 "I I thought maybe I d bid on some of the ornaments 
 myself," Nat confessed, a little confused under the doctor s sur 
 prised look; " there s a French clock, and some mantel 
 ornaments I ve always admired," he explained, devoutly 
 hoping he would be able to identify those articles when they 
 were put up. Vardaman, although he was plainly con 
 founded at discovering such tastes in the other, said nothing. 
 They walked out to the house together. 
 
 It was a pleasant, bright May day; the place was already 
 running over with people, who had tramped down the fresh 
 grass a good deal, and defaced the flower beds, and broken 
 branches off of the lilac and syringa bushes for bouquets; 
 Nat noted the ravages with a sj^mpathetic pang. The front 
 part of the house was entirely open; only in the wing at the 
 back there were some closed doors and shutters on the 
 second floor where the family were staying, some one said. 
 The stable was all turned out of doors, alow and aloft; the 
 horses were being paraded for inspection; the vehicles, yes, 
 that very shining, varnished, broadcloth-cushioned barouche 
 whence Mrs. Ducey had bestowed so crushing a salute on 
 him, Nathan now saw being run backwards and forwards, 
 the wheels squinted at, the upholsterings prodded by dirty 
 fingers. The stable had been enlarged since his day; his 
 little room next the hayloft had disappeared. He sauntered 
 to the tool-house, picked up an axe, and "hefted" it know 
 ingly, testing the blade with his thumb. "Look out, mister," 
 a working-man standing by warned him; "nobody hadn t 
 
MR. BURKE RECEIVES AND MAKES VISITS 555 
 
 orter fool around them edge-tools that don t know nothin 
 bout handlin em." Nathan put it down with a half-laugh, 
 half-sigh. He went back into the house, meeting a good 
 many acquaintances, all of whom remarked to him and to 
 each other, "What! You here!" and presently found old 
 Mr. Marsh vigilantly attending to his purchases. 
 
 "Just got the dining-room set the chairs and table, that 
 is she can get along without the sideboard for thirty-five 
 dollars. Pretty good, Nathan, hey?" he reported. "They re 
 solid wood, and cost Ducey a hundred and twenty-five, 
 I know. Bookcases? No, I ain t going to bid on any 
 bookcases," he broke off to announce decidedly, as one of 
 the auctioneer s aides deferentially called his attention to the 
 article next being offered. "No, I don t want em. But 
 as soon as he comes to the coal-hods and fire-irons, let me 
 know, will you? Mighty necessary, coal-hods and fire- 
 irons." The neighboring competitors nudged each other 
 grinning; doubtless they were speculating as to what on 
 earth old George Marsh was here buying for. 
 
 In the front parlor which, even under the present cir 
 cumstances, was a much more splendid apartment than 
 Burke remembered, with brocatelle and lace draping the 
 windows, and a great display of tables, consoles, divans, 
 gilt mirrors, and so on, now huddled into corners and piled 
 up to make room there were collected together on the top 
 of the piano an army of vases, candelabra, and china figures, 
 officered by two or three ornate clocks, which another obliging 
 myrmidon volunteered to get the auctioneer to offer as soon 
 as the furniture with which he was then engaged was dis 
 posed of. And Mr. Burke, becoming, after some spirited 
 competition, the proprietor of about one-third of the assort 
 ment embracing a clock, two tall French vases or urns of 
 a rather monumental or sepulchral aspect according to his 
 own ideas, a Dresden youth in pink and yellow striped china 
 tights playing a china guitar, and a corresponding young 
 lady in china petticoats and a shockingly low bodice 
 Nat, I say, having acquired all these gimcracks, gave direc 
 tions for them to be put aside with Mr. Marsh s goods. 
 
 "Oh my, you d better not do that, sir," his ally, the auc 
 tioneer s page, objected; "you don t want to mix up clocks 
 and bedsteads together. I d better take em out to the 
 
556 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 kitchen, where they won t get knocked around, hadn t I : ? 
 There ain t anybody out there." Nat followed the good- 
 natured lad to this place of safety, himself bearing one of the 
 figures, to the openly expressed amusement of the crowd; 
 and just as he was setting down his burden on the deal table, 
 the door from the back entry and stairway opened, and in 
 walked Francie Blake ! 
 
 She gave an exclamation at sight of him, made a step back, 
 hesitated, then came resolutely into the room, shutting the 
 door behind her. Nobody witnessed this meeting, the 
 kitchen being empty, and, I suppose, lacking attraction as 
 compared with the parlor, where the sale was in full swing, 
 and the crowd very thick. Burke was confusedly conscious 
 of being glad they were alone, although this was hardly the 
 place or time or way he would have planned to meet her. 
 
 "Na Mr. Burke !" said Francie, helplessly. 
 
 "Why, I er how do you do?" stammered the gentle 
 man, turning a fine red, desperately aware that this con 
 ventional greeting by no means explained his presence, but 
 perfectly unable to think of anything else. "I I wasn t 
 expecting to see you," he added unnecessarily. 
 
 "I ve been upstairs with Aunt Anne," said Francie, her 
 wondering eyes travelling between him and the pink and 
 yellow tights. "I came down to get her a glass of water. 
 She doesn t want anybody to see her, but it s no difference if 
 they see me. I didn t know you were here, either at the 
 sale, I mean." 
 
 Their eyes met in silence. They stood in the kitchen 
 awkward and dumb, between them what memories, what 
 lost years, what bitterness on Burke s side, at least of 
 the misunderstood and misjudged ! A petty tragedy en 
 compassed them the tragedy of this kind house; and 
 neither of them could say a word. Ordinary forms seemed 
 wholly inadequate to the occasion, yet ordinary forms were 
 all they had to use. The very knowledge that this young girl 
 had taken his part when every one she knew was against him 
 filled Burke with a passion of gratitude and tender admira 
 tion; yet every convention forbade him to speak of it to her 
 even to let her know he knew of it. The girl recovered 
 self-possession first, though changes of color slipped across 
 her face in that charming fashion familiar with her. 
 
MR. BURKE RECEIVES AND MAKES VISITS 557 
 
 "You ve been bidding ?" she said casually, glancing at the 
 table again as she moved towards a shelf of crockery. 
 
 "Well, I um I thought I d just put these things with the 
 things Mr. Marsh is buying. I I don t know much about 
 them, of course, but I thought Mrs. Ducey might like to 
 have er " Nat began to explain clumsily enough, when 
 she interrupted him in frank surprise. 
 
 "The things Mr. Marsh is buying ? What is Uncle George 
 buying? We didn t suppose he d come. Wriy> he surely 
 can t be thinking of setting up housekeeping!" Francie 
 dimpled with laughter in spite of herself. "Do you mean 
 he got those?" she demanded, eying the china guitar with 
 a new interest. 
 
 Nathan told her, grinning a little himself. "It didn t 
 occur to me you mightn t know about it," he said; "I sup 
 posed old Geo your uncle, I mean, would have said some 
 thing to you he might have found out what your aunt 
 particularly valued, for instance " 
 
 More dimples. "Gracious !" said Francie, with a kind of 
 gleeful satire; "he d never do that in the world. Think of 
 the risk!" 
 
 "Yes, his idea appears to be to give Mrs. Ducey the bare 
 necessities " 
 
 " I m sure it s very good of Uncle George, too. But what 
 a beautiful time he must be having!" the girl said with a 
 sober humor twinkling in her brown eyes; and they both 
 laughed outright. I think they were a little unnerved by 
 the suddenness of their meeting; but in truth old George, 
 thrifty even in his benevolence, animatedly and happily 
 engaged at the only pursuit, the only enjoyment of his whole 
 long life, and one which he must sorely have missed of late, 
 matching wits against the other bidders, saying among the 
 trumpets Ha, ha ! was a figure of quaint comedy even in this 
 grave hour. 
 
 "Then you bought them the clock and the vases, and 
 the rest ?" inquired Francie. 
 
 "Well, I thought it was pretty hard for Mrs. Ducey to 
 go without her trifles pretty things, the kind she s always 
 been used to " Burke said in some embarrassment; "the 
 whole thing is so hard on her, anyhow. And so I I " 
 
 "And so you thought you d give her some of them?" 
 
558 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 Francie finished, looking first at the table and then at him, 
 with a rather troubled smile this time. "I m afraid she won t 
 want to take them." 
 
 "She doesn t need to know anything about it," retorted 
 Nat; "just let em go with the rest with what your Uncle 
 George buys in. It s not a matter of any importance. Mrs. 
 Ducey was really not called upon to make these sacrifices. 
 She might just as well give up her clothes and jewelry." 
 
 "Well, she would do it and I suppose it is right, isn t it? 
 The people ought to be paid, and Aunt Anne says it would be 
 wicked for a man s wife to keep back anything. She wants 
 to help all she can, she says. Only, Nathan, it seems to me, 
 if you and everybody are going to buy the things and give 
 them back to her, she s just where she was before She 
 paused, surveying him doubtfully; she was not at all aware 
 that she had called him by his name. Insensibly they had 
 fallen into the old attitude of confidence. The estrangement, 
 Burke s ostracism, the clackings of scandal, were forgotten; 
 they were absorbed in the discussion of Mrs. Ducey s diffi 
 culties. And at Francie s last words Burke had to smile, 
 noting how characteristic of her aunt was this generosity, 
 this stubbornness, this self-sacrifice which achieved nothing 
 but the making everybody else uncomfortable, this fanatic 
 devotion to an unreasoned conception of duty. Perhaps 
 Francie fathomed his thought, for her smile followed his. 
 
 "Aunt Anne is sure she is right," she said in a sort of af 
 fectionate apology. 
 
 "Well, she s doing all she knows how to help, anyway. 
 She s going to take boarders, somebody told me." 
 
 "Yes. I don t know how we ll manage," said the girl, a 
 little humorously dubious. "Aunt Anne s always having 
 trouble with the servants, you know " she stopped short 
 with a gasp, and a rush of scarlet to the roots of her hair. 
 I dare say the other colored up, too, for both must have been 
 thinking of the same disastrous domestic experiment Mrs. 
 Ducey had made. There was another instant of silence, 
 when it seemed to Burke as if the hundred things he longed 
 and could not find words to say hung almost palpable in the 
 air and then, with a gust of loud talk, half a dozen women 
 from the auction burst into the room. Why should its two 
 occupants have started guiltily, turning even redder than 
 
MR. BURKE RECEIVES AND MAKES VISITS 559 
 
 before? They had not been standing very close together, 
 and all the world might have heard the conversation. The 
 people were entire strangers to both, as it happened, and 
 wanted merely to take a look at the kitchen stove. Nathan 
 was profoundly annoyed; he wished they could have kept 
 out for another half-minute, anyhow. He might not see 
 Francie this way again, for nobody knows how long if ever! 
 he thought dolefully. Here were these cackling busybodies 
 running around, poking and prying and asking questions: 
 "Do you know how these dampers work?" "Well, 
 I ll bet that stove is ten years old, if it s a day !" 
 "Shucks, Maria, you can cook on it just as well if the top 
 lids is a leetle mite warped." "Say, young woman, are you 
 th hired girl? Goin to stay with th fam ly ? TV lady s 
 pretty hard to work fer, ain t she?" "How much you 
 gittin ?" "I know a first-rate place " 
 
 "I ll stay here, I think," said Francie, sending a glance of 
 demure mischief in Burke s direction. 
 
 "I guess Pd better go," he said, part in impatience, part in 
 unwilling amusement; some children had come galloping in 
 on the heels of their elders, screaming and scuffling with 
 rough and tumble play in the corners. Francie followed 
 him to the door and out on the porch and put out her hand 
 with so kind a look that Nathan, holding it close, was em 
 boldened to add beseechingly: "I I ll see you again some 
 time soon can t I ? You re going to speak to me after 
 this, aren t you, Francie ? " 
 
 She made an odd rejoinder, looking at him and quickly 
 away again, with an expression quite indecipherable to his 
 heavy masculine wits. "Oh, Nathan, you are so so " 
 apparently the word eluded her ; she could not say what he 
 was, and went on headlong "Of course I m going to speak 
 to you. I should have long before this if if I d had a 
 chance. There ! " and took her hand away, and hurried back 
 into the house. 
 
 With this comfortable assurance Mr. Burke walked away, 
 blessing the impulse upon which he had bought those gew 
 gaws for Mrs. Ducey. He would have liked to go back and 
 bid in the whole family of porcelain shepherds and shepherd 
 esses if he could have been sure of repeating the last half- 
 hour s experience. But had he really bought them for Mrs. 
 Ducey ? 
 
CHAPTER XVII 
 
 TlMES CHANGE AND WE CHANGE WITH THEM 
 
 CERTAIN cynics have pointed out with much unkind com 
 ment that when an erstwhile prosperous and successful man 
 loses his money, no matter how blameless and amiable he 
 may be, he is pretty sure to lose his friends along with it. 
 The thing is sadly true, but not for the ignoble reasons they 
 commonly assign; most of us have no hankering for any 
 body s fleshpots; all we ask is that every man, including our 
 selves, shall find his level. We feel as kindly towards the 
 poor fellow as ever, but the fact is, not seeing him, we forget 
 him. His name disappears from the club list; he cannot 
 afford the old haunts and sports; he shares no longer in our 
 business nor in our pleasure. It is nothing, abstractly, to 
 you or me that whereas he once had ten thousand a year, 
 he now cannot spend two, we did not value him for that, 
 but practically it makes a difference too great for comfort in 
 our ideas, our desires, our habits, our talk. It is natural that 
 he should drift out of our lives; if, instead of having lost his 
 ten thousand income, he had acquired a hundred thousand, 
 the probability is he would have drifted out of our lives just 
 the same inevitably joining his hundred-thousand-dollar 
 class ; and, if we are sensible and humane persons, we should 
 have borne him no grudge. Let the cynics snarl as they will, 
 the brass pots have gone down in one stream and the earthen 
 ware in another since time began, and it is better that they 
 should. 
 
 So, then, poor William Ducey, having joined that company 
 of the unsuccessful for whom the world has so little room, 
 was gradually lost to view. Nobody knew what he did, nor 
 how he got along; a man past middle life with no particular 
 ability, long in command of an office, and out of the habit of 
 hard work, holding somewhat exalted ideas of his own worth 
 and importance, it is not strange that he could get no regular 
 
 560 
 
TIMES CHANGE 561 
 
 employment. His clerks, salesmen, accountants, the very 
 janitor, for that matter, plain, honest fellows, found positions 
 readily enough; but you could not suppose such duties or 
 such salaries to be suitable for Mr. Ducey. For a while he 
 had an office: "WM. DUCEY, COMMISSIONS, HAY, GRAIN, 
 COTTON, COAL, ETC., WHOLESALE OR RETAIL, ALL ORDERS 
 PROMPTLY ATTENDED To," was advertised in the papers, and 
 neatly printed cards with the same legend distributed among 
 all our offices. The establishment was down a couple of 
 steps into a basement, with a desk and stool, and a fly-blown 
 calendar on the wall, and a square of white-and-blue checkered 
 oil-cloth, that had come out of the entry of their old Third 
 Street house, covering the floor ; Burke remembered it when 
 he went around one day to leave an order for a car-load of coal, 
 and found the commission-merchant paring his nails in soli 
 tude over the empty ledger. The ink-well was dry as Sahara, 
 with a dead moth in the bottom of it, when we attempted to 
 make a note of the transaction; and I think there was an 
 assortment of lottery advertisements and sheets of foolscap 
 covered with calculations within the desk, as of old. Pres 
 ently this place of business disappeared, too, in its turn. Mr. 
 Ducey took a desk in various offices one after another, and 
 went around soliciting life-insurance. At one time he had an 
 Agency for some kind of patent clothes-washer; "SLIFFY S 
 New Improved Circular-Motion Combined Washboard and 
 Wringer used in Conjunction with SLIFFY S Nonpareil Liquid 
 Soap is destined to REVOLUTIONIZE the World of Labor!" 
 William would buttonhole you on the street, he would bustle 
 into your office in all the waning splendor of his waistcoats 
 and cravats, and discourse on Sliffy by the half-hour with 
 many suave and elaborate words. I don t know whether 
 he ever sold any washers; Mr. Burke, not being what is called 
 a " family-man," had no occasion for one himself. The next 
 time he met his old employer the latter had a new agency 
 anewsubject for his unfailing eloquence, " Aerated Root-Beer, 
 a Substitute For Champagne, Impossible of Detection, Health 
 ful, Stimulating, Non-Intoxicant, Especially Recommended 
 to Those whose Principles forbid the Use of Liquor!" The 
 firm of Burke and Lewis bought a quantity of this stuff, and 
 the Lord knows it may be in the cellars under our old offices 
 still! Even the boys wouldn t drink it. Before long Mr. 
 2o 
 
562 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 Ducey had some other indispensable commodity to promote, 
 and we heard no more of the Prohibition tipple. 
 
 These successive ventures might be regarded as so many 
 descending stages in William s effacement. Do you find 
 them amusing, oh, brother Philistine ? I have seldom seen 
 anything more depressing. I think we were all glad and 
 relieved when he came less and less, and finally not at all. He 
 stayed about the house and went on errands and did the 
 marketing, and took a nap summer afternoons on the porch 
 with a newspaper over his head; and was very dignified at 
 the head of the table in the black coat and black satin stock 
 Mrs. Ducey kept in credit by constant darning, sponging, 
 pressing nobody knows what feminine arts. She would 
 not have let him carry up coal or cut the grass even if he had 
 wanted to ; she liked to see him presiding amongst the board 
 ers, affable, profuse in small talk, ready to take a joke or a 
 cigar, keeping up a desperate fiction of the pleased host; 
 and was as fond, as attentive, and devoted if a shade more 
 dictatorial and managing as she had ever been in their 
 young days of love and success. If we were not so used to it, 
 we would see something heroic in the way a good woman will 
 support and cocker up the man of her choice, and keep him 
 not only comfortable and contented bodily, but secure in his 
 own self-respect. She will take up the burden of making a 
 living for them both, and with a gallant and smiling duplicity 
 cozen him into believing he still carries it; she knows the 
 gray mare is the better horse, but she never lets him suspect 
 it, and she even closes her own eyes to it. 
 
 And here, I suppose, would have been an ideal opportunity 
 to study the effect of adversity on different characters; but 
 Burke, having other things on his mind, only remarked at the 
 time, not without a certain satisfaction, that the gray mare 
 was the better horse, as he suspected years ago when he was a 
 boy in Mrs. Ducey s kitchen. I think Anne Ducey would 
 have sooner taken a scrub-brush and pail and gone down on 
 her knees to the Court-House floor than " solicit" people to 
 buy trash, and accept their charity under a sounding name. 
 Nothing in her life became her one-half so well as the spirit 
 and resolution with which she met her troubles; she uttered no 
 complaints, no regrets, no reproaches; she asked no favors 
 and no sympathy; putting her shoulder to the wheel with the 
 
TIMES CHANGE 563 
 
 best possible grace and always turning a brave face to the 
 world. Everybody said Mrs. Ducey kept a good table, and 
 the boarders were looked after so well that even they them 
 selves noticed it ! How much planning and worry and count 
 ing of pennies and physical labor it took, no mere man could 
 guess. When Nathan saw either Mrs. Anne or Francie on 
 his walks abroad, they seemed to his unintelligent view as 
 dainty and well dressed as ever, though I have since been told 
 that their frocks were turned, dyed, pieced, and made over a 
 half-dozen times, and their bonnets were the work of their 
 own hands. It was before the days of stenographers and 
 Woman s Exchanges, and there was not much a gentlewoman 
 could do to keep body and soul together. Miss Blake em 
 broidered beautifully and worked on all kinds of fine linen 
 and baby clothes, I remember hearing; and she also had a 
 class of little girls in " Early English, " as she told Nathan, 
 meeting him one day, with a parcel of Lilliputian copy-books 
 in her hands for the use of her small scholars. 
 
 " Early English ? 7 repeated Burke, mystified. 
 
 " Certainly, " and she began forthwith to chant with an un 
 natural gravity: " Can Nat pat the cat ? Yes, Nat can pat 
 the cat. See Nat " when she had to stop for laughing. 
 Pat the cat, forsooth! What Nat would have liked at that 
 moment was to pat the girl; but as he could not do that in 
 public on the street corner, and as, I dare say, Francie would 
 have screamed for the police if he had offered to pat her in 
 private, the young gentleman had to go without altogether. 
 She should have been teaching her own babies and making 
 their clothes, instead of wasting her life on other people s, he 
 thought, looking after her as she tripped cheerfully away. 
 About this time, people were beginning to remark how queer 
 it was that Francie Blake didn t marry; all her set of girls 
 were wives and mothers now, and she must have had offers. 
 Francie was rather attractive, you know, although, of course, 
 she was too tall, too short, too fat, too thin, too dark, too fair, 
 too something-or-other, in short, to come up to the stand 
 ard of good looks. Yes, it was funny Francie hadn t married ; 
 but probably she wouldn t now, she would want to stay with 
 her aunt, she was a great help to Mrs. Ducey. 
 
 As Miss Blake was the soul of loyalty and truthfulness, and 
 as Mr. Burke himself had tolerably stanch principles, it is 
 
564 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 not to be supposed that, in fear of Mrs. Ducey s disapproval, 
 they tried to keep her in ignorance of meetings such as the 
 last, which occurred quite frequently on the streets and else 
 where. She knew all about it, and would listen, displeased 
 but silent, when Francie or others mentioned it. Every one 
 else had tacitly agreed to let bygones be bygones, and take 
 Nathan back into social favor; as sometimes happens with 
 those gentlemen who shave their heads, wear agreeably 
 striped garments, and practise the lock-step and other health 
 ful gymnastics in the retirement of our government homes, 
 Burke s sentence had been partly remitted on account of 
 good behavior; and he availed himself of, and was grateful 
 for, the ticket of leave. But Mrs. Anne maintained towards 
 him a species of armed truce; he could not visit the house, 
 but he could take off his hat to her in public places, and she 
 would respond with a chilly nod. She would say a ciyil 
 how-do-you-do to him if they chanced to meet under a 
 friend s roof, for, after all, one must be considerate of one s 
 host and the other guests, but he was not to presume to 
 talk to her. If Francie chose, knowing how her Aunt Anne 
 felt, to stop and chat and be friendly and familiar with that 
 man, she, Mrs. Ducey, was no tyrant, she always wanted to do 
 and tried to do what was right ; Francie was not a child any 
 more, and if she would not profit by Mrs. Ducey s experience 
 of men and the world, she would have to find out for herself. 
 Mrs. Ducey was the last person on earth to dictate to any 
 body, or to hold any prejudices. Of course, as everybody 
 was speaking to Mr. Burke now, and inviting him to their 
 homes, she couldn t hold back entirely; that would be foolish; 
 but she must show, nevertheless, that she could not altogether 
 overlook, etc., etc. Thus Mrs. Anne, who, despite her con 
 fidence in her knowledge of men and the world, was about as 
 wise on those subjects as a kitten, and narrow, obstinate, 
 kind-hearted, impulsive, and illogical as only a good woman 
 can be. Nathan subscribed to this wordless peace-pact with 
 entire good humor, and kept his part of it scrupulously; it 
 was not much more absurd than many of our other conven 
 tions, when all is said and done. 
 
 One might ask, and, in fact, not a few inquiring minds did 
 try to find out, what Mr. Marsh was doing all this time while 
 his niece and her family, his own flesh and blood, were having 
 
TIMES CHANGE 565 
 
 so hard a struggle to keep their heads above water. The 
 historian is obliged to answer, Nothing whatever. I do not 
 know that, apart from his purchases of furniture, old George 
 ever gave them a penny, or helped them out in any way. He 
 seemed to think that he had done all that duty or affection 
 required, or prudence allowed; and once, when Burke ven 
 tured to suggest that a regular allowance, no matter how 
 small, might give poor Mrs. Ducey some feeling of freedom and 
 security and be a moral support in her moments of discour 
 agement and weariness, retorted very sharply that he didn t 
 see that he was called upon to make any such provision. 
 
 "I m perfectly capable of managing my own affairs and 
 of deciding when and where and how and who I m going to 
 give to, sir," he remarked pointedly; "I don t need anybody 
 to tell me. People think I m so rich I can afford to support 
 Ducey and the whole lot of em and never miss the money. 
 Well, maybe I am maybe I am; but it s never worried me 
 any for folks to think me stingy. I ve never lost a wink o 
 sleep over that, I guess. I never was much of a hand to 
 meddle with other people s business," said the old man, fixing 
 Burke with an accusing eye; "if Anne wants to keep William 
 Ducey squatting around on his behind doing nothing while 
 she works her head off, why, I say, let her do it! I haven t 
 any call to interfere giving her money, so she can hand it over 
 for him to spend. Where s her precious boy, for that matter ? 
 Why don t he pitch in, and help his mother a little ? S far 
 as I know, the most work George s ever done has been to 
 write home for money. Well, he ain t going to get any of 
 mine, not while I m around to take care of it, anyhow!" 
 He went away in a temper, growling to himself; but the 
 next day came back to his favorite corner in the office, and 
 seemed to have forgotten Burke s officiousness and the whole 
 occurrence. Nat had to acknowledge privately that there 
 was some force in the old gentleman s arguments, testy and 
 unreasonable as he showed himself. Why give money for 
 Anne s comfort which would inevitably find its way to the 
 bottomless pocket of William Ducey ? Asjor George, nobody 
 ever heard a word from him. 
 
 Nobody ever heard from him direct, that is; nevertheless, 
 we were not entirely without news. George was known 
 to be somewhere in the South; and as Mrs. Ducey s relatives 
 
566 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 on the mother s side were scattered thickly about that section 
 of the country, from Virginia to Texas, had all visited her 
 frequently and were well acquainted in our town, and were, 
 moreover, like every Southern family, very strong on kin 
 ships and family feeling, items of information about George 
 arrived at intervals from widely separated points, but all 
 to the same general effect, and were received by the com 
 munity with much shaking of heads, and that solemn satis 
 faction mingled with their real sympathy which is one of the 
 few rewards of prophecy. It appeared that almost every 
 body, at one time or another, had remarked that George 
 Ducey would not turn out well. Now everybody was vin 
 dicated ! He had been met or seen at race-courses, gambling- 
 houses, unholy localities of all kinds; he flourished in un 
 counted bar-rooms; the river captains knew him as well 
 as Canada Charlie was it for the same reasons ? Some 
 times he was very richly dressed, lavish and prosperous; 
 sometimes at the limits of seediness and pawning his watch. 
 In Savannah he stayed at the best hotel, drove a fine trotting 
 horse, wore a tremendous diamond stud, and paid pronounced 
 attention to Miss Willie Rhett she was one of those Rhetts, 
 you know, a daughter of Sibella Rhett, Sibella Lestrappe that 
 was, kin to Cousin Horace Lestrappe at Baton Rouge. 
 Departing from that neighborhood rather suddenly (it was 
 said), he next was reported after a long silence at Vicks- 
 burg, exceedingly dismal and shabby and borrowing of 
 Judge Claiborne Ambrose Claiborne was a kind of cousin, 
 having married Julie Desha, Stevenson Desha s first wife s 
 child, etc. Once George disappeared from view for such a 
 length of time that Mr. Marsh suggested, with a brutal 
 humor, that somebody had better go down to the last city 
 whence he had been heard from and bail him out! 
 
 "And I don t see why you re laughing. It s nothing to 
 laugh at, sir!" the young person who communicated this to 
 Burke rebuked him with great spirit and indignation; "if 
 you could see poor Aunt Anne!" 
 
 " How do you know I m laughing ? It s too dark for you to 
 see my face," said the other (he had been grinning a little, 
 though!); " anyhow, that wouldn t keep me from feeling very 
 sorry for Mrs. Ducey." 
 
 " Well, you were laughing just the same. And oh, Nathan, 
 
TIMES CHANGE 567 
 
 it s pitiful. Her only son, her only child ! And she keeps 
 thinking up excuses for him all the time. When Cousin Eliza 
 Breckinridge wrote that about her Jimmie seeing George 
 lose so^much money at that card game what do you 
 call it ?~f aro ? in some dreadful disreputable place where 
 they played in Nashville, I think why, Aunt Anne just 
 said, H m! And what was Jimmie Breckinridge doing 
 there f It was really a little funny, because nobody could 
 say a word and poor Cousin Eliza thinks Jimmie s a per 
 fect saint. I sometimes feel as if it was better for Aunt 
 Anne to hear even stories like that about George than not 
 to hear at all, the way it s been lately. It s six months, at 
 least. The worst of it is, I can t pretend to think George is 
 is all right, you know." 
 
 "Why, would that make any difference to Mrs. Ducey? 
 Does it hurt her feelings ?" 
 
 "Mercy, of course it does!" said Francie, in surprise; 
 "she wants everybody to think about him the way she does. 
 And I know it s horrid, but I can t I can t make believe 
 to like him. I ought to, but it s just that I can t /" 
 
 "You speak as if it were a very wrong and distressing thing 
 not to be able to make believe," Burke said, and laughed; 
 " is that so necessary ? " 
 
 "I don t know. I never thought about it before. I 
 suppose we do make believe a lot of the time women do, 
 I mean. We have to, you know," said the girl, thought 
 fully. 
 
 "Have tot Why?" 
 
 She only laughed a little, and repeated, "Why, we just 
 have to, you know," and immediately began to speak of 
 other things how hot it was for so early in June, and 
 weren t the stars lovely and clear to-night ? And she did 
 hope there wouldn t be a crowd at the church, but she 
 believed everybody in town was going. This preacher was 
 said to be a perfectly wonderfully eloquent man, and had 
 Nathan ever heard of such a thing as revival meetings before ? 
 
 He had not, nor had any one else in those days. The reli 
 gious enthusiast, belonging to no denomination, preaching 
 in any church, or, failing that, in any theatre, on any street 
 corner, fervent, florid, emotional, working his hearers and 
 himself to strange ecstacies of belief and repentance and 
 
568 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 exalted resolve this was a new figure among us. He was, I 
 suppose, a sort of ancestor of the present-day Salvation Army 
 worker; his rough-hewn creed suited all men; his own hon 
 esty and sincerity could not be doubted, spite of his extra 
 ordinary claptrap methods. Without question there are 
 many of all classes who must cry yowl, bawl, out of the 
 depths, at the top of their lungs, who come before the Lord 
 with rejoicings fit to deafen the universe, who cannot be sure 
 of their faith and hope without making a prodigious stir 
 about it; even in this sophisticated day, our neighbor is 
 constantly " getting religion" and being, for a while at any 
 rate, let us hope, bettered by the process. And that warm 
 June evening, when Miss Blake and Mr. Burke having 
 met by the purest accident, of course, at the corner just below 
 the Ducey house, where the gentleman happened to be stroll 
 ing about after tea when these two young people walked 
 up to Zion Chapel, on Town Street, to hear the revivalist 
 preacher that everybody was making such a fuss over, they 
 fell in with a number of other pilgrims, and heard some re 
 markable tales of conversions and changes of heart. The 
 Reverend Mr. Badger drew enormous crowds, not one of 
 whom knew why he went ; it was hot there was nothing else 
 to do curiosity idleness desire for some sort of excite 
 ment, every one had an excuse. Nat Burke went because 
 Francie chose to go, and for no other earthly reason ; he was 
 not given to pious exercises, particularly of such a noisy and 
 vehement kind. It is more than thirty-five years, and Mr. 
 Burke has never been to another revival meeting; this was 
 his first and last. But that is not the reason why he remem 
 bers it so well. 
 
 Zion Chapel, when they reached it, was tightly packed 
 with very warm, fanning people; and they would have been 
 glad to find seats in some quiet corner whence escape would 
 be easy in case the conversions were effected with too much 
 vigor. " People get to crying and going on like everything, 
 somebody was telling me," said Francie, whispering quite 
 unnecessarily, for every one was talking freely without regard 
 to the sacred character of the building and occasion; to 
 approach the Deity with a certain informality appeared to be 
 part of the Reverend Badger s method. They recognized 
 many acquaintances in the crowd; and, unluckily, some one 
 
TIMES CHANGE 569 
 
 who was officiating as volunteer usher, catching sight of 
 Burke, came bustling and insisted on dragging them to a 
 prominent seat in the front, from which they " could see 
 everything," as he heartily assured them. 
 
 "We don t care about seeing everything," said Nathan, 
 annoyed the more so, perhaps, as there had been some 
 nodding and nudging at sight of Miss Blake in his company, 
 and he saw the ready color deepening in her cheeks; "we 
 may not want to stay for all the the exercises, you 
 know " 
 
 It was to no avail; down they had to sit, with the feeling 
 that two hundred pairs of eyes were fastened on their backs ; 
 and, to make matters worse, Mrs. Ducey herself came in a 
 few minutes later, and, being escorted to another conspicuous 
 position not far off, passed them with the slightest possible 
 salutation to Burke, and a look of icy surprise at Francie s 
 choice of companion. I don t know why both the young 
 people should have felt guilty and conscience-stricken, and 
 wished they were anywhere but in this house of God. You 
 would have thought that the congregation was gathered 
 together for another purpose than to observe their behavior; 
 and, indeed, it is very likely they attracted less attention than 
 they supposed. 
 
 "I used to know a man named Badger once," said Nat, 
 trying awkwardly to ease the situation; "it s rather an un 
 common name. But he wasn t a preacher anything but ! " 
 the young man smiled at the recollection ; "he was an actor." 
 
 "Oh, was he?" said Francie, a little exaggerating her 
 interest; "this one wasn t always a preacher, either, they say. 
 He got converted. He tells about it himself. He was lead 
 ing an awful life, I believe he says. Maybe it s the same 
 man!" 
 
 "Oh, hardly," Burke said tolerantly; "the Badger I 
 knew was no such sinner. He was a very good sort of 
 fellow." 
 
 "But an actor, you know 
 
 "Well, of course he lived in a hand-to-mouth, harum- 
 scarum way. But there wasn t anything wrong with him. 
 Is that the melodeon ? Is that a hymn they re beginning ? " 
 
 "Yes, it s Sinners, turn! Why will ye die? 7 don t 
 you know it ? We ought to stand up at least they would 
 
570 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 in our church," Francie says, looking around with the faint, 
 unconscious superiority of a good Episcopalian. And pres 
 ently we do stand up, all of us; the chorus bursts out, its 
 great sound moving and uplifting even to Burke, who did 
 not know the words, and could no more sing than an owl. 
 But he liked to hear Francie s clear soprano, sweet and 
 weak, no matter what the tune they all seemed much alike 
 to him. " Sinners, turn! . . . Nathan, directing his 
 eyes towards the the stage, I had almost called it! the 
 elevated dais, whereon were arranged a desk and chair and 
 tumbler of drinking water, according to the plain tastes of 
 the Zion Chapel-ites, beheld with a start that tall, lank, 
 dramatically monastic figure, arrayed in a flowing black 
 coat, and incredibly solemn black trousers, stalking across 
 to the desk, standing there with folded arms, in the best of 
 Hamlet styles, surveying his audience with a mystic gaze, 
 melancholy, rapt, remote! The very fact that Badger s 
 name had been so recently on his tongue only added to 
 Burke s astonishment; he was too astonished to be amused. 
 Even the instant picture of Badger as last seen, his face 
 masked with chalk and daubs of red paint, clad in a night 
 gown-like garment, gambolling merrily about the sawdust 
 ring on a spotted wooden hobby-horse in grotesque parody 
 of the World-renowned Bounding Jockey whose Feats 
 have delighted the Crowned Heads of Europe, Ladies and 
 Gentlemen even that contrast suggested nothing comic. 
 And after all, thought Burke, recovering a little, it was four 
 or five years since, a time long enough to work many radical 
 changes of heart, as of everything else. He gave the 
 actor credit for entire sincerity; Badger was an honest man 
 - a very simple, confiding, enthusiastic fellow. If he was 
 not exactly the stuff of martyrs, and would probably have 
 quailed before the cannibal kettle, he was none the less a 
 thorough and purposeful convert, as his whole words and 
 manner testified when he began his address. And if it was 
 plainly agreeable to him to hold, for once, undisputed, the 
 centre of the stage, he was not the first performer to fancy 
 himself greatly in this particular line. 
 
 In truth, Mr. Badger s stage experience upon which he 
 touched with sombre regret and warning had fitted him 
 admirably for this kind of public speaking, where a great, 
 
TIMES CHANGE 571 
 
 resonant voice, trained to distinctness and emphatic expres 
 sion, a certain freedom, sweep, and accuracy of gesture, 
 and some handy acquaintance with the classic dramas were 
 unusual enough and not to be despised. As the oration 
 progressed, from the sobs and sniffs and exclamations and 
 movement here and there amongst the benches, Nathan 
 perceived that the time-honored devices of melodrama 
 were taking effect have they not always been ten times 
 as successful as the closest-reasoned argument ? Badger 
 chose for his text the story of the Prodigal Son, which he read 
 from the Bible with infinite niceties of elocution. He him 
 self had known (he said) a youth who might have been its 
 hero; they had met (alas, my friends !) amid the profane 
 pleasures of the camp at Matamoros the camp of the 
 American army during the late struggle. And here the 
 speaker drew a vivid picture of the vicious delights of that 
 residence, which caused one of his hearers to smile a little 
 covertly. The marble halls of the Spaniard, his gilded 
 churches, monuments of intolerance and iniquity, the riotous 
 feasting, the luscious wines, the seductions of Mexican beauty 
 Burke was amazed to find what he had lived with and 
 escaped; most people would have thought Matamoros a 
 sickly, dirty, comfortless hole where vice might be as rank 
 as Badger described it, but certainly not so alluring. Marble 
 halls, indeed! Nat recalled the " Grand Spanish Saloon" 
 with an inward laugh. He must get hold of Badger and ask 
 him about the Jeffersons, he thought. 
 
 ". . . And when do we next see this young man George, 
 my friends?" inquired the orator, pursuing his narrative 
 in a voice sunk to the note supposed to represent horror 
 dashed with pity, and gazing ominously all about. " Where 
 do we now see young George ?" says Badger, a little louder, 
 and recoiling a step; " where do we find " and at this 
 instant, his eye, roaming dramatically over the faces nearest 
 him, lit on Burke, and recognized him at once! " Where 
 do we um ah Shall I TELL you, my friends?" 
 said Badger, momentarily taken aback and stammering; 
 then he swept on. We saw George at the GAMING 
 TABLE ! We saw the heaps of GOLD a word which the 
 convert contrived to enunciate with a terrified relish, as if 
 he at once felt and feared its deadly attractions the 
 
572 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 players clutching fingers and greedy eyes; we witnessed the 
 losers mad despair, and the winners madder orgies. It 
 was as good as a novel any day, having Badger tell us about 
 George! This unfortunate young person was now in full 
 career on the downward path; I forget what happened to 
 him at the GAMING-TABLE win or lose, the effect was 
 equally deleterious, as our preacher was careful to make 
 plain; but, at the last, after many such experiences, his 
 morals being by now thoroughly undermined, George, 
 reeling to his quarters at a disreputable hour in the morning, 
 haggard, bloodshot, and penniless, we had an awful 
 picture of his appearance, committed the final act which 
 should have plunged him, irredeemably, into the outer dark 
 ness. "Dishonored and depraved, weakened and corrupted, 
 he forgot not alone his duty to his family and himself, not 
 alone the principles in which he had been trained, not alone," 
 half a dozen other things, "but even that feeling which 
 is at once the simplest and most sacred of the human bosom 
 the LOVE OF COUNTRY!" Badger announced thun 
 derously in the biggest capitals. "False to his word, false 
 to the land of his birth, false to the power that under Heaven 
 had protected his infancy, he DESERTED. . . . Yes, my 
 friends, and he did more. He took the money of his com 
 rade, the man to whom he owed a thousand kindnesses, 
 his more than brother, the friend that lay sleeping trustfully 
 by his side, he stole that friend s pay and DESERTED. . . ." 
 And what else George did at this particular juncture 
 Burke missed, for he had that instant recognized with a shock 
 of surprise and apprehension what mutual acquaintance of 
 his and Badger s was masquerading, as it were, under all this 
 fustian. He gave so violent a start that Francie noticed it, 
 and looked at him, wonderingly. Nat reddened under her 
 eyes in his confusion. It was quite half a minute before he 
 remembered that neither Mrs. Ducey nor anybody else in the 
 assembly could possibly know of whom the preacher was 
 talking, and began to breathe more freely. There sat Mrs. 
 Ducey, almost within reach, unconcerned, her whole atten 
 tion fastened on the speaker, a good deal excited by his 
 oratorical arts. And when Badger finally brought George 
 through devious ways to a beautiful and edifying death-bed 
 repentance, Anne, like the rest, among whom Badger himself 
 
TIMES CHANGE 573 
 
 was not the least moved, was weeping openly into her pocket- 
 handkerchief. I believe a good many "went forward," 
 if that is the proper phrase, and were converted in due cere 
 mony that evening. It was very late before we got away. 
 
 (After this evening I never saw Badger again. He called at the 
 office next day, when I happened to be out, and went away leaving 
 a note with many expressions of regret and earnest wishes for my 
 spiritual health and well-being. He continued his evangelical career 
 for some years, settling down at last in Chicago, where he had a 
 "Temple" or "Tabernacle," to which all creeds were welcomed; 
 and died there in 72 of a lung trouble brought on by cold and exposure 
 during his pastoral labors at the time of the great fire. GENERAL 
 BURKE S NOTE.) 
 
CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 IN WHICH WE HEAR VARIOUS NEWS 
 
 "WHAT made you jump that way?" Francie asked, as they 
 waited between the seats for the crowd to thin out. It was 
 a long business, further retarded by everybody stopping for 
 a moment s chat with everybody else; there had been chairs 
 placed in all the aisles, and the attendants were trying to 
 clear them away with a great rattling and banging, handing 
 them about over people s heads. Two or three of the elders 
 or other eminent members of the church were consulting 
 together on the platform; the converts had somehow dis 
 appeared; a surprising air of business and bustle replaced the 
 late hysterical elevation; and Burke overheard two ladies, 
 whose eyes were quite red from recent emotion, earnestly 
 exchanging views on the best methods of putting up spiced 
 cherries, as they edged their way past him. 
 
 "Why did you give such a jump right there a little before 
 the end?" repeated Francie. 
 
 "Did I jump? I I just happened to think of some 
 thing." 
 
 She gave him a sharp look, and then suddenly and most 
 irrelevantly inquired, "Is that the Mr. Badger you used to 
 know?" 
 
 "Yes, it s the same man." 
 
 "Oh, it was at Matamoros you knew him, then?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Don t you want to stop and speak to him?" suggested 
 the girl; "I can go on home with Aunt Anne " 
 
 "Oh, I can see Badger any time," said Burke, to whom this 
 arrangement did not especially appeal. "The revival 
 meetings are going to keep on for a week, aren t they ? We 
 were good friends in his actor days, you know, but maybe 
 now he s a minister he won t be so glad to meet me again - 
 
 574 
 
WE HEAR VARIOUS NEWS 575 
 
 Before he could add any more excuses, Mrs. Ducey came up 
 with her face of calm and ladylike disapproval. She had 
 been talking to some one; there were little knots of friends 
 standing by; and the reverend gentleman, his labors ap 
 parently over for the day, now issued forth from some re 
 tiring room and joined the elders at the foot of the platform 
 steps with affable discourse. 
 
 "You will come with me now, Francie. It s time we were 
 going home," said Mrs. Anne, overlooking Burke this time 
 completely. The young man dropped back embarrassed; 
 but Francie held out her hand to him in spite of a dagger 
 glance from her aunt. "Good night, Mr. Burke," she said 
 clearly and resolutely; and at the sound of the name Badger 
 turned around. 
 
 I think he hesitated for one second. The color came 
 brightly into his face, which had got to looking rather thin, 
 pale, and ascetic in accordance with this new role the honest 
 fellow was playing. Perhaps the hobby-horse and Pantaloon 
 costume flashed into his mind. But it was only for a second, 
 and then he came running over eagerly, and seized Burke s 
 hand with genuine warmth, forgetting all his innocent theat 
 rical tricks. People standing near looked on interested. 
 
 "Captain Burke it is Captain Burke? I thought I 
 couldn t be mistaken. I saw you when I was speaking. 
 Don t you remember me Badger ? Ed Badger ? I m 
 a good deal changed at least I hope I am but don t you 
 remember me ? " 
 
 "Indeed, I remember you very well. You were mighty 
 kind to me when I was sick at Matamoros," said the other, 
 heartily. Badger made a gesture of denial. 
 
 "That was before I had seen the Light," he said with a 
 great deal of simplicity and conviction; "I m a different 
 man now, Captain. You d find me different. Some of these 
 kind friends were here the other night when I told them about 
 it. It s an awful thought to me now that for thirty years 
 of my life I was a servant of sin. But I m not too late 
 I m not too late to save my own soul and help save my 
 neighbor s, I trust, if the strength is given me," said Badger, 
 solemnly. There was no hint of cant about him. I am sure 
 he must always have been no more nor less of a sinner than 
 the most of us an average man. There was something a 
 
576 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 little touching and also a little foolish in his sad self-abase 
 ment; and I am afraid he was not nearly so interesting and 
 likable to Burke as in the gay, haphazard days of his un- 
 regeneracy so perverted are our tastes. Nat would have 
 liked to hear some news of Mrs. Jefferson and Joe, but found 
 his questions inappropriate to this style of conversation, and 
 we might all have begun to feel a certain awkwardness if 
 somebody had not intervened to present Mrs. Ducey and 
 Miss Blake. 
 
 "Mrs. Drake Miss ah Lewis- said Badger, 
 missing the names, but making a brave stagger at them, in 
 the surrounding noise; he shook their hands with immense 
 warmth, however ministerial cordiality copied from some 
 noted evangelist. With all his sincere conviction he was as 
 conscious of his pose as ever he could have been in his stage 
 days, and played the part with an equal care. It was a 
 strange thing to see in this scatter-brained fellow who nat 
 urally, as Burke knew, kept so light a rein on his thoughts 
 and speech. Mrs. Ducey beginning to make some enthu 
 siastic comment on the sermon, he interrupted her gently: 
 "Oh, no, don t say that, Madame. A man who hasn t 
 any training can t do much as a speaker. I am no orator as 
 Bru that is, I mean, all I can do is to speak right out from 
 my heart. As Saint Paul says, I come not with excellency 
 of speech or of wisdom. I find the best I can do to bring 
 people to God is just to tell my own experience, something 
 of what I ve seen and known and felt myself. It s it s the 
 kind of example, you know, that s sometimes far better 
 than precept. If every sinner had somebody to say to him, 
 Look, brother, this is what you re doing Sister, this 
 is where you re going " ; 
 
 "Like that poor young man you were telling us about this 
 evening," said Mrs. Ducey, sympathetically; "I suppose if 
 in the beginning he could have seen what he was coming to, 
 none of it would have happened." 
 
 "Why, was it all true? I thought, part of the time, it 
 was just what might have happened, you know I mean I 
 didn t understand that you had had seen every bit of it," 
 said Francie, innocently. Her aunt looked in horror at this 
 questioning of the reverend word; but Badger, a little dis 
 countenanced, hastily explained that while the main facts 
 
WE HEAR VARIOUS NEWS 577 
 
 were true, he had used what he called " um er poet 
 ical or rhetorical license to to make the moral stronger. 
 To bring out the lesson, you understand. I in point of 
 fact, I don t know how the young man ended," he acknowl 
 edged in some confusion; "I hope and trust he repented. 
 I never saw him after he deserted." 
 
 "Oh, he didn t die, then?" Mrs. Ducey asked, distinctly 
 disappointed. 
 
 "Well er no. At one time I heard that he was taken 
 and hanged by our troops for deserting, but that report 
 was afterwards contradicted " 
 
 "Hanged! How awful!" 
 
 " The wages of Sin is Death/ Madame," said Badger, 
 solemnly. "Only," he added with some embarrassment, 
 "I was about to say that I understood quite authoritatively 
 that Ducey wasn t hanged after all. Did you know any 
 thing about that, Burke ? Somebody told me you got him 
 off got him pardoned, I mean, you know," he explained to 
 the ladies; "how was that, anyhow?" 
 
 "Wh-what?" stammered the other, off his guard, and 
 totally unprepared for this turn. Enough has been said 
 throughout this history to show that in such an emergency 
 Mr. Burke was anything but quick or ready. "Hey ? Er 
 what um ? " said he, aghast. 
 
 "Why, you knew him ? you knew all along who I was 
 talking about, didn t you?" said Badger. He flushed up, 
 glancing from one to another, evidently thinking he was 
 being doubted. That he ought never to have mentioned 
 the names of his "examples" in this or any other public 
 company did not once seem to occur to him. "Of course 
 you remember Ducey George Ducey, you know. I m 
 sure Burke ought to remember him," he added to the others; 
 "it was his money the poor misguided young man took. 
 As I was saying, all the main incidents of the story are true, 
 Mrs. Drake, and were well known at the time. It has always 
 struck me as a particularly instructive example of the gradual 
 decay of principle when not governed by Christian ah 
 by Christianity, in short 
 
 He kept on talking in his distinct, carrying voice, uncon 
 scious of the sudden, blank silence that had fallen on us; 
 he was used to being heard silently; at least a dozen people 
 
 2p 
 
578 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 were within hearing, listening alertly, with curious looks 
 divided between Mrs. Ducey and Burke himself, who, feeling, 
 somehow, as if all this were his fault, looked more guilty and 
 wretched probably than George Ducey ever felt. To-morrow 
 the story would be all over the town, with who knows how 
 many embellishments as if the poor mother didn t have 
 enough to bear with George already and her other troubles! 
 Nat even caught a sly smile here and there; his blood quick 
 ened with anger at the sight. He went up to Mrs. Ducey 
 and offered her his arm ; she took and clung to it ; all the color 
 had gone trembling out of her face ; she looked an old woman. 
 "Take me home, please," was all she said, and Burke got her 
 out by one of the side doors into the fresh air and kind dark 
 ness. They had gone perhaps half a square when Francie 
 came hurrying lightly after and caught up with them, out 
 of breath, but with a kind of composure and resolution in 
 her firm young step. 
 
 "What did you say?" her aunt asked abruptly, in a harsh 
 voice. 
 
 "It s all right. I told them it was the heat, and you were 
 dreadfully tired before you came," said Francie, reassuringly; 
 "Mr. Badger doesn t know anything. I made it all right, 
 Aunt Anne. Don t worry." And this cheap device, which 
 could have deceived nobody, seemed to satisfy and tranquil 
 lize both women! Mrs. Ducey spoke once again during this 
 walk. 
 
 "Is it true?" she asked the young man harshly and 
 abruptly as before. 
 
 "It is true," said Burke. 
 
 They got back to the house somehow, after a walk which 
 seemed to Burke interminable, like the pointless journeyings 
 of a dream. The lights were out and most of the porches 
 deserted as they came along; and I suppose all the boarders 
 had gone to bed, too, the place was so silent. It was the 
 new house to which they had moved after the catastrophe 
 in William s business; Burke had never set foot within it 
 before. "Ring the bell; Mr. Ducey must be up he ll let 
 us in he ought to be told ring the bell," said Anne, in a 
 kind of hysterical impatience. 
 
 Burke obeyed her; but after an untold amount of bell- 
 ringing, it was not William who came downstairs and opened 
 
WE HEAR VARIOUS NEWS 579 
 
 to us, but one of the boarders, a, young fellow whom Nat knew, 
 a clerk in one of the shops we heard him making profane 
 remarks in an undertone as he sought for matches to light the 
 hall lamp. And being lightly attired in a shirt and trousers, 
 he skipped upstairs in a panic before Francie s petticoats in 
 the doorway. 
 
 "Mr. Henderson isn t that Mr. Henderson?" the lady 
 of the house called after him. "Where s Mr. Ducey? Will 
 you knock on the bedroom door and tell him to come down, 
 please ? Tell him I want him." 
 
 "He ain t in," said the youth, modestly retiring behind the 
 bannisters in the upper hall; "somebody came for him, and 
 he went out after you went away, and he hasn t got back 
 
 yet." 
 
 "Went out ? Do you know where he went ? " 
 
 "No. Up to the revival, I guess, though. I heard em 
 say something about it." He vanished. 
 
 "I I wanted William to be here I wanted him to 
 know," said Mrs. Ducey, feverishly. "He ought to know 
 right away. You ought to tell him yourself." 
 
 "Why, what should I tell him?" said Burke. "There is 
 nothing for me to tell 
 
 "He ought to know about about George. If it s all 
 true what that man said about him about his taking your 
 pay, and all. You ought to have told us before. I don t 
 see why you didn t tell us. Of course George just took your 
 money with the intention of borrowing it, Mr. Burke. He 
 never in the wide world would have have taken it any 
 other way. He must have forgotten to tell you about it 
 afterwards. He s nothing but a young boy, and and his 
 character s not formed yet you couldn t expect him to 
 know anything about business obligations he hasn t 
 had any training or experience. But you ought to have told 
 us, and Mr. Ducey would have seen that you were paid back, 
 of course." 
 
 "There s one thing you can t ever pay him back, though," 
 interrupted Francie, with a heightened color, and speaking 
 in a hard little way, entirely foreign to Burke s knowledge 
 of her; "that s for keeping George from being hung the 
 man that stole from him and told shameful stories about 
 him stories that you believed. Nathan saved his life, 
 
580 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 and never let anybody know a thing about it. And you 
 thought you were too good to speak to him. You ought to 
 go down on your knees and ask him to forgive you!" 
 
 "Francie!" cried her aunt. " How dare you speak to me 
 like that ? How dare you ? " 
 
 "It s the truth, and you know it," said the girl, savagely; 
 "George never told the truth in his life, and you know that, 
 too ! How do you feel about it now ? You ve gone and 
 scattered his mean lies all over everywhere 
 
 "Oh, hush! Francie, hush!" said Burke, sickened at the 
 violence of these two naturally gentle creatures, shamed 
 to the soul to behold them quarrelling over him; "it s all over 
 and done with. Let it be. Calling George names can t 
 do me any good. You may say I saved George s life if you 
 choose to put it that way. All I did was to go to General 
 Scott, and try to get him to let the boy off that s every 
 thing I did. Any man that knew George would have done 
 that much in sheer humanity Jim Sharpless would have 
 done it, if I hadn t been there. It s nothing to make a rum 
 pus about 
 
 "You took care of him afterwards in Mexico City. Much 
 thanks you got for that!" said Francie, bitterly. Tears 
 sprang into her eyes. "They re unjust to you, Nathan; 
 they re mean and unjust, everybody is. They they 
 haven t any sense. And you j-just t-take it all, and never 
 do a th-thing!" she sobbed. There was something as ma 
 ternal in her anger and distress over him as in Mrs. Ducey s 
 over George. 
 
 " I m sure I have always tried to do right and be just," said 
 Anne, trembling. "It s not my fault if I didn t know about 
 some things. I couldn t know unless somebody told me, 
 and nobody did. I couldn t help that. I m very grateful 
 to you, Mr. Burke, for all you did for my son, now that I 
 know about it. I don t think it was quite fair to us, though, 
 to keep us in ignorance all this time. I think it was your 
 duty to tell us. And he was paid for all George s bills in 
 Mexico City, Francie, because I sent the money myself. 
 I sent it to George to give you 
 
 "Oh, sent it to George!" said Francie, with scorn; "I don t 
 believe Nathan ever saw a cent of it. Did you?" 
 
 "Why, I I" 
 
WE HEAR VARIOUS NEWS 581 
 
 " That s enough," the girl said dryly; "you never could 
 tell stories, Nathan; it s no use your trying." 
 
 Mrs. Ducey looked at him, and did not challenge this 
 judgment. "I never owed anybody a penny in my life 
 that I didn t try to pay," said the poor woman. She dropped 
 into a chair and put up her shaking hands to her face. They 
 used to be pretty little hands, and it gave Burke a pang to see 
 them now calloused and discolored by the work of these last 
 hard years. " I always pay when I can I ve tried so hard. 
 How much was it, Nathan ? A captain s pay is forty dollars 
 a month, isn t it ? And how much was the other the rest ? 
 I haven t the money, you know, but you you might come 
 and b-board it out," said poor Mrs. Ducey, with sobs. 
 
 If the young man had been a Shylock, she could have made 
 no more abject an appeal. It was pitiful, it was grotesque, 
 it was exasperating. Nathan could hardly comprehend what 
 all this tragic feminine fuss was about; their distress of mind 
 touched him unutterably, but it appeared perfectly unrea 
 sonable. He wished from his heart William Ducey would 
 come; then, at least, they could talk about it, man to man, 
 if the family were so determined on talking, and get at some 
 sort of understanding. It was, of course, very hard for Mrs. 
 Ducey to learn these additional unpalatable facts about her 
 son; but if he, Burke, had chosen to overlook George s 
 obliquities towards himself all these years, why should they 
 take up the question now ? He wanted nothing so much as 
 to leave it all dead and buried, but they would resurrect it in 
 spite of him ! They ought to accept George for the worthless 
 thing he was, as Burke and everybody else had accepted 
 him long ago. Why shoulder his obligations ? Why worry 
 about him at all ? Yet, of course, it was natural it must 
 be natural somebody had to look out for George, he caught 
 himself thinking. In the whole of his own hard-working and, 
 I hope, honest life nobody had ever looked out for Nat Burke, 
 and nobody ever would but somebody must look out for 
 George ! Somebody unthanked and unrewarded is al 
 ways looking out for all the weak-kneed; and such is the 
 eternal responsibility of the strong we forget that, if eternal, 
 it is also wholly irrational. 
 
 "Why, I don t want your money, Mrs. Ducey," he said 
 at last, looking down at her, perplexed and infinitely sorry. 
 
582 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 "I did very little, only what was natural and what anybody 
 else would have done for George; and I didn t do it for 
 pay. As to what he owed me, the poor boy was most kind 
 about nursing me when I was sick, and didn t do it with any 
 idea of pay, either, I am sure. So can t we call the score 
 even ? Let s have no more talk about it. You believe, and 
 you have every right to believe, certain stories about me, and 
 you don t want me in your house as a boarder or any 
 other way. Very well; let it be so. Nobody on earth 
 could think it your duty to make such a sacrifice, and I 
 wouldn t accept it, anyhow. I don t see that what you have 
 just heard need make any difference in our relations. If I 
 had saved George s life a dozen times over, I should still be 
 the same Nathan Burke, whose own life you think to have 
 been so corrupt that you hesitate to speak to him. Amen. 
 Let us each go our way as we did before, and forget this," 
 concluded Burke, looking about for his hat, and a little 
 abashed, all at once, to notice what a lengthy oration he had 
 been delivering. 
 
 Mrs. Ducey wiped her eyes with a fierce movement. 
 "No, you shan t go you shan t go out of this house 
 till you ve been paid," she said with so much of her 
 old headlong obstinacy that Nathan could scarcely keep 
 back his smile. "I ve always done right, as far as I knew," 
 said Anne, vindictively; "here take this it ll pay you 
 and more, I know, because it cost a great deal when William 
 gave it to me," she resolutely gulped back a sob. " Take it 
 take it !" She detached some small object from the 
 collar of her gown, and held it out to the bewildered young 
 man with a vehement gesture thrust it into his face, in 
 fact. 
 
 Francie cried out: "Oh, don t, Aunt Anne please don t ! 
 Nathan is he isn t oh, don t you know can t you 
 understand her voice shattered into sobs; she shrank 
 up against the wall in shame and distress. 
 
 "What is it ? What do you want me to do with this ?" 
 said Burke, helplessly, and took the thing it was a piece of 
 jewelry, as he now saw from Mrs. Ducey s hand mechani 
 cally, and stood between them, holding it, with a questioning 
 look. 
 
 "It s my opal pin my pin with the diamonds around it, 
 
WE HEAR VARIOUS NEWS 583 
 
 Nathan," said Mrs. Ducey, tremulously. " Don t you re 
 member it ? It s real, you know. I I don t know how 
 much it s worth, but " 
 
 Burke stared at it ; he remembered it well. "How do you 
 happen to have it ?" he asked in a strange voice. 
 
 "I couldn t give it up I just couldn t at the sale, you 
 know. I thought I might keep that much, anyhow. It s 
 my very own I didn t have to give up my own things," 
 said Mrs. Ducey, on the verge of more tears. " Anyway, I m 
 glad I kept it now. I d rather pay you than anybody." 
 
 "But I thought this had been stolen. Isn t this the pin 
 you said Nance stole ?" said Nat, slowly. 
 
 At the sound of that unlucky name, there was a startled 
 pause; Anne looked in alarm as if she thought Burke might 
 proceed to some indecent discourse. And then Francie said 
 hurriedly: "Nathan, it was never stolen at all. It had 
 slipped down somehow behind the mantelpiece, and we found 
 it when the men were fixing the new mantel when Aunt 
 Anne had that room done over. There was a big crack 
 behind the old one they had to plaster it up. It was 
 while you were away five years ago. While you were 
 in Mexico." 
 
 After another silence, Burke said, "I don t want this, 
 Mrs. Ducey," and laid it on the table beside her. 
 
 She looked at him in a sort of uncomprehending and 
 baffled vexation. "Oh, mercy, what do you want, then?" 
 she ejaculated impatiently, forgetting that she had been 
 repeatedly assured he wanted nothing whatever. "It s 
 enough to try the patience of Job! I suppose you won t 
 take the pin because of because of Nance Darnell. Of 
 course she didn t steal it I was mistaken about that. 
 I ve|never had a chance to talk to you since we found it, or 
 I d have told you. I m always ready to acknowledge when 
 I ve made a mistake, I hope. But, after all, it s just as well 
 things happened as they did, and I let her go. If it wasn t 
 my pin, it would have been something else, maybe worse. 
 The way she turned out proves that. I always had a kind of 
 feeling that there was a bad streak in her, but I fought 
 against it; I wanted to help her. When I heard about 
 about how she was was behaving down there in Mexico, 
 I was thankful I hadn t kept her in the house any longer. 
 
584 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 I m speaking pretty plain, I suppose, but I can t help it. 
 You forced it on me." 
 
 Nathan did not answer. What should he have said? 
 And in a moment a sudden slamming of the gate and rush 
 of steps up the walk startled them all. Mrs. Ducey was still 
 talking, Francie gazing at Burke with a frightened look on 
 her pale, tear-stained face, the opal pin winking with its 
 uncanny fires from its place under the direct lamplight, 
 when William burst upon them, breathing hard, his waist 
 coat undone, the perspiration glistening on his pallid fore 
 head. 
 
 "Anne! Good Heavens, where have you been? I ve 
 run all over town looking for you. I hadn t any idea you d 
 be at home, till somebody said they d seen you starting for 
 the house. You ve got to come at once I hope it s not 
 too late already. The people sent up to tell us Uncle George 
 is dying he s had a stroke and he can t live. Vardaman s 
 there, and he says the old man can t live. Come along ! " 
 
 " Uncle George? He can t live?" echoed Mrs. Ducey, 
 blankly. "Goodness!" She gathered up her shawl me 
 chanically. "Do button your vest, William; it looks so 
 horrid that way!" 
 
CHAPTER XIX 
 IN WHICH MR. MARSH S WILL is OPENED 
 
 WHEN Jimmie Sharpless and I were in Mexico together, at 
 Tampico and Puebla and whenever the army happened to 
 encamp near a town of any size, we had a habit of visiting 
 its cemeteries, not, it should be said, for the sake of the moral 
 effect, or because our tastes were anywise morbid, but out of 
 the same curiosity that led us to the market-houses and 
 churches, and finding the graveyards twice as significant and 
 interesting as either of these latter. They were all of one 
 forbidding pattern, utilitarian, ungraced by sentiment. In 
 the wide barrenness of that land one would have supposed 
 that His acre might be spared to God without loss; yet I 
 doubt if any Mexican place of burial was that spacious. 
 Adobe walls ten feet high and on one side always six feet 
 thick shut them in; not a flower bloomed there, not a blade 
 of grass dressed the hard, dusty mounds. The population 
 was so crowded in these grim democracies one soon ceased 
 to be surprised that a number of the dead were deposited 
 in cells constructed in that thick section of the wall I have 
 spoken of; and the outer end of the hole being sealed up with 
 a tablet recording the name and age of the deceased with 
 (generally) a pious sentence commending his soul to Provi 
 dence, you might behold them docketed and pigeon-holed, 
 tier on tier, dreadfully resembling a post-office. "But I am 
 afraid some of the mail will never reach its address!" Jim 
 said sardonically, examining the inscriptions. We learned 
 that the cells were rented or leased by the year, like any 
 habitation of the living, the deceased leaving some provision 
 for it in his testament, or laying the obligation on his heirs. 
 Nothing ever changes in Mexico; the cemeteries must have 
 been there in the selfsame spot for centuries ; and, not know 
 ing whether this queer custom was an inheritance from 
 Spaniards or Aztecs or some older civilization still, Burke 
 used to search the stone labels for their most ancient dates. 
 He had a fancy to discover the oldest tenant, and a tablet of a 
 
 585 
 
586 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 hundred or so years back would have moved him like the 
 tombs in Westminster Abbey. Lo, seek as he would, there 
 was not one antedating the last generation! Sharpless, 
 however, upon this singularity being pointed out, was ready 
 with an explanation. "I inquired/ he said, "of a one-eyed 
 gentleman who officiated as sexton at one of these places. 
 It seems they turn em out if the rent isn t paid. They 
 turn out Don Ramon de Silva s old rattletrap skeleton and 
 his mouldering old coffin he is several months in arrears 
 and make room for the late Don Manuel Carlos Derecho y 
 Izquierda, just dead the other day of the small-pox may he 
 rest in peace! He will, as long as his son, young Don Man 
 uel, doesn t forget the rent. But when Manuel s son 
 Manuel comes along, what then ? Shall a man be forever 
 footing the bills of an old party who died before he was born? 
 Grandfather Manuel s tastes were too expensive; he had no 
 idea of what the cost of living would be in thirty or forty 
 years, or he d have thought twice about the cost of dying, 
 by George! I fear old Don Manuel will be evicted in his 
 turn. I asked my one-eyed friend what became of the de 
 faulting tenants ? Sefior, says he, they burn them. They 
 burn them with kindlings, at night, so it shall offend nobody. 
 But, Senor, nobody ever remembers about them, or comes to 
 inquire/ We do these things better at home, Burke. We 
 forget our parents decently, without any disagreeable pub 
 licity. And Pa doesn t saddle any such unwarrantable tax 
 on us; he hasn t left us anymore than we can scratch along 
 comfortably on, as it is. We buy a lot in the cemetery as 
 handsome a lot as there is and we look after it, sir; we 
 have the grass cut every time there s a funeral in the family! 
 Did any man ever know the way to his family lot ? For 
 tunately there is always a plat in the cemetery office. We 
 wouldn t think of turning out that skinflint Jones s grand 
 father and putting Cousin Joshua in his place; and it s pretty 
 late in the day to burn Jones s grandfather that operation 
 must have begun long ago. Oh, unquestionably we do our 
 duty, and we. ought to be thankful that we are so much 
 better than our neighbor Mexicans." 
 
 It once or twice occurred to Burke to wonder what would 
 have happened if old George Marsh had been subject to the 
 
MR. MARSH S WILL IS OPENED 587 
 
 Mexican forms; how long his memory would have endured, 
 and who among the heirs would have provided for the poor 
 old sinner s tenure of his narrow house for as much as ten 
 years, or even five. Truth to tell, Nat could imagine it of 
 none of them, though each had been indebted to the old man 
 many times over during his life, and benefited considerably 
 at his death; and though they were all just, upright, and 
 kind-hearted men and women, no more inclined to greed or 
 selfishness than than any other set of heirs. It is a posi 
 tion which somehow seems to bring out all mankind s ugliest 
 qualities; and as in Burke s occupation of the Law he was 
 frequently concerned with the administration of estates, this 
 melancholy fact was familiar to him long before the Marsh 
 heirs gave an illustration of it. 
 
 None of them were present at the funeral, except the Ducey 
 household; the others, dispersed as they were, many of 
 them hundreds of miles away in Louisiana or Florida, could 
 not have reached the city in time. In fact, there was a very 
 scanty attendance of friends and acquaintances, making 
 that depressing ceremony more depressing still. George 
 Marsh had long outlived his old friendships and the capacity 
 for making new ones. Mr. Ducey, scurrying about in search 
 of suitable pall-bearers, for William was a stickler for the 
 proprieties, and shone greatly in the discharge of duties of 
 this sort, where he always displayed admirable energy and 
 good taste, confided to Burke that it was almost impossible 
 to find anybody who would do. People had ceased to know 
 Mr. Marsh; they were all too young, too busy, too self- 
 centred; and " Hello, has that old fellow gone at last?" 
 expressed their utmost interest in him. Messrs. Burke and 
 Lewis, in default of any one more appropriate, were finally 
 invited to appear on that sombre staff. The office was 
 closed, and all our young clerks attended in a body, instead 
 of taking advantage of the holiday to go fishing, something 
 which a good deal surprised us. They missed Mr. Marsh, 
 the boys said. And, for quite a while afterwards, his old 
 split-bottomed, hickory chair stood in its corner of our main 
 room, disused, in a respected isolation. His landlady, with 
 whom he had boarded for the last twenty years, turned out 
 in full mourning, wept profusely and rather noisily amongst 
 her black crape and bombazine, and would have joined the 
 
588 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 family in their reservation, but for Mrs. Anne s sharp 
 snubbing. The latter s indignation at this impertinence 
 may be imagined. "The idea! Crying around as if she 
 were one of us, and wanting to stick herself in with the 
 family. I suppose she thinks just because Uncle George 
 lived there so long, she can be familiar. I never knew her 
 nor called on her in my life. She probably is certain he s 
 left her something I don t see why she should expect it. 
 He had people of his own, and didn t need to leave anything 
 to strangers. And the way she kept up that sniffling and 
 crying was too absurd just as if she were broken-hearted! 
 I m his niece, and though, of course, I feel badly about poor 
 old Uncle George, I can t do much crying. It s perfectly 
 impossible to cry for a person eighty-six years old!" 
 
 Dr. Vardaman and Miss Clara were there, of course; 
 and Governor Gwynne came, looking much more feeble and 
 broken than Mr. Marsh ever had, although he lacked at 
 least ten years of the latter s age. But old George had hardly 
 showed any signs of physical breakdown even during his 
 last days. "He et just as hearty as ever," the landlady told 
 Burke mournfully; "and never complained of a single pain. 
 That last night I remember his saying when he got up from 
 the table that he was going to get some papers out of his 
 desk and take em down for you to look over the next morn 
 ing, Mr. Burke. He was just as spry. The lamp was lit in 
 his room, and he must have set down by the window to cool 
 off for a little it was awfully hot, you know. That s 
 where we found him, setting by the window. We didn t any 
 of us get to bed till right late count of the heat, and I kept 
 noticing that the light was burning in his room still; I was 
 kind of restless, and every time I woke up there was that 
 light shining through the transom. Last I got kind of 
 uneasy, and got up and knocked at Mr. Sievers s door and 
 asked him if he wouldn t go up and see what was the matter 
 with Mr. Marsh s light. Minute he went in the room and 
 came back and says, Mrs. Woolley, will you please to come 
 here a minute ? I just had a kind of feeling. I m that way, 
 I always feel. Mr. Marsh was setting there in his chair by 
 the window, kind of sunk down in a heap, you know, and 
 breathing hard that way they do. I don t think he d opened 
 his desk at all; he had the key in his hand, and a paper in the 
 
MR. MARSH S WILL IS OPENED 589 
 
 other all clenched up but twasn t any paper out of his 
 desk, it was a letter that had come while he was out, and I d 
 sent Sairey up with it and laid it on his table. I guess he 
 was reading it when the stroke took him. I knew what it 
 was the minute I saw him. You run for the doctor as hard 
 as you can pelt run for Dr. Vardaman! I says to Mr. 
 Sievers. We got him in bed and got the brandy and harts 
 horn, but it wasn t any good. Only Mrs. Ducey needn t 
 think that everything wasn t done for her uncle, Mr. Burke, 
 because it was. Dr. Vardaman said we couldn t have 
 done any more. He died at six o clock that next morn 
 ing. I took that key out of the poor old gentleman s hand 
 and the letter and gave em both to Mr. Ducey, and gave him 
 all the other keys, and there hasn t been a thing touched. 
 Whatever the papers were in his desk they re all there safe 
 and sound. ..." 
 
 All this and a good deal more she imparted to Nat in a 
 voluble undertone while the pall-bearers were waiting in the 
 boarding-house back-parlor with the blinds lowered, and 
 sandwiches, plum-cake, and whiskey-and-water set out for 
 them on the table according to the custom of our day. The 
 hearse stood outside; in a few moments we should start for 
 the church. It was always a chatty half-hour with the pall 
 bearers. I don t now why Mrs. Woolley selected Burke for 
 her confidences; but people so frequently did that nobody 
 in the room saw anything out of the way in it; and she evi 
 dently felt the need of some sympathetic or, at least, receptive 
 listener after her late rebuffs. We buried the old man in the 
 lot in Greenwood which he himself had bought at a bar 
 gain, more than likely thirty-five years before, where you 
 may see his headstone with " George Marsh. 1766-1851 " on 
 it; the lettering is a little indistinct now. " Uncle George 
 always liked everything plain and simple, and we want to 
 carry out his wishes," Mrs. Ducey said gravely; "besides any 
 kind of monument would be very expensive, and none of 
 us separately have the money to put one up. I d be per 
 fectly willing although I wasn t left any more than any 
 of the others to give my share; but you can t persuade 
 all of them to join in." Sentiments which reflected the 
 highest credit on herself and, indeed, on the whole family; 
 for every one of the heirs said exactly the same thing ! 
 
590 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 Mr. Marsh s will had been drawn by Governor Gwynne 
 fifteen or twenty years before. On its being opened, he was 
 found to have left all his property to be divided equally 
 among his six or seven nieces and nephews, Walter Marsh s 
 children; no mention was made of his English relatives; 
 he must have outlived all of his immediate family on that 
 side, and knew none of their descendants. A clause pro 
 vided that "the sums which I have from time to time ad 
 vanced to William Ducey, husband of the aforementioned 
 Anne Marsh Ducey, for which I hold their joint notes, shall 
 not be charged against the share of the said Anne in the 
 division of my estate." There were no charitable bequests; 
 old George s charity began and ended at home, and, 
 considering the more or less needy circumstances of all the 
 legatees, no one could criticise him. The fortune he had 
 amassed by so many years of thrift and hard work came to 
 about a hundred and eighty thousand dollars a good 
 round sum for those days, although not so much as he was 
 reputed to have been worth. In the beginning he had named 
 an old friend and contemporary, Mr. Jabez Starke as execu 
 tor. He had the luck to survive this gentleman several 
 years; and Gilbert Gwynne told me with laughter he re 
 membered old George coming into their office shortly after 
 Starke s death, and, after carefully inquiring whether an 
 erasure would make any legal difficulty in his will, and ex 
 plaining that he wanted to appoint somebody in the dead 
 man s place "he went to work on it with his old horn- 
 handled penknife, Burke. He said he d just leave the rke 
 on the end of the surname as that would save scratching; 
 but I m afraid he had a pretty hard time hitching the rest 
 of the new name on in front. You can scarcely read it." 
 There could be no doubt of Mr. Marsh s intention, however, 
 as, at some later date, he had added at the bottom of the page 
 in a hand still firm and legible at fourscore: "I hereby ap 
 point Nathan Burke, Esq., my executor; and I desire that no 
 bond be required of him." 
 
 We cannot suppose this choice to have been the most 
 agreeable in the world to Mrs. Anne Ducey. She had to sub 
 mit to it; and allowed Burke to come to the house in the 
 course of business, and went herself to the office to sign 
 papers, on the principle that what can t be cured must be 
 
MR. MARSH S WILL IS OPENED 591 
 
 endured. One of the first questions she asked, with a certain 
 perceptible suspicion, was what that phrase " without 
 bond" meant exactly. Burke explained. 
 
 "It s only an expression of confidence, Mrs. Ducey," he 
 added, reddening a little, "as it happens an executor is 
 obliged to give bond in this State. But Mr. Marsh didn t 
 know that." 
 
 "H m!" said Mrs. Anne, "then it doesn t amount to any 
 thing after all, one way or the other ? I mean it don t make 
 any difference to anybody?" 
 
 "To nobody but me," said Nat. And perhaps something 
 in the young fellow s face struck Mrs. Ducey, for, after going 
 out of the office and downstairs into the street, she suddenly 
 and quickly came back again, her black mourning skirts 
 flowing and rustling with that slight, dainty noisiness so 
 characteristic of her. She went impulsively up to the desk. 
 
 "I I m afraid you ll think I meant something, Nath 
 Mr. Burke, by what I said just now. I was just thinking 
 maybe it sounded to you as if I meant something. But I 
 didn t, you know. I m sure we re all satisfied with the way 
 you re doing everybody in the family is satisfied." She 
 held out her hand to him, troubled, anxious, equally generous 
 and tactless; they shook hands for the first time in five 
 years. 
 
 If, however, the family were satisfied with Mr. Burke s 
 administration, and a number of them wrote to ask who 
 "this man Burke" was, they were not by any means so 
 with the will itself, although you might have thought it, on 
 the face of it, as fair and kindly meant an instrument of the 
 sort as ever was invented. Almost any one of the Marsh 
 heirs, I think, could have disposed of the property better. 
 Before long letters began to crowd in, complaining, inquiring, 
 expressing the most profound regret and astonishment that 
 Uncle George had thought it necessary to say this, to do 
 that, to leave written down the other. Nobody wanted 
 to make trouble, for everybody hoped it would be under 
 stood that they were not in the least disappointed, 
 for Heaven knew they had never expected a penny 
 from Mr. Marsh, and the old gentleman had been most 
 generous, but they would merely like to have it ex 
 plained why, etc., etc.? It was a well-known fact all the 
 
592 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 family knew it that Uncle George had taken advantage of 
 his brother s widow, Grandma Marsh, when he wound up 
 Grandpa s estate, so that, after living in the greatest luxury, 
 she had been obliged to scrimp along in the smallest possible 
 way for years. And they were glad to see that the old man 
 had done the right thing at last, as far as he knew how, by 
 leaving his property to be divided among her children; but 
 how did it happen that, etc., etc.? Nat was amazed to find 
 out to how many different people Mr. Marsh had been in 
 debted for his rise in the world. So-and-So s husband had 
 gone to the rescue, and practically saved George from ruin 
 during the financial panic of 1820. Such-a-One s father had 
 absolutely made Mr. Marsh by introducing him to the gov 
 ernor of Louisiana and other influential persons to whom he 
 could lend money. Somebody else had pointed his atten 
 tion to a vast cotton speculation on which he cleared thou 
 sands. Was there ever such a lucky man in his advisers and 
 friends ? And alas for these latter ! They saved him, them 
 selves they could not save; they all died leaving their families 
 poor as church-mice ! 
 
 Mrs. Ducey herself was very surprised and resentful upon 
 hearing that her son, Uncle George s own namesake, had not 
 been separately and handsomely remembered; not that she 
 was disappointed, or expected anything more than she had a 
 right to. Uncle George had always been very good to her; he 
 simply wouldn t let her take care of him, although she would 
 have loved to do it, and she knew it looked queer to people 
 that she didn t. But he had never cared for Georgie, and 
 had never done him justice. She knew Georgie hadn t 
 always acted right, but he was too young yet to be judged, 
 or found fault with, and, anyhow, he wasn t any worse than 
 other young men nor indeed half so bad and she cer 
 tainly thought Uncle George might have been more consist 
 ent and less prejudiced. As for that about those notes not 
 having to be paid back, or charged, or whatever the term 
 was, she thought it was perfectly horrid of him to have had 
 that put in, when he knew it would be published when the 
 will was probated, and might injure William in a business 
 way very much. If he didn t want the money, why didn t 
 he burn the notes up, and then there couldn t have been any 
 talk about it? There was, however, less talk about it than 
 
MR. MARSH S WILL IS OPENED 593 
 
 poor Anne supposed, for that William Ducey was in old man 
 Marsh s debt hundreds and even thousands of dollars was 
 no news to any one, and hardly aroused a single comment; 
 and it is only fair to say that not one of the other heirs, with 
 all their questions and objections, ever found fault with that 
 provision of the will, or even remarked on it. 
 
 From all this it will be seen that every Marsh heir had a 
 solid moral right to his share, so that there was really no 
 occasion for them to express much gratitude towards the 
 dead man, or to cherish his name, or do anything, in short, 
 but forget him as quickly and conveniently as might be. 
 After all, he had been a hard and unlovable man; it would 
 not have been in nature for people to remember him long or 
 kindly. Mr. Burke simplified the situation wonderfully by 
 explaining to the more belligerent of his correspondents, who 
 perhaps estimated their claims a little too high and threat 
 ened legal proceedings, that any attempt to break the will 
 would, under our laws, involve a recognition of the English 
 heirs, who might be legion and would have equal rights; and 
 that, in his opinion, half a loaf was ever so much better 
 than no bread arguments of which everybody at once 
 perceived the force ! 
 
 He was surprised to find that Mr. Marsh s desk and 
 papers, which Nat remembered as the only neat, tidy, and 
 well-ordered thing about the old man, were in a good deal of 
 confusion although nothing was missing, and much had been 
 carefully treasured up which could not possibly be of any use 
 to old George himself or any one else. Dozens of those 
 greasy old pocket-books in which he was so fond of making 
 calculations stacks of the ancient ledgers and account- 
 books of DUCEY & Co., wherein Burke recognized his own 
 entries of almost fifteen years back packs of ragged, yel 
 lowing letters half a century old he went through them all, 
 gaining, unconsciously perhaps, a more intimate knowledge 
 still of George Marsh s life and character. Locked up in a 
 separate tin box were a number of deeds, mortgages, ab 
 stracts of title which may have been those very " papers" 
 the old man was forever planning to have him "look over." 
 Nathan knew something about them already; they were all 
 on record, and once upon a time he had been quite diligent 
 to search the county books and find out all he could about 
 2Q 
 
594 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 Nathan Granger and the lands in the Refugee Tract. Haven t 
 we all had our dreams, eh ? In youth, at any rate ? There is 
 something fine, even to the most practical and prosaic of us, 
 in fancying one s self for a moment a disinherited hero, 
 coming into his own again. I have seen the thing happen 
 on the stage and in countless novels. The rightful heir 
 brings out a " paper" that proves everything; all hostile 
 claims are whiffed away like gossamer; the illegal possessors 
 of the title and estates are turned out neck and heels 
 hurrah for Right, Justice, the Law ! Burke had long since 
 put all these gilded notions by; he read the deeds with a 
 grave curiosity. And it was while he was thus occupied, 
 sitting alone in the office one day, that he received a visit 
 from, of all men in the world, Liph Williams, whom he had 
 not seen for years. 
 
 Liph was hale and hearty; and, in fact, he could not have 
 been over fifty, but, like all his kind, he had begun life early 
 and aged long before his proper time. He had grandchil 
 dren already, some of them grown up, and he talked like a 
 Methuselah. Mrs. Williams was dead; and Mrs. Darce, too, 
 at the age of pretty nigh a hundred, Liph reckoned; she 
 had outlived her daughter a year or two. He himself had 
 had a right smart spell uv fever, didn t know ezzactly what 
 you d call it, but when he got up, I swanny, he was plumb 
 deef in both ears! Uv course, it wored off after erwhile, 
 but he was a leetle deef still. Didn t know whether it was 
 th fever, er th med cine th doctor give him. What ? Ye 
 gotter speak a leetle louder, Nat. 
 
 You had to roar, in truth; and the weather being warm 
 and all the windows wide open, Nathan wondered with in 
 ward amusement how the passers-by would construe the 
 racket. "I hope Liph hasn t any secrets to tell," he said 
 to himself. The deefness had not wored off quite so much as 
 Liph believed, and his own voice was loud, high-pitched, and 
 monotonous, as those of deaf people commonly are. 
 
 " Yeh needn t ter shout at me," he explained a little testily, 
 observing the effort Burke was making; "jest speak a leetle 
 loud, y know. Well, well, it s kinder good ter see ye, Nat; 
 I ain t seen yeh sence yeh come home from th war n got 
 th sword give ye. I was thar, y know, bellerin f er Fightin 
 Burke th loudest one in th crowd, I guess. When ye come 
 
MR. MARSH S WILL IS OPENED 595 
 
 out at th top of the State-House steps after they done it, 
 y know." 
 
 "I remember. You came around to see me afterwards," 
 bawled Nathan. 
 
 "Uh-huh, that s so. We had a real nice time, talkin , 
 didn t we, bout pore Nance Darnell, V oF Jake V ol times," 
 said Liph, with unconscious irony. "Yes, we hed a good 
 talk." 
 
 "You ought to come in town oftener, Liph." 
 
 "Well, there ain t anything fer me ter do here, an nobody 
 much to see," observed the other, tactfully; "there s ben a 
 lot uv folks died here lately, Nat. I ve allus noticed they go 
 that way; kinder die off in droves, all of em that are bout 
 of an age. OF man Marsh he held on longer n most. Did 
 he leave much, Nathan?" 
 
 "Yes, he left a good deal." 
 
 "They s a sight of relatives, I ve heerd tell. I guess it 
 won t amount to no great lot apiece, come to divide it round 
 among em all, hey?" 
 
 "Oh, everybody will get something." 
 
 Liph settled back in his chair, baffled. "Pretty dern 
 pertickler, ain t ye?" he said sulkily; and then a new expres 
 sion came into his face. He cleared his throat, and hitched 
 closer to Burke s desk. " Nat," he said in what he meant for 
 a confidential whisper you could have heard it in the 
 street! "ain t you goin ter do anything bout that? 
 Bout them Refugee claims, yeh know?" 
 
 "Hey? What about them? Do what?" said Nathan, 
 surprised and taken aback. 
 
 "Why, Lord love you, I know all bout em. Bout yer 
 Grandpa Granger owning that there proputty in th Refugee 
 Track n all Slemm, he told me," Liph said with impa 
 tience; "yeh don t hev ter be so almighty close-mouthed. 
 That proputty had orter be yourn, by rights, Nathan. 
 Ain t you goin ter put in no claim? Now would be a first- 
 rate time, seems to me." 
 
 Burke considered the other a minute in a thoughtful silence. 
 Then, "I d like to know what Slemm told you, Liph," he 
 said. 
 
 "Jest what I m sayin jest what I m tellin ye," cried 
 out Williams, eagerly; "I wouldn t make no mistake bout 
 
596 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 a thing like that, would I? He said they was a lot uv land 
 in th Refugee Track that th Gov ment give yer gran ther 
 back in th Revolution time, becuz he d quit Canady where 
 he was born n lived till he was a man grown becuz he d 
 quit there count uv bein agin th oP country in th fight. 
 He said th Gov ment done th same for a hull passel uv folks 
 Refugees, they called em. He said yer grandpaw set 
 tled in New York State first, n then he moved to Penn- 
 sylvany, n then I s pose he thort he might s well come 
 n hev a look at his land that th Gov ment give him. An 
 then Slemm said he up n died fore he ever laid eyes on it - 
 died uv th cholery when they hed a kinder pest uv it over 
 to Steubenville, er somewhere near there. Slemm he said th 
 childern was all minors at th time, n he guessed nobody 
 knew much bout th land, er they didn t know enough ter 
 keep holt uv it, anyhow. He said he hedn t kep track uv all 
 uv em ; he thort they mostly died er driftedoff somewhere. But 
 yer maw was one; he hed her all down, n knew she was 
 married ter John Burke, n all there was ter know bout her. 
 Why, I remember yer maw, Nathan, but we didn t know 
 nothin bout her people; she was a pore, sickly little thing 
 didn t live no time. OP Mam Darce she told Slemm a good 
 deal, y know. I ric lect th first time he come we sus- 
 picioned he didn t mean you no good, but when we got to 
 knowin him better we found out he was a real nice gentleman. 
 He jest wanted ter see you righted, that s all." 
 
 "Very kind of Mr. Slemm, I m sure," said Burke, dryly. 
 
 "Why, warn t it all so, Nat?" 
 
 "Oh, yes, it s true or mostly true." 
 
 "Well, then, ain t you goin to do somethin bout it, 
 Nathan? Slemm he was a lawyer - course I don t know 
 how good a lawyer, but, anyway, he d oughter know what he 
 was talking bout - n he said that every man Jack 
 that ownded a title that went back to Granger could be lawed 
 out uv th proputty easy as easy! Becuz he said oP man 
 Granger never sold a foot uv it. It was just there, n no 
 body payin any tention to it, till some slick feller come along 
 at th time they was layin th city out, y know, n claimed 
 ter be Granger s agent, n sold th hull track, n pocketed th 
 money. Slemm said th deeds that feller give I ve plumb 
 f ergot his name " 
 
MR. MARSH S WILL IS OPENED 597 
 
 "Name was Strawbridge I have seen it on the records," 
 Burke said. 
 
 "Yes, that was it, Strawbridge. Slemm said his deeds 
 wasn t worth a damn; only as long as they wasn t any Grang 
 ers turning up ter make a fuss, folks jest moved in n settled 
 up all over, V bought V sold time n time agin. He said 
 you could sue em all, n git it all back." 
 
 "And I suppose Mr. Slemm would be willing to conduct the 
 case?" 
 
 "Well, yes," Liph admitted with a grin; "uv course he 
 wanted to make somethin out uv it. That s all right, ain t 
 it, Nat? I don t see no harm in that. Man s got to live. 
 But if ye don t like him, ye could do yer own lawin , an 
 twouldn t cost ye nothin . Only Slemm he knew all bout 
 who th proputty owners was now, n how they d bought it, 
 n everything. OP man Marsh ownded more n three-fift s 
 uv it, he said. That s why seems to me twould be a pretty 
 good time right now to begin perceedings, Nathan. Ye c ld 
 git at th heirs so easy." 
 
 "I knew all about it long before I ever heard of Slemm. I 
 found it out ten or twelve years ago when I was reading law 
 in Governor Gwynne s office," said Nat; "and if I didn t 
 bring action then, I m hardly likely to now. It s not so easy 
 as you think to make good a claim like that, Liph, after all 
 these years." 
 
 "Well, but, my Lord, Nathan, why not? Tain t as if 
 you was tryin ter chisel em outer it; it s yourn, fair n 
 square. It Id be a pilin lot uv money; it Id make a rich 
 man of ye." 
 
 "I don t know that I want a piling lot of money and 
 I d much rather make a rich man of myself, without that 
 kind of help," said Burke, part vexed, part amused. There 
 could be no doubting the sincerity and single-heartedness of 
 Williams s interest; he had been gradually growing more and 
 more excited, raising his voice and thumping his hand down 
 on the table to underscore his statements. It was nearing 
 the hour of the afternoon when people would be coming in, 
 and Burke, with one ear alert for the opening door in the 
 outer office, found the conversation entirely too personal for 
 publicity. 
 
 "You act plumb foolish," said the other, in a temper; "uv 
 
598 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 course I know er I kin guess why you didn t come 
 on oP Marsh fer yer proputty. Yeh thort ye was beholding 
 to him. Ye allus was a good sort of boy, Nat, V ye allus 
 let yourself be put upon. OP George didn t make no bad 
 bargain when he took n put you in his office, n th oP 
 skeezicks knew it. You ve paid him out a dozen times; ye 
 did two men s work n got a boy s wages 
 
 "Bosh! You don t know anything about it, Liph," said 
 Nat, good-humoredly; "wait a minute, will you? I think 
 there s somebody outside." But Liph enjoyed the deaf 
 man s advantage; he went on talking, and was talking still 
 when Burke, finding the place empty after all, came back. 
 
 " Ye ain t anyways beholding to the Duceys n th 
 rest uv em that 7 kin see. Ye ain t got any call ter give up 
 what s yourn to them, ner ter be so tender uv em less n 
 you re goin ter marry that little girl that little Francie 
 Blake, like somebody was tellin me. Is that so, Nat?" 
 
 "That s nobody s business but mine," shouted out Mr. 
 Burke, fiercely, finding himself all at once extremely warm 
 about the ears "and hers," he added hurriedly. 
 
 "Well, there! I didn t mean no harm askin . It s jest 
 what I heerd somebody say. Folks will talk, y know. They 
 talked like all-possessed bout you n th minister s girl. 
 But bout yer proputty - 
 
 "I ll tell you what, Liph, I ll wait anyhow till these Allen 
 claims are settled, and see how they turn out. They re all 
 located in the Refugee Tract, too, you know, and it s very 
 much the same sort of case," said Burke, glad to return to the 
 first subject; "and after that, if I feel encouraged " 
 
 "Lordy, Nathan, they ll be pottering along with them 
 Allen heirs from now till dqomsday they ve ben at it two- 
 three years already!" ejaculated Liph, in dismay. 
 
 "Well?" said the other, grinning; and Williams, seeing 
 the joke, had to grin, too. 
 
 " Twouldn t be that way with yourn, though," he said, 
 taking his leave; "yourn s lots straighter claim n what 
 theirs sets up to be. I wisht you d do it, Nat, I wisht you 
 would." 
 
CHAPTER XX 
 IN WHICH THE GRANGER CLAIMS ARE SETTLED 
 
 MR. BURKE turned again to his occupation of sorting out 
 the Marsh papers after Williams s departure with a great ap 
 pearance of zeal and business, so that Lewis, presently coming 
 in from the Court-House, must have been profoundly im 
 pressed. But I believe that Nat had not changed docu 
 ments for a half-hour, and the set phrases of the deed of sale 
 which happened to be lying under his eyes all that time con 
 veyed nothing whatever to his mind. He read and re-read 
 mechanically that Hiram Small for, and in consideration of, 
 the sum of eight hundred dollars ($800.00) paid to him by 
 George Marsh, did hereby give, grant, sell, convey, and assign 
 to the said George Marsh, his heirs and assigns forever, the 
 property herein named and described, being Lot 15 on the 
 plat of the southwest quarter of the northwest half . . . 
 known as McBride s Half-Section (No. 26) . . . sixty-two 
 and one-half feet fronting on High Street, and one hundred 
 and eighty-seven feet fronting on South Street, measured in 
 a line running due east from the junction of the above-named 
 streets to Pickering s Alley, also sometimes called Luther s 
 Alley. . . . 
 
 And how on earth (he thought) had that rumor about 
 Francie and himself been started? It was absolutely with 
 out foundation oh, absolutely! Ridiculous! Unkind! 
 Neither one of them was thinking of such a thing at least 
 It must be pretty widespread to have reached Liph Will 
 iams; but Burke & Lewis had an unusually extensive prac 
 tice among the country people; and country people are 
 active gossips. It would be very annoying to Francie if she 
 should hear of it somebody might be stupid or impertinent 
 enough to blurt it out to her face in just this same way. But 
 he would protect her from that in er in some way or 
 other; he would see that she wasn t made uncomfortable. 
 His going to the house so often nowadays doubtless gave 
 
 599 
 
600 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 color to the report; but he merely went on business, and, good 
 heavens, if people could only see her when she met him! 
 How she treated him, how indifferent and cool and unem 
 barrassed she was with him if people could only see that, 
 why why, they d soon see ! She didn t care a pin about 
 him, except for old times sake heigh-ho! Lewis called to 
 him from the outer office, and he roused with a start and a 
 guilty feeling, applying himself once more to the property 
 herein named and described . . . and from thence due north 
 on said Pickering s or Luther s Alley sixty-eight feet and five 
 inches . . . 
 
 "Look here, this must be yours. Have you missed any 
 thing?" asked his partner; and he tendered Burke a crum- 
 pled-up envelope with one end torn off, addressed to George 
 Marsh, Esq. "It was lying on the table, but the postman 
 didn t bring it, for it s an old letter one of the old man s, I 
 suppose." 
 
 "I suppose so. There are dozens here, none of em of any 
 importance. I ll have em seeded around all over the whole 
 place, if I m not more careful," said the other and looked at it 
 carelessly. He was thinking of something which, upon the 
 twentieth reading of Hiram Small s deed of sale, had finally 
 forced itself on his attention. The lot on the corner of High 
 and South was now owned and occupied by Mr. Michael Shea 
 of the Golden Eagle Saloon and Billiard Parlors, with a very 
 busy front entrance on High Street, and a no less busy rear 
 door on the alley; it was considered one of the best (finan 
 cially, so to speak) in town, and worth several times eight 
 hundred, or eight thousand dollars, Mr. Marsh himself hav 
 ing sold it at an unheard-of profit ten or twelve years before. 
 But now, as he read, a recollection of recent litigation con 
 nected with Shea and his Golden Eagle struggled to the sur 
 face of Burke s mind. Various patches of property across 
 the way or in the immediate neighborhood figured, he remem 
 bered, in the often-recited claims of the Allen heirs; there 
 were a dozen or more defendants Governor Gwynne, who 
 owned that piece next door with the shoe shop, was one, 
 Joshua Barker, Dry-Goods & Notions, another Nathan 
 could not at the moment recall all the names, but felt certain 
 that Shea was one. It was worthy of remark that the Allen 
 heirs, under the judicious guidance of legal advisers such as 
 
THE GRANGER CLAIMS ARE SETTLED 601 
 
 Messrs. Wylie & Slemm, without doubt, found fault only 
 with titles to the most valuable and centrally located prop 
 erty in town, and brought suit by preference against men of 
 wealth and note or notoriety. "I should like to see 
 Small s abstract it must be here," Burke thought, search 
 ing amongst the long legal envelopes and bundles tied up with 
 soiled ends of tape; "old George said he had kept clear of 
 buying anything with a title from Allen but he might have 
 forgotten. The old fellow did forget towards the last of his 
 life. These Allen heirs wouldn t be worrying around with 
 Shea though, unless "he paused. He had found, not the 
 abstract, but another paper a copy of a deed from George 
 Marsh to Michael Shea warranting the title to " Lot 15 ... 
 sixty-two and one-half feet fronting on High Street ..." 
 and all the rest of it. "Goodness!" ejaculated Nat, men 
 tally. He shoved the papers aside to make room, and doing 
 so, came again upon the letter Lewis had handed him, lying 
 there disregarded. He picked it up. 
 
 The jargon they talk nowadays of thought-transference, 
 psychic influence, telepathy, and so on would have been un 
 intelligible to us thirty-odd years ago; we were not dream 
 ing of explaining the miracles of coincidence by any such 
 elaborate method or in such magnificent terms; otherwise 
 Mr. Burke, notwithstanding a somewhat sceptical -turn, 
 might have been converted to the occult creed then and 
 there. He put to one side the warranty deed which, if a 
 genuine copy of one actually existing, he knew to be in the 
 circumstances a matter of some gravity; and he took up 
 the letter which he believed to be of no importance. As it 
 happened, in his position of Mr. Marsh s executor, he must 
 have known all about both deed and letter within a very 
 short time, even if he had never found or seen these. But 
 that these acts of his should fall so pat together startled him 
 then, and does a little now. As he drew the letter, which was 
 torn in places, and much creased and rumpled, from the en 
 velope, there fell out a bit of note-paper with a neat black 
 edge of mourning and a line or two in Mrs. Ducey s fine 
 Italian script: " This letter was in my uncle s hand when he 
 was taken sick. It must have got separated from the others 
 in the desk somehow. We have just found it. Please come 
 up this evening and explain what it means. Anne M. Ducey." 
 
602 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 Burke regarded it vaguely ; it did not strike him until later that 
 this note was, in its way, much more mysterious than any 
 thing that had yet happened. The letter was from Shea s at 
 torney. Although they had straightened it out and smoothed 
 it into some semblance of tidiness it still bore the marks of old 
 Marsh s strong clutch. Death had surprised him in the most 
 familiar act and posture of his life; his utter thought, the final 
 effort of his will, must have been concerned with this alone. 
 It was like a piece of drama, strangely significant and ap 
 propriate. 
 
 The young man young man, indeed! Nat s head was 
 fast turning gray, prematurely, to be sure, but still it was 
 nearly gray, and he felt very old, sedate, and settled; I think 
 it is time to stop putting that adjective to his name Mr. 
 Burke, I say, was so preoccupied with his recent discoveries, 
 and the really curious accident of their following so close one 
 on the heels of the other, that he finished his work and went 
 to his rooms (where he lived now in some state and opulence) 
 and ate his supper, and made an uncommonly neat toilette, 
 and was on his way to the Duceys with the letters in his 
 pocket, all without its once having occurred to him that 
 the lady s note was a sufficiently singular business in itself. 
 As he walked up the path to the Ducey front door, it came 
 into his head for the first time to wonder where that letter 
 came from, and how long he had had it? It must have been 
 with the other papers; in that case Mrs. Anne had written 
 some days ago, for he had had them at the office almost a week. 
 She would think he had shown an outrageous indifference and 
 disrespect Whew ! That it had been mislaid and only 
 found to-day wouldn t excuse him Whew ! She would be 
 ready to petition the court to appoint another executor if he 
 did not display more diligence and care, he thought with a 
 laugh. 
 
 Although it was not more than three weeks since Mr. 
 Marsh s death, Nat fancied the house and place had al 
 ready taken on a look of prosperity and the indefinable 
 reserve of a private residence; he understood the boarders 
 had been, or were presently to be, dismissed. And only 
 yesterday William appeared in a subdued splendor of 
 rich new mourning, a black satin waistcoat, a new tall 
 hat. Poor William! I believe a handsome allowance for 
 
THE GRANGER CLAIMS ARE SETTLED 603 
 
 clothes and pocket-money was all he ever got certainly 
 it was all that was safe to let him have out of the Marsh 
 inheritance. He used to go about talking in those large 
 phrases of which he was so fond about "our estate" and 
 "our plans"; and was as ornamental, fluent, and useful 
 at banquets and vestry-meetings as in the first days of his 
 career; and Mrs. Ducey made him most happy and com 
 fortable, I am sure. But the fact is, the honest gentleman 
 had no longer any voice or authority in their affairs; he sat at 
 the head of his table and carved the meat; and put a silver 
 dollar in the collection-plate Sunday mornings ; and listened 
 gravely when business was discussed in the family circle, and 
 signed his name where he was told; and was quite without 
 cares and responsibilities. His wife, to the astonishment of 
 Nat Burke who managed her property for years kept a 
 pretty good grip on her gear. Some underlying vein of old 
 Marsh s thrift and caution came to the surface! in her; she 
 was not shrewd or not nearly so shrewd as she thought 
 herself but she was honest and domineering; and, except 
 as regarded her son, uncompromisingly stingy as only a 
 woman can be. Both William and Anne have been gone this 
 long while now; and as for the property, who knows what has 
 become of it? We heap up riches and cannot tell who shall 
 gather them. 
 
 It was without any such gloomy reflections, however, that 
 Burke went up the walk. He was picturing to himself with 
 comic dismay Mrs. Ducey s face and manner upon seeing 
 him; and was correspondingly surprised at being received 
 with an appearance of anxiety and interest, but no resent 
 ment. Mr. Ducey was not in the parlor; he seldom came to 
 these conferences. But Burke was acutely conscious of 
 Francie sitting behind the lamp in shadow with her black 
 skirts sweeping into the other shadows, her hands lying in her 
 lap, and her averted cheek and the turn of her neck all a kind 
 of soft, warm white; her deep brown hair packed and twined 
 at the back of her head looked almost black; ladies wore a 
 little white collar about the base of the throat clasped with 
 some sort of brooch or pin in front, in those days, which 
 showed off the set of the head and neck, and was a pretty 
 fashion, I used to think. At least, it looked well on Francie. 
 Nathan made, his bow to her in a sudden distracting fluster of 
 
604 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 thought; but if his manner betrayed confusion, it mercifully 
 passed unnoticed, for Mrs. Ducey began to speak earnestly 
 almost before the ordinary greetings were uttered. 
 
 "Well, Nathan, you ve got that letter that Shea man, or 
 whatever his name is, wrote to Uncle George? He wanted to 
 go to law or make Uncle George pay him something dam 
 ages, or something, wasn t it? I couldn t make out what 
 it was all about, of course, but I knew you ought to see it at 
 once." 
 
 " I m sorry I didn t come across it till to-day. I must have 
 dropped or mislaid " Burke was beginning apologetically 
 when she interrupted him with a peremptory gesture. 
 
 "I know it can t be helped, and I don t suppose it s a 
 hanging matter, anyhow. Only, of course everything about 
 Uncle George s business ought to be attended to promptly, I 
 know. But the letter must have got mixed in with some of 
 his other things I don t believe that Woolley woman is 
 much of a housekeeper, anyhow. Uncle George s room was 
 in the worst disorder. Was the letter important? I mean, 
 was it just Uncle George s private affair, or has it got some 
 thing to do with us?" 
 
 Burke got it out and explained. "I don t know Shea s 
 lawyer," he said, when he had made her understand as 
 nearly as he could the nature of the Allen claims. "I mean 
 to go around to-morrow and see him about this. Shea 
 thinks he can come on your uncle and, of course, on his 
 estate for whatever loss he has sustained through this 
 Allen litigation, because of Mr. Marsh having warranted 
 his title. Now " 
 
 "Well, I do think of all things the law is the funniest!" 
 ejaculated Mrs. Ducey. "First the Small man buys of the 
 Allen man, and then Uncle George buys of the Small man, 
 and then this nasty, saloon-keeping Shea buys of Uncle 
 George it s just like that Chinese ivory carving Jimmie 
 Sharpless sent me, one ball inside another ball till you get 
 down to a real little bit of a one inside them all. I don t 
 know what Uncle George wanted to sell to a saloon-keeper 
 for; he ought to have sold to some respectable person. And, 
 anyway, the Small man is just as much to blame as anybody 
 else; why don t they hunt him up and sue him? I can t 
 imagine what Uncle George could have been thinking of - 
 
THE GRANGER CLAIMS ARE SETTLED 605 
 
 he must have known giving any kind of warrants like that 
 would make trouble. And here all these years we have 
 been thinking he was such a fine business man!" 
 
 "He supposed the title was perfect at the time, Mrs. 
 Ducey. Nobody had questioned it, and he must have held 
 that property for years. And for that matter, from what I 
 hear, I should be inclined to think that all these titles in 
 dispute are good. But that s got nothing to do with Shea s 
 complaint against your uncle, you know for the time 
 being, at any rate." 
 
 "Well, why didn t he begin long ago when the Aliens first 
 began their fussing?" 
 
 Nathan didn t know; he thought it likely Shea s lawyer 
 advised against it. "He may have wanted Shea tr wait 
 until the Allen claims were farther along, before beginning an 
 other suit. I am sure your uncle had forgotten all about the 
 warranty. This letter probably surprised him very much." 
 
 "Poor Uncle George!" said Francie, with a quick little 
 sigh; "he was so alone." It was the first time she had spo 
 ken; and also she was the only one amongst his grateful 
 heirs whom Burke ever heard express any feeling even re 
 motely approaching regret in connection with old George 
 Marsh. Mrs. Ducey looked up, suddenly horrified. 
 
 "Nathan, you don t think it could have given Uncle 
 George such a shock he had that stroke, do you?" 
 
 "Oh, hardly that. Mr. Marsh was used to business deal 
 ings. Of course, we all know he had fallen off a good deal 
 recently; he wasn t the man he had been. But even so " 
 
 "Well, I wish it had all happened before he died, and then 
 he could have attended to it himself, and we wouldn t have 
 had all this worry," said Anne, nervously; "will it take a 
 great deal of money to to have the lawsuit ? Or hadn t 
 we better pay the man right off and be done with it? It 
 won t take everything we ve got, will it?" She looked 
 around, pitiably worried. "I I wish I hadn t told them 
 all I wasn t going to take boarders any more. But they 
 haven t all found another place yet 
 
 "Oh, don t worry, Mrs. Ducey," said Nathan; her dis 
 tress and anxiety were such nobody could have had the 
 heart to smile. "This is only an annoyance, and I think I 
 can fix it up with Shea so that it won t be too costly " 
 
606 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 "I think it s too mean! Just when we thought we were 
 going to be comfortable at last to have this turn up," Mrs. 
 Ducey said, angry and aggrieved and helpless; "you talk 
 about settling it up, but lawyers are so tricky you never 
 know what s going to be the end of anything. They always 
 get every cent of the money, no matter how the case turns 
 out. Oh I I didn t mean you, Nathan, of course. I 
 meant it s the rule with lawyers, everybody says." 
 
 "It doesn t make any difference to Nathan what you say. 
 He knows everything we ve got ought to be his, anyhow!" 
 said Francie, in a sharp, clear, and resolute voice. She got 
 up and came and stood between them, looking somehow 
 taller and older in her black clothes and sudden assumption 
 of authority. Her hands were clasped tight across her 
 breast; the look she gave Burke held something almost venge 
 ful in its pride of renunciation. 
 
 As for that gentleman, he sat dumb in a consternation and 
 bewilderment as great as if she had exploded a bomb be 
 neath their feet. He could not even think connectedly; 
 and still in vacant surprise, he heard Mrs. Ducey exclaim: 
 "Francie! What s that? Why, you ve gone crazy!" 
 
 "It s true, I tell you! Everything Uncle George bought 
 and owned around here belonged to Nathan s grandfather, 
 and if he went to law about it, he could get it every bit back ! " 
 the girl proclaimed. "I heard him say so himself or 
 or, at least, the other man said so, and you didn t say you 
 couldn t, Nathan. You just let us have it because of Uncle 
 George. If you think I m crazy, Aunt Anne, ask him 
 ask Nathan!" 
 
 "Francie! You re crazy!" cried her aunt again; "what 
 do you know about Nathan s grandfather?" 
 
 "Never mind! I know all about him. I heard him 
 talking about it in his own office 
 
 "You heard who? You heard Nathan s grandfather 
 talking!" said Mrs. Ducey, wholly at sea, and out of temper; 
 "mercy, Francie, you dreamed it! You re talking perfectly 
 wildly it s not sense what you re saying!" 
 
 "/ say I heard Nathan -- talking about his 
 grandfather this very afternoon to another man 
 and he the other man, I mean knew all about it, 
 too!" said Francie, separating her words with a savage 
 
THE GRANGER CLAIMS ARE SETTLED 607 
 
 distinctness; "it was in his own office Nathan s own 
 office" 
 
 11 What!" shouted out Mr. Burke, in his turn, galvanized 
 into something like activity by this statement; "the office? 
 My office? You haven t been at my office for days!" 
 
 "Yes, she has, yes, she has!" cried Mrs. Ducey, visibly 
 perturbed; "she was there this afternoon. Didn t you 
 see her? I sent her down with that letter, don t you remem 
 ber? Why, how did you think the letter got there, Nathan? " 
 And misconstruing the other s look, she added defensively; 
 "There wasn t anybody else to send. I couldn t help it. 
 I knew that letter was important, and Francie just had to 
 take it down." 
 
 "This letter? Shea s letter?" babbled Nat, worse off 
 in his confusion than before. 
 
 "Gracious, yes! That letter. What s the matter now? 
 Francie said you were busy, and she left it for you." 
 
 "Well, I did. I left it on the table. And you were busy, 
 Nathan, I heard you talking," said Francie, quite calm 
 now. 
 
 "Well, but he says you weren t there; he couldn t have 
 seen you what is it all about, anyhow?" said Mrs. Ducey, 
 in an exasperation; "I can t make head nor tail of what 
 you re saying. And I d like to know where you got all this 
 nonsensical stuff about Nathan s grandfather. You never 
 said a word to me about it before." 
 
 "Because I didn t know myself till to-day. And then I 
 I didn t know exactly what to do. I thought I d wait 
 till Nathan came, and and I thought I d wait till 
 Nathan came, you see. But it s all true, Aunt Anne. I 
 heard every word they said. The other man wanted Na 
 than to get his property back 
 
 "Which other man? What other man? How did he 
 happen to know so much? Oh, you can t have got it right, 
 Francie." 
 
 "Ask Nathan, then! Ask him!" said the girl, forcibly, 
 though she was trembling; "Nathan, you know it s so!" 
 
 Burke, who f had been very injudiciously trying to force upon 
 his muddled wits the double task of understanding the 
 letter transaction, and remembering just what he and Will 
 iams had said in that ill-timed conversation, gave up both 
 
608 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 efforts. "Do be sensible, both of you!" he remarked gal 
 lantly. "I I mean, that is, let s try to get at what s 
 happened. How did you happen to come to the office and 
 go away without my seeing you, Francie? What did you 
 do that for?" 
 
 "I don t care if I did listen. I don t care if it was wrong 
 to listen. I m glad I did. There!" she said vigorously. 
 She seemed to think that this entirely irrelevant speech an 
 swered him. "But I just couldn t see you or talk to you 
 right after hearing all that I couldn t. I wanted to get 
 away somewhere, and think first." 
 
 "For mercy s sake, what did the child hear?" said Anne, 
 appealing to Burke in despair. 
 
 Francie began to explain, a little brokenly and incohe 
 rently: "Aunt Anne, when I got down there with the letter 
 I knocked twice, and nobody came to the door, but I could 
 hear them talking, so I knew there was somebody in. I I 
 knew Nathan s voice only they were talking very loud 
 awfully loud so then I went in. And there wasn t any 
 body in the front room, but you know those two partitions 
 one on each side with Burke on one and Lewis on the 
 other? The talking was all behind the Burke door, and 
 I was just going to knock when the other man he s a 
 deaf man, a farmer or something, at least he looks like one, 
 and you called him Liph - - he began to ask questions 
 about how much Uncle George had left, and then he got to 
 talking about why didn t you get your property back that 
 was in the old Refugee Tract and I knew that was where 
 ever so much of ours Uncle George s, I mean was, 
 and and I don t know why, I didn t knock. I listened. 
 He was talking so loud, anybody could have heard outside 
 in the street almost. You had to talk loud, too, to make him 
 understand. I can remember every single thing you both 
 said - " and, in fact, at this point, she repeated the whole 
 of Williams s talk and Burke s, word for word, from first to 
 last, with amazing accuracy. "And, of course, the longer 
 I stood there listening, the worse it made it," she finished 
 ingenuously; "I I had to go away without your seeing me. 
 And I wanted to think, anyhow. And you looked as if you 
 might be angry if - 
 
 "I looked as if but how did you know how I looked?" 
 interrupted Burke. 
 
THE GRANGER CLAIMS ARE SETTLED 609 
 
 "I wanted to see, and there was a knot-hole in the parti 
 tion, only it was too high up; I I climbed on the table 
 and looked through," said Francie, scarlet, but honest. 
 
 Mr. Burke, surveying her, exercised a self-control of which 
 he is to this moment and instant proud; he knew if he 
 laughed she would never forgive him. But Mrs. Ducey, who 
 had sat silent through the recital, now spoke in a strained 
 voice. 
 
 "Is all that true about your grandfather, Nathan? I 
 don t know anything about the law; you know that. 
 Please just tell me in a plain way if it is really all yours 
 everything that Uncle George bought in that tract, I mean. 
 We don t want anything that doesn t rightfully belong to 
 us. I mean by right, I don t mean by law. We d rather you 
 took whatever ought to be yours. 7 owe you still,, anyhow, 
 for what you did for my Georgie. I I meant to pay you 
 that as soon as we began to have a little more money there 
 were so many things to do at first, you know. But you may 
 as well tell me right out it s no kindness to try and make 
 it easy for me. If all that land was your grandfather s and 
 he never sold it, it ought to be yours." 
 
 Burke looked down at her, infinitely touched. I trust it 
 will not be taken for a piece of idle fine talk when I say that 
 if at any time in his career he could have had his inheritance 
 for the lifting of a finger, he would not have taken it. But 
 he could not tell Mrs. Ducey so; that would have been only 
 to humiliate still further that brave, and proud, and upright 
 spirit. There was something magnanimous in the way she 
 trusted to his own magnanimity, relied on his truth and 
 fairness. 
 
 "I m sorry Francie heard all this talk, Mrs. Ducey," he 
 said; "not that it was wrong for her to listen, or did any real 
 harm, of course; we should probably have come to this 
 sooner or later, anyhow. But it s a pity it happened this 
 way. Liph Williams is my good friend, but he doesn t know 
 a thing in the world about my rights, as he calls them; 
 he just wanted to hear himself talk. I have a claim in law 
 on your uncle s estate; in right, I think I have none at all. 
 If I had thought otherwise, I should have spoken about it 
 long ago. I couldn t be satisfied any more than yourself 
 to push a mere technical claim. That s not my idea of what 
 2n 
 
610 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 law is meant to do. You see, we think very much alike to 
 that point so much alike that it seems to me there s not 
 mucrruse our talking about it. We understand each other- 
 Mrs. Ducey looked at him with a convulsed face; all at 
 once she burst out in wild tears. " You re a good man 
 oh, you re a good man, Nathan Burke! "she sobbed hysteri 
 cally. Francie ran to her, and put her arms around her with 
 soothing words. 
 
 " She s all right she ll be all right in a minute, Nathan," 
 she said hurriedly. "I ll take her to her room. Come and 
 lie down, Aunt Anne, do come; you re all worn out and 
 nervous it s my fault I ought to have thought what I 
 was doing. Never mind you can talk the rest over an 
 other time can t she, Nathan ? No, no, don t go away 
 now wait till I come back I ll be back in just a little. 
 Please wait." She led her aunt away, leaving Burke alone 
 in wonder and concern; he could hear her coaxing and sup 
 porting Mrs. Ducey up the stairs, and their footsteps over 
 head. 
 
 He stood waiting for a while uncertainly; then at last 
 sat down again by the lamp. Francie might have some fur 
 ther tragic communication, he thought, almost with a smile 
 
 her manner had been very insistent. And, good Lord ! 
 
 he said inwardly, with a gasp suppose she had heard 
 Liph s final remarks ! But a moment s reflection convinced 
 him that she must have clambered down from her perch, and 
 gone scampering off by that time. He would never know, 
 at any rate impossible to mention it that is he felt 
 himself redden at his own thought. He got up and went 
 fidgetting about the room in a hardly controlled excitement, 
 looking at the pictures on the wall, the gilt "Garland of 
 Friendship" and other gift-books on the table, Francie s 
 sewing-basket, and some kind of white embroidery-work 
 on the chair where she had thrown it down. Just as he got 
 to this point, she came back, walking into the room, and up 
 to him with a strange little air of determination, at once 
 defiant and accusing. 
 
 "Is Mrs. Ducey better ? Would you like me to go for the 
 doctor?" Burke asked anxiously. 
 
 "Aunt Anne s all right. I told you she would be all 
 right she doesn t need medicine. She s only nervous. I 
 
THE GRANGER CLAIMS ARE SETTLED 611 
 
 suppose I ought to have told her about this differently 
 but it can t be helped now. She had to know; and you never 
 would have told her. You know that!" said Francie, with 
 severity. 
 
 "Well, I I didn t see that there was any necessity J 
 
 "Fiddle-de-dee!" said this remarkable young woman, 
 very spiritedly; "you can t tell me any story like that, Na 
 than. You can t talk to me the way you do to Aunt Anne. 
 You know very well that all that land was your own grand 
 father s, and ought to be yours this minute, and would be 
 if jfau d make the slightest effort to get it " 
 
 " You re very much mistaken, Francie, "interrupted Burke. 
 " I don t know why you and your aunt both want to go jump 
 ing to conclusions like that. You seem to take what poor 
 old Williams says for law and gospel. Setting aside any 
 question of right or wrong, it would be a long, difficult, 
 tedious matter for me to prove any claim at all. It would 
 even be hard to furnish legal proof that Granger was my 
 grandfather " 
 
 "But you could, though. You know you could!" 
 
 "Well, and what if I could ? I don t care to. I m thirty- 
 one years old; if I ve got along without the Refugee Tract 
 all this while, I guess I can finish out without it," said Na 
 than, not able to understand her insistence. 
 
 "That s just it you weren t thirty-one when you first 
 found it out. You could have had it any time these ten 
 years, only you d rather work and slave and pinch than go 
 to law against Uncle George. You thought you were behol 
 den to him, and that s the real reason you never claimed it, 
 Nathan. It s just as that man said. You d have tried to 
 get it from anybody but Uncle George." 
 
 "And so I was beholden to him," cried out Nat; "and I 
 think I should have been a poor sort of creature to have 
 harried him with law-suits; there s no property on earth 
 worth it. The old man that s gone was mighty good to me, 
 Francie. You don t understand. Mr. Marsh was the first 
 friend I ever had; he took me out of the stable; he made 
 me; he " 
 
 "You made yourself," said the girl; "anyhow, you don t 
 owe anything to the rest of us. We never did anything 
 for you. You could take it from us. You could take 
 
612 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 my share of it, if you don t want to give Aunt Anne 
 trouble - 
 
 "Francie!" 
 
 She came nearer to him came quite close, and put up her 
 two hands against his coat unconsciously, in a gesture of 
 entreaty. " Nathan, please! I I feel as if as if we 
 ought to, you know as if 
 
 " Francie!" said the young man again, huskily, and 
 grasped her hands, as she made a motion to withdraw them 
 with suddenly frightened eyes. He held them against his 
 breast, looking into her face, trembling. 
 
 " Don t, Nathan, please, I- 
 
 " Francie, I have to. I have to tell you. I love you." 
 His heart raced; his throat drew together so that he could 
 scarcely get out the words. He began again: "I love you. 
 Sometimes I ve thought you cared for me a little not the 
 way I care for you, of course, but just a little. There isn t 
 anything about me to make a woman love me, I know that. 
 But I ask you to marry me, even so; even if you only care 
 a little. Will you, Francie ?" 
 
 It came in a broken and unnatural voice; it was not at 
 all what he had meant to say; neither were the time and 
 place as he had planned them; for, I may as well confess it, 
 poor Nat had rehearsed this event a score of times, since he 
 first, with longing and uncertainty, began to wonder if it ever 
 could be possible. He waited in a miserable suspense. She 
 did not shrink from him now, nor try to take her hands 
 away; she stood with her head drooped a little. Then she 
 spoke at last, as brokenly as he "Oh, Nathan, you are 
 so so and suddenly, neither of them knew how, she 
 was in his arms with a kind of sob, and her face against his 
 shoulder! Burke s arm tightened about her little, slim, 
 soft, and yielding shape with an impulse that the next instant 
 shamed him, yet it was out of his control; he put his lips 
 against her pretty hair; he was afraid to kiss her, until she 
 lifted her face. 
 
 After a while he said: "Do you know what you made me 
 think of just now when you were insisting on my taking 
 your share ? You made me think of the very first time I 
 ever saw you, and you wanted to give me your quarter-dol 
 lar all the money you had. Do you remember?" 
 
THE GRANGER CLAIMS ARE SETTLED 613 
 
 "Well, I had my way, too, didn t I?" said Francie, a 
 tender mischief lighting her eyes; "I made you take it. 
 Isn t this it on your watch-chain? I ve always liked to 
 think you had that, Nathan." 
 
 Burke was astonished. "I thought you d forgotten all 
 about it!" he said. "Once I said something to you about it, 
 and you you didn t seem to like my mentioning it. So 
 I never did again." 
 
 "Nathan," said Francie, again; "you are so so ! " 
 
 "Well, what is it that I am ? You ve said that before " 
 
 "Why, it s just that you never seemed to know. You just 
 wouldn t let yourself see, even when you when you 
 wanted to. It was it was always you, Nathan. I I 
 never thought about anybody else. It was always you from 
 the beginning, I think. Don t you remember how I cried 
 that time when you went away to Uncle George at the 
 store ? I ve wondered that you didn t understand." 
 
 "Why, you were only a little girl, then," said Nat, not 
 quite able to believe this, in spite of her dear, earnest face. 
 "How about all those little boys that used to come mooning 
 around and load you up with pop-corn balls and molasses 
 candy and stuff ? I had to shoo em off the place. And 
 when you grew up 
 
 "I sent them all off I never cared for one of them," she 
 interrupted, flushing brightly. 
 
 "I thought they weren t any of them good enough for 
 you, Francie. Except Jim Sharpless " 
 
 "Who told you that?" said the girl, quickly. "I never 
 said a word to anybody about about I mean when men 
 wanted me to marry them, Nathan. I never told. Girls 
 do some girls. But I wouldn t. How did you know?" 
 
 "He told me himself. Poor Jim! " said Burke. And they 
 were both gravely silent a little. "He said he thought there 
 was somebody else," said Burke, at last, with a faint sting of 
 j ealousy . Was there ? 
 
 " It was you, Nathan. It was never anybody but you. 
 When you went away to the war, I thought I thought I d 
 never live through it. I used to look in the glass and wonder 
 why my hair didn t turn gray. When I gave the flag to 
 your company, you know I don t know how I did it. I 
 felt as if I were made of glass, and everybody could see right 
 
614 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 through me, and knew what I was thinking and feeling when 
 I stood up there on the porch and gave it to you. There 
 was a man never mind who he was with you that 
 came and asked me to be engaged to him that morning. 
 And it was the third time, and I was so weary and sad and 
 and bitter, I suppose I was hateful to him. I told 
 him I couldn t bear him, and please go away and leave me 
 in peace. I never wanted to see him again. So he went away, 
 hanging his head. He was killed afterwards in one of those 
 skirmishes you had somewhere and, oh, Nathan, that 
 made me feel so so I might have been a little kinder 
 to him. I wish I d been a little kinder to him," said Fran- 
 cie, her eyes filling with remorseful tears; "but everything 
 seemed to be going at cross-purposes, and nobody cared for 
 the right person, somehow. When you marched, I ran away 
 from them all at the house, and watched you go all by my 
 self. You didn t see me. But the other man did poor 
 fellow! And then afterwards when the news came about the 
 way you did at Monterey and Chapultepec and everywhere, 
 I was so proud. I thought: Well, it don t hurt for me to be 
 proud of him, anyhow. Nobody knows I am. It doesn t 
 hurt, even if I haven t any business to be proud of him. I 
 always knew that was the kind of man he was She 
 
 paused, a little out of breath with the hurry of this speech, 
 looking at him both shyly and wistfully, the warm pink 
 coming and going in her cheeks after that fashion Nat had 
 always so loved to watch. But now his eyes fell before the 
 clear truth and purity of hers. 
 
 "I I wasn t worth all that, Francie," he said in honest 
 humility; "I m not worth it now. It isn t that I ve ever 
 done anything I m ashamed of but no man could be good 
 enough for that good enough for a woman like you to love, 
 I think." 
 
 "Nathan," said Francie, in a queer voice somewhere 
 between tears and laughter, "that s just like you just 
 exactly like you!" 
 
CHAPTER XXI 
 
 EXEUNT OMNES 
 
 THIS history is all but ended. For, as most such his 
 tories go, its hero having arrived at middle life, some success, 
 a tolerable income, and a very great and undeserved happi 
 ness, there cannot be, in conscience, much more to say about 
 him. You may, if you please, fancy Mr. Burke, on a cer 
 tain fine morning in early spring, sitting down to his break 
 fast of which he cannot eat one morsel in a tremendous 
 state of nervousness, with a new black superfine broad 
 cloth suit about the cut of which he has some dark sus 
 picions, and a new white waistcoat, and a pair of agonizing 
 new boots, and a new plain gold ring in his pocket which he is 
 in mortal terror of losing. It is his last breakfast at the board 
 ing-house table ; he spills the salt ; he knocks over his coffee- 
 cup; he grins feebly at his fellow-boarders jokes. He jumps 
 and turns pale when somebody rushes in to announce the 
 arrival of Dr. Vardaman who, in his quality of best man, 
 has called in a carriage for the groom. The unhappy-look 
 ing gentleman is not, in fact, about to wind up his interest 
 ing career under the guillotine ; he is going to his own wedding 
 in church before the whole of the town is not his condition 
 pitiable? You may read the next day in the papers: 
 "MARRIED On Wednesday the 15th inst. at Trinity 
 Church, by the Right Reverend Charles Mcllvaine, D.D., 
 Frances, only daughter of the late Francis and the late 
 Cornelia (Marsh) Blake, to Nathan Burke, Esq., all parties 
 of this city." And, strange to say, it has often seemed to 
 Burke as if, instead of ending, his life-story only began in 
 earnest upon that fortunate Wednesday the 15th inst.! 
 
 And so they were married and lived happily ever after! 
 All Nat s dreams came true or, at least, enough to satisfy 
 any reasonable man. He had the little home he had longed 
 for how many years; his old musket hung at last over his 
 
 615 
 
616 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 own hearth, decorating the mantle in company with a pair 
 of china figures simpering at each other in highly glazed 
 pink-and-yellow garments ornaments (begged from Mrs. 
 Ducey) of which both Mr. and Mrs. Nathan Burke were, 
 for some reason, very fond. And it was under the shadow of 
 these china Lares that Nat and his wife sat down together 
 to read a letter which came not long after the wedding, and, 
 in part, certainly deserves quoting here. It was a far-trav 
 elled document, having been more than two months on its 
 way; perhaps its author was not sorry in his heart of hearts 
 to be out of sight and sound of Francie s wedding-bells, al 
 though he was generously glad to hear of his friend s happi 
 ness, and had already written them both most kind and 
 hearty letters; and sent the bride a present of wonderful old 
 Spanish laces fit for a countess, and a fan and a high, jewelled 
 comb which she bestowed among her choicest treasures. 
 
 SACRAMENTO, 
 New Year s Day, 1852. 
 DEAR NAT (wrote Jim), 
 
 Since my last to you, I have gone, and come back from, 
 a tour up Nevada County way, and along the diggings - 
 or washings of the South Yuba, and all its little tributary 
 streams. They are all alive with gold-seekers twice as many 
 as when I was there about this same time last year, and five 
 or six times as when I first came to the West. And notwith 
 standing that everybody has been prophesying ever since the 
 excitement began that the gold would inevitably peter out 
 in a few months or a year at farthest, they seem to be tak 
 ing out as much as ever, with more continually in sight 
 enough for the whole United States, and the whole United 
 States is coming here to get it! The feeling that it s too 
 good to be true and can t possibly keep on this way, and that 
 one must make hay while the sun shines is just as strong as 
 ever, though; and every mother s son of them all digs, spends, 
 works, plays with a frenzied energy. I don t believe any 
 thing like it was ever seen since the world began; certainly 
 the old fellows who came pioneering out and settled up Ohio 
 fifty years ago were no such exuberant lot; yet, barring the 
 gold, the conditions of life must have been a good deal the 
 same, and the character of the adventurers themselves not 
 
EXEUNT OMNES 617 
 
 very different. . . . One thing you may be sure of: not all 
 the bonanza fortunes in California are dug out of the ground, 
 or sluiced out of the rivers; you may leave all that manual 
 labor and dirt and discomfort to others, and no matter how 
 rich they strike it, your score may be even in the end. Run 
 a saloon, run a day-and-night poker establishment, run a 
 boarding-house at heaven-scaling prices, run a general store, 
 and sell boots at sixteen dollars a pair, pork at a dollar a 
 pound (mouldy; Lord knows what they d ask if it were 
 sweet!), and apples for seventy-five cents apiece would 
 anyone ask a gold-mine to pay better ? I gave a dollar for 
 a two-months-old copy of the New York Herald, which I 
 got of my friend Mr. Hamlet Davis who keeps a store on 
 Deer Creek (about fifteen miles south of the River) , and also 
 runs a kind of unofficial post-office, not having any legal 
 appointment, and without pay. However, Hamlet will 
 never go to the poor-house by reason of that piece of public 
 spirit, as it brings all the miners between him and the Yuba 
 to his store, and he does a rousing business in commodities 
 at the scale of prices I have quoted. He coyly admitted to 
 me that he was making more money than the average miner. 
 
 ". . . They re hustling each other for elbow-room all 
 the way up and down the Creek, and they all got to eat and 
 drink, you know. Of course," he added philosophically; 
 "the country will be cleaned out pretty soon at this rate, 
 and the minute the miners go, I got to go too. There ain t 
 anything to California but the gold; tain t any good for a 
 farming country, and everybody can farm back in the States 
 if they want to, anyhow, and live easier and cheaper. I 
 calc late to make my pile before she busts up teetotally." 
 
 This is the way they all talk. To hear them, one would 
 think there never was a community so powerfully impressed 
 with a sense of the ephemeral nature of earthly achievement. 
 We are tolerably strong on morals anyhow in Nevada 
 County, contrary to popular opinion back east, and the usual 
 habit of newly-settled places. In the main we are more 
 decent and law-abiding than some of the counties and cities 
 at home in the old states that call us names. At any rate, 
 this is what I have been warmly assured by Mr. Davis and 
 others, and I never contradict I don t want to make myself 
 unpopular in this highly moral settlement. I already ran 
 
618 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 some risk of it, not being a miner, or store-keeper, or express- 
 rider, or gambler, or, in short, practicing any recognized or 
 reputable calling; but I forestalled unkind criticism (at least, 
 of the shot-gun variety) by explaining myself liberally to all 
 inquirers, and showed Davis my last article on the inside 
 sheet of the Herald to his great interest. 
 
 "Well, now, of course you wanted to see your name in 
 print/ he said, indulgently; "why, you didn t need to buy 
 a copy just for that. I d have let you have a peek. I guess 
 I ll have to read that. Beats me how you can ever find 
 anything to write about out here!" 
 
 I told him I should like to write about him if he didn t 
 mind at which he first looked suspicious, then grinned 
 broadly. "You want to bear in mind the Herald comes to 
 camp regular, young man," he remarked. And went on 
 to say, more seriously, that if I undertook to describe any 
 hold-ups, or shooting-scrapes, or claim-jumping outrages 
 and so on, I ought to emphasize the fact that these wrongs 
 were always righted as far as possible, and the offenders 
 sought out and punished; and that their rough-and-ready 
 justice was still justice quite as much in California as in Con 
 necticut. "Once in a while the men get excited and act too 
 quick," he said reasonably; "but they ll mostly listen to rea 
 son. I guess Nevada County ain t the only place on earth 
 where guilty folks sometimes go free, and innocent ones get 
 the punishment. You can t help feeling pretty strong 
 against the half-breeds and Mexicans and Chinese. They 
 ain t white, and that s all there is to it. You can t treat em 
 like white men any more than you could a nigger. And 
 Mormons; Mormons are bed-rock in my opinion. Tain t 
 their fool religion, you know. It s them theirselves, and the 
 way they live." 
 
 I said most people would be surprised that there wasn t 
 more irregularity in living, all things considered. But I 
 don t know of a place where a decent woman, or, in fact, 
 almost any kind of woman could be more sure of respect and 
 kind treatment. To which he replied rather ambiguously 
 that there were mighty few women anyhow; three over at 
 Selby flat (to at least two hundred men!), that little French 
 widow that was dealing faro down at Centre ville now, but 
 she used to be in Nevada City; and all the rest were Mexican 
 
EXEUNT OMNES 619 
 
 or Indian. Here he had to break off to go and serve a young 
 miner with powder and shot. It seemed to me they had 
 quite a long dicker over it, talking in low voices; and when 
 Mr. Davis came back he was absent and moody, and showed 
 no disposition to take up the conversation where we had 
 left off. Not until I was about to saddle up and leave did 
 he return to his former geniality; and then he followed me 
 to the door, and asked with a good deal of interest which 
 way I was going. Upon being told that I expected to 
 make camp on Rock Creek that evening, and keep on in a 
 general north-east direction for the next two days, till I got 
 to Kanaka where there was a big stampede of miners 
 lately, with rumors of fabulously rich deposits in the bed of 
 the stream he first looked, I thought, a little queer, hesi 
 tated, and then suggested Scott s ranch as a good place to 
 stop, instead of camping out in the open on the creek. Why 
 didn t I go on to Scott s ranch ? It was only a few miles 
 further, and old man Scott would be glad to see me. Old 
 man Scott remembered me from last year often talked 
 about me. Why didn t I go on to Scott s ? I said Scott s 
 was too far, and that I would probably strike some miner 
 on the creek, who would take me in; if not, the October 
 nights were pleasant, and I didn t mind being outdoors. 
 Well, he didn t know; it was mighty wild and lonesome up 
 on Rock Creek. " Why," said I; "you just said they were 
 hustling each other for elbow-room up there!" 
 
 He had no answer for that; and finally let me go with a 
 sort of I-wash-my-hands-of-it air at once dubious and an 
 noyed. So that, you see, Nat, I took the trail with a pleas 
 ant feeling of being in the wake of some kind of adventure; 
 and so I was, though it had nothing to do with me personally. 
 I suppose it was as much Davis manner that put the idea 
 into my head, as anything he said. This is a country where 
 everybody most religiously minds his own business, and he 
 had been so insistent against Rock Creek, when ordinarily 
 he wouldn t have asked or cared anything about my plans, 
 that anyone would have scented mystery. 
 
 Not far out of town I overtook the young miner who had 
 been buying the powder and shot, journeying blithely along, 
 as he openly told me on my dropping alongside, to his cabin 
 on the creek. There was nothing mysterious about him, 
 
620 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 at any rate; in the twelve or fifteen mile ride he told me all 
 about himself. He and his pardner were washing with 
 sluice-boxes, and what they call a "Long Tom"; been at it a 
 year; last week they took out forty-one and three-quarter 
 ounces pretty fair, hey? It was ever so much better 
 having a pardner; you didn t get so lonesome. When he 
 first came out (from Rhode Island) he didn t have anyone to 
 live with him, and though he made money right along, he 
 pretty near died of homesickness. His name was Jackson, 
 and his pardner s Anderson. Anderson was older than him 
 self, a fine fellow, a splendid fellow, a man of education, you 
 know, from Syracuse, New York. He liked to be with 
 people of education, he could see I was, etc. He was very 
 much interested to hear what my trade was, and vastly 
 pleased with his own powers of perception. "I knew you 
 were an educated man!" he said two or three times with 
 pride; "are you going to write a book about California ?" 
 
 I said: "I don t know enough to write a book yet, but 
 some day I hope to. I was talking to Mr. Davis about that 
 when you came in." 
 
 He gave me a thoughtful look. "Yes. That s what he 
 said. He seemed to be kind of afraid of what you d write to 
 your paper about about the way it is out here. But 7 
 don t see why it shouldn t all be put down, good, bad and 
 indifferent. That s what I d do, if I was writing. It can t 
 be like it is back home; we ve got different things to settle 
 things they haven t got at home 
 
 And I thought he was on the point of letting me into some 
 interesting secret, when unluckily we hove in sight of his 
 cabin, and the educated man from Syracuse came out to 
 greet us. 
 
 Anderson was another good fellow, quite as pleasant and 
 open in his talk as the younger man; and of course they 
 asked me to stay the night, and set out the pot of cold beans, 
 and made tea, and fried a bit of pork to sop our bread in, 
 with the kindest and most unaffected hospitality in the 
 world. "I make the bread," said Jackson, proudly; "the 
 boys say I make the best bread of anybody on the Creek." 
 
 It was while we were sitting at supper, the twilight begin 
 ning to close in, and a star or two coming out prettily over 
 the pine-tree tops, that all at once with a rub-dub of hoofs 
 
EXEUNT OMNES 621 
 
 on the trail, we heard several men ride up. The two partners 
 simultaneously set down their tin mugs, and looked at each 
 other and at me; outside the riders began to hail them. 
 
 "He don t know anything about it, of course," said Jack 
 son to the other in an undertone; "I I said I d go, you 
 know." 
 
 Anderson said he wasn t going anyhow he didn t believe 
 he wanted to. They were both plainly unsettled by my 
 presence; at last Jackson went out to talk to the others, 
 and I took the chance to say frankly to Anderson that what 
 ever was happening, I saw I was in the way, but I would go 
 on to Scott s ranch where I was known, and be just as much 
 obliged as if I had stayed with them. He demurred hastily. 
 
 "Oh, you needn t to do that," he said, in concern; "we 
 wouldn t have you do that. And besides Scott s ranch ! 
 Lord love you, the whole of Scott s ranch 11 likely be going 
 along themselves! No reason why you shouldn t come too, 
 stranger, if you feel like it. It s been kept pretty dark, but 
 as long as you know this much, you might as well see the 
 rest, seems to me. Don t want you to think we re ashamed 
 of what we re doing, anyway. It s all square." With this 
 invitation, after a little more talk, we went outside, and 
 saddled up again, and joined the party; there were six or 
 eight of them. It was so dark we could hardly see one 
 another s faces, but nobody had on a mask or any kind of 
 disguise. I suppose Jackson had accounted for me, for no 
 one questioned my being with them. In fact, as we rode 
 along, we received so many additions from cabins here and 
 there that I should think there must have been between 
 twenty-five and thirty all told. We struck right across in 
 the direction of Round Mountain. There wasn t much 
 talking; nevertheless we went along without any effort at 
 secrecy. I kept near to Anderson, and after a while, when 
 we were a little separated from the rest picking our way up 
 the hill-side, he told me in a low voice what it was all about 
 gave me an outline, that is. 
 
 "Things have got to be pretty bad, before we can afford to 
 take any notice of em," he said; "live and let live is our 
 motto, generally speaking. But we ve got to draw the line 
 somewhere. I don t know that you ve been here long enough 
 to hear about Holiness Farm it s only been going this last 
 
622 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 year. Man came and located on Round Mountain ten or 
 twelve months ago; he didn t appear to do any mining; 
 just settled down there. It got around first he was a hermit; 
 then some said he was some kind of missionary; then there 
 was a report that he was spreading a new sort of religion 
 among the Mexicans and Indians and Chinese and heathen 
 generally. Nobody paid much attention to it; we re all 
 busy, and a religion more or less don t make much difference 
 here. I suppose there re forty in camp but mostly no 
 religion at all. Presently, however, it leaked out that it 
 was only the women his reverence was converting. That 
 don t ever look very well. They went up there in droves so 
 they say, I don t know anything of my own self and the 
 place being lonely and off to itself, nobody knew what they 
 did exactly. Nobody paid much attention to that either; 
 if Mr. Missionary s tastes ran to half-breed and Digger 
 women, why, it was low-down, of course, but none of our 
 funeral, you understand. It seems, though, they had some 
 kind of shindy rites, you know; and all the sisters had to 
 bring tithes, or tribute; that s what gave Holiness Farm a 
 black eye, as you might say. Because these Indian women 
 and the rest would loaf around the camps awhile, then bye 
 and bye they d pike off to Round Mountain with a little 
 jag of dust, or a good steel tool, or some fellow s clean shirt, 
 or whatever else they could get their hands on. They re 
 pretty slick thieves. We ve missed things ourselves. Some 
 of em live up there and do the work, cook and wash, and 
 rock a little for gold off and on in the creek, while his holi 
 ness sets there and gets fat. Made the boys kind of sore. 
 Tain t decent anyhow. So they ve about made up their 
 minds to invite him to leave him and the squaws. Time 
 the place was cleaned out." 
 
 All this information he delivered in that manner of ironic 
 humor with which they seem to meet every situation, no 
 matter how grave. I am more or less of a greenhorn still, 
 and I swear I don t know half the time whether they are in 
 earnest, or only having a little fun at my expense; and then 
 again I am sometimes tempted to set down for our strongest 
 national characteristic, the disposition to levity about 
 serious things, and to a perfectly abysmal seriousness about 
 trivialities! " Inviting him to leave" might mean anything 
 
EXEUNT OMNES 623 
 
 from a piece of horseplay to lynching; but in either case, 
 I couldn t do much but look on, and keep my mouth shut. 
 I asked Anderson what he thought the missionary could 
 possibly do with his disciples "tithes"? He answered 
 succinctly that he " snaked" the dust and the eatables for 
 his own use; and had been known to dispose of the tools 
 and clothing in distant camps or to chance wayfarers 
 " You can get a whaling price for things like that, if you know 
 how," he explained. "At least, that s what we suppose he 
 does. Nobody s ever been inside his cabin. The boys 
 gave it that name Holiness Farm; seemed kind of ap 
 propriate, hey?" 
 
 We arrived there in about an hour, the last part pretty stiff 
 climbing, so that we had to dismount and tie the horses, 
 and make our way through the brush perhaps three hundred 
 yards on foot, spreading out to surround the place. They 
 all had guns or revolvers; I had left mine in my belt, and 
 forgot it when we started. Jackson and I, and another man 
 whom they called " Squire" I didn t hear his last name 
 kept together. The place was very quiet and dark and 
 peaceful, no dogs around to give warning, just an ordinary 
 cabin in a clearing. There were some chicken-coops, and a 
 lot of washing hanging out on a line. This all had so pas 
 toral and harmless a look, I confess to some misgivings about 
 Nevada County justice. If the Holiness-Farm-ers had been 
 having some kind of orgy, chanting incantations over a pile of 
 skulls, or dancing around a cauldron of witches broth, it would 
 have been at once more picturesque and more convincing. 
 However, in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye (to borrow 
 and debase a phrase) the scene changed; our advance had 
 not been at all covert or stealthy, and as we stepped out 
 from all sides into the open, moonlit space, on a sudden, 
 appalling noise crashed forth point-blank in our faces; jets 
 of fire sprayed from the cabin; invisible bee-like missiles 
 zipped and pinged around; the mountains shouted back 
 Homeric echoes; and I think every individual "squaw" 
 within the walls must have let off a screech at the same time 
 she pulled the trigger. Holiness Farm was "on"! They 
 expected us, and in times of peace had prepared for war ! 
 
 In the following infinitesimally brief pause, there went 
 charging through my head Colonel Harney s order before 
 
624 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 the batteries at the Nino Perdido, to "rush em, boys, before 
 they have time to load again!" But no such haste was 
 necessary; I was the sole creature, apparently, to take our 
 welcome seriously; the whole thing was as inconsequent as 
 a dream. A dying turkey the only person injured in this 
 struggle, as it presently developed began a terific quawking 
 and flopping, and all the poultry at once chorussed stentorian 
 surprise and fright. On the instant the pines and mountain 
 sides reverberated laughter, gay profanity, goblin whoops 
 and jibes. Invitations to try, try again, Brigham! advice 
 on the proper training of a harem, lively unprintable sug 
 gestions, mock reproaches, hailed around. A torch sprang 
 up; in a second, somehow or other, everybody had a torch; 
 and men swarmed over the cabin, burst it in, swept it out, 
 pots, pans, benches, flour-barrels, sides of bacon, shovels, 
 blankets and women ! 
 
 There were only three of them after all, a Mexican scream 
 ing and praying, and two Indian women terribly frightened, 
 but silent, poor creatures, after their kind. They looked like 
 all the rest, dirty and barefoot with their long black hair 
 streaming down homely as sin ! Apart from a little hus 
 tling, nobody offered to molest them ; and, being released, the 
 two Indians fled into the brush and were no more seen. The 
 Mexican (who appeared to be a well-known character in the 
 camps, and was pleasantly hailed by name, Pepita) crouched 
 on the ground whimpering, among the chickens. In the 
 meanwhile the hunt went merrily forward. I took no part; 
 it wasn t expected of me, and I didn t want to bungle the 
 business by interfering. After some uproarious rummaging, 
 half a dozen of them dragged him out triumphantly. They 
 had set fire to the cabin, whether by accident or not I don t 
 know; nobody cared anyhow. The flames went soaring 
 overhead; there stood the proprietor of Holiness Farm, with 
 a blanket wrapped around him, and a beard like a prophet. 
 I believe he had been found under a bunk or in some equally 
 ignoble posture; and his first words in a shrill, trembling 
 voice were: "What is the meaning of this outrage?" 
 
 One or two of the men collapsed on the ground and lay 
 and rolled over, laughing; they all crowded near swearing 
 and chuckling to get a look at him; it seems he rarely let 
 himself be seen and his features were not familiar to the 
 
EXEUNT OMNES 625 
 
 settlement. I took a look, too, but merely to reassure my 
 self, for, Nathan, I knew the voice or the manner or both 
 the minute he spoke. It was George Ducey. 
 
 I cannot tell why I was not more surprised; perhaps I had 
 already reached the limit of excitement. The surprise came 
 later, when I sat down to think it over coolly. At the time, 
 there was something weirdly natural about it; anything 
 all kinds of things happen in California. You get used 
 to it. The last time I saw George was on the wharf at Saint 
 Louis in the nipping dawn, scuttling off with his two bunko 
 ing acquaintances. The underworld had received him 
 why shouldn t he be here ? Except for the beard, he was not 
 much changed; and was as scared and sneaking and pompous 
 and silly all at once as you would expect George to be. I 
 have thought since that he has advanced considerably in the 
 school of scoundrelism since the old days of his first essays; 
 to camp in the Sierras, and get a lot of women to take care of 
 him, and support him and steal for him the exploit shows 
 force and originality. George was always something of a 
 lady-killer, you remember. 
 
 Somebody sang out to cut down the clothes-line, and for 
 one horrible instant, I thought they were going to hang him; 
 in fact, I believe some minds did glance that way. But, 
 "Born to be drowned, you ll never be hanged" and I 
 think George had better look out every time he crosses water. 
 They only tied him up, and put him aside while they 
 gathered up the household goods, and completed the de 
 struction of the cabin. Afterwards there was a court held, 
 with a regular jury drawn by lot, and the " Squire" presiding; 
 it was brutally funny. The court, if you please, appointed 
 Anderson to defend him; and he got up and made a sort of jo 
 cosely moderate speech, pointing out that no one had actually 
 caught the prisoner stealing anything with his own hands, 
 or disposing of anything that could positively be identified 
 as somebody else s property; and that the women were 
 notoriously given to thieving anyhow. "That was about 
 all you could say for him, you know," Anderson remarked to 
 me afterwards. "Anyway you can put it in your book that 
 we did it all regular and according to form, can t you?" 
 
 There was a strong feeling in favor of giving him twenty- 
 five lashes on the bare back, and turning him out of camp 
 2s 
 
626 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 on pain of hanging if he should ever come back ; some petty 
 thieves over at Rose s Bar, they tell me, have been thus 
 served. And as I saw them coming by degrees to that 
 decision, I well, I concluded to get out ! I knew I wouldn t 
 be missed. If ever there was a man who richly deserved 
 twenty-five lashes on his bare back, it was George Ducey. 
 But I couldn t stay to see it. If the whipping could have done 
 him any moral good But he would be the same after 
 twenty whippings. And no matter how much he suffered 
 physically, the real suffering and shame and distress would 
 be for the decent, humane people that had to look on. By 
 heavens, Nathan, since I ve been thinking about it, it s given 
 me a new and painful illumination on the whole subject of 
 punishment for criminals. Something s dreadfully wrong 
 somewhere. 
 
 I say I got up and left the circle just about as the jury were 
 retiring behind the ruins of the cabin which was still burn 
 ing slowly. It had set fire to the underbrush on one side, 
 and some of us had been kept busy beating and tramping it 
 out, for a fire in these mountain-forests during the dry 
 weather spreads forever, and is a very serious matter. I 
 went down to where the horses were tethered, and while 
 I was bothering about in the darkness, trying to find my own, 
 there was another great outburst of yelling, and one or two 
 guns going off up at the late Holiness Farm. They re 
 beginning!" I thought and it was a pretty nauseating 
 thought, Nat, that whip coming down and curling and writh 
 ing all along George s bare back with a sting like a snake. 
 Gr-r-rr! But the racket kept up; everybody seemed to be 
 scattering and screeching. "What on earth ?" I won 
 dered. Then one man after another came threshing through 
 the thickets, swearing and fuming, to his horse. I inquired. 
 George had got away! 
 
 It must have been done while they were at council. I 
 think nobody was paying much attention to the prisoner 
 whom they all knew to be securely tied ; and the danger from 
 the fire had further helped to distract us. They thought 
 Pepita must have crept around to him with a knife and 
 released him. She was gone, too. . . . 
 
 Anderson and I rode back to his cabin together. We left 
 a posse beating the woods, but Anderson said he thought 
 
EXEUNT OMNES 627 
 
 they hadn t much chance of catching his holiness; the Mexi 
 can woman was cunning as a fox, he said, and probably knew 
 every tree and bush on the mountains like a brother, and 
 could walk the trails blindfold; they must have had ten 
 minutes start or more. " He s good and scared anyhow. I 
 guess that s the end of him in Nevada County," he added 
 philosophically; "he knows the boys would string him up 
 next time, sure as death and taxes." 
 
 I daresay Anderson was right. Lord deliver us, Nathan, 
 what a life ! What a life the creature leads ! Slinking from 
 one evil to the next, sliding a little lower and a little lower, 
 missing punishment by a hair s breadth, yet, in one sense, 
 getting punished all the time ! How does he sleep o nights ? 
 What does he look like to himself ? What does he think 
 about honest men ? It s beyond me to guess. I hope I ll 
 never see him again. But of course he ll turn up they 
 always do, to the discomfiture of their respectable families, 
 who are eternally bolstering them up, and paying for them, 
 and shielding them. The more vigorous rascals are soon 
 and sometimes bloodily disposed of. But Tragedy is too 
 great for George; she cannot stoop to him. . . . 
 
 I am writing you this letter at the opening of the New 
 Year; and it comes into my head that it will probably reach 
 you near the time of your wedding a new and beautiful 
 year for you. You will have many such, I am sure. Think 
 of me sometimes, Nat. . . . 
 
 "We can t tell George s mother," Burke said, as Francie 
 and he finished reading the letter, seated comfortably side 
 by side on the sofa; "she doesn t know where he is, and it s 
 just as well." 
 
 "George will come home if ever he hears anything about 
 poor Uncle George s money," said Francie, wisely; "only 
 I suppose that s not very likely, way off there in California." 
 
 "He ll hear," Burke said and laughed; "the world s a 
 small place after all. And it s just as Jim says: there ll 
 always be George." So, indeed, it has proved . But we 
 did not give much thought to him then. 
 
 Francie curled up against her husband s shoulder. "Poor 
 Aunt Anne!" she sighed pityingly, yet with a certain content; 
 poor Aunt Anne ! 
 
628 NATHAN BURKE 
 
 "I hope " Nat began; and then he stopped short in a 
 little confusion. He had actually been on the point of say 
 ing: "I hope we ll never have a son like that!" And, Lord 
 bless me, they had been married less than a fortnight ! But, 
 although he checked that monstrous remark, as I have 
 shown, Francie looked up quickly, reddening high ; and then 
 quickly looked down again. "So do I!" she whispered, 
 playing with the silver quarter on his watch-chain. Perhaps 
 the feeling of it moved her to say after a moment or two: 
 "It seems so strange the way you came into all our lives, 
 Nathan, when you stop to think about it. And then the 
 property your property - 
 
 "I thought we d agreed not to say any more about that," 
 said Nat; "hadn t we? There s only one thing I d like to 
 know ?" 
 
 "Yes?" 
 
 "How on earth did you manage to climb up on the table 
 and down again with that hoop thing on?" 
 
 Here the general s autobiography rather abruptly ends. Whether 
 it was his intention to leave it so on revision, no one, of course, can 
 tell. I felt enough curiosity about some of the persons he mentions 
 to make some inquiry into their fate; and I believe that George 
 Ducey survived nearly all of them ! He was still living in 1898, at a 
 little town in North Carolina; I have not traced him farther. His 
 mother and father, and Burke himself and his wife, had been dead for 
 years. It will, perhaps, have been noticed that the name of Mary 
 Sharpless never appears in the history after the separation; yet in 
 their small social circle it was inevitable that they should meet. 
 There is not much use in speculating as to what Nathan and Mrs. 
 Nathan and Mrs. Andrews, nee Sharpless, said and did on those 
 occasions; it probably bore no reference to what they felt and 
 thought. The last-named died in 1863. 
 
 I also, for my own satisfaction, prevailed on a legal friend to look 
 up that old, dead, and gone, and forgotten matter of the Granger 
 title; he tells me that Mr. Burke had a perfectly valid claim, involv 
 ing the larger part of the Marsh estate, and that it was well worth 
 fighting for, had he chosen. I like him better for not having done 
 so, although he himself speaks of the renunciation as if it were a slight 
 thing. But, indeed, he nowhere seeks to present Nathan Burke in 
 the light of a hero, throughout his modest romance. It is only a 
 plain man s story of his life. EDITOR S NOTE. 
 
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THIS BOOK IS DUE ON THE LAST DATE 
 STAMPED BELOW 
 
 AN INITIAL FINE OF 25 CENTS 
 
 WILL. BE ASSESSED FOR FAILURE TO RETURN 
 THIS BOOK ON THE DATE DUE. THE PENALTY 
 WILL INCREASE TO 5O CENTS ON THE FOURTH 
 DAY AND TO $1.OO ON THE SEVENTH DAY 
 OVERDUE. 
 
 SEP 8 1931 
 
 LD 21-95w-7, 37 
 
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 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY