THE 
 
 CONFIDENCE-MAN: 
 
 HIS MASQUERADE. 
 
 BY 
 
 HERMAN MELVILLE, 
 
 AUTHOR OF "PIAZZA TALES," " OMOO," " TYPEE," 'ETC., ETC. 
 
 NEW YORK: 
 
 DIX, EDWARDS & CO., 321 BROADWAY. 
 
 1857. 
 
Entered, according to act of Congress, in the year 1857, by 
 HERMAN MELVILLE, 
 
 In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for tho 
 Southern District of New York. 
 
 MILLER & HOLMAN, 
 Printers and Stereotypors, N. Y. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 CH APTEE I. 
 
 A mute goes aboard a boat on the Mississippi. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Showing that many men have many minds. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 In which a variety of characters appear. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Renewal of old acquaintance. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 The man with the weed makes it an even question whether he be a great sage 
 or a great simpleton. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 At the outset of which certain passengers prove deaf to the call of charity. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 A gentleman with gold sleeve-buttons. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 A charitable lady. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Two business men transact a little business. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 In the cabin. 
 
IV CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 Only a page or so. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 The story of the unfortunate man, from which may be gathered whether or no 
 he has been justly BO entitled. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 The man with the traveling-cap evinces much humanity, and in a way which 
 would seem to show him to be one of the most logical of optimists. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 Worth the consideration of those to whom it may prove worth considering. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 An old miser, upon suitable representations, is prevailed upon to venture an 
 investment. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 A sick man, after some impatience, is induced to become a patient. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 Towards the end of which the Herb-Doctor proves himself a forgiver of injuries. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 Inquest into the true character of the Herb-Doctor. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 A soldier of fortune. 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 Reappearance of one who may be remembered. 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 A hard case. 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 In the polite spirit of the Tusculan disputations. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 In which the powerful effect of natural scenery is evinced in the case of the 
 Missourian, who, in view of the region round about Cairo, has a return of 
 his chilly fit. 
 
CONTENTS. V 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 A philanthropist undertakes to convert a misanthrope, but does not get beyond 
 9 confuting him. 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 The Cosmopolitan makes an acquaintance. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 Containing the metaphysics of Indian-hating, according to the views of one 
 evidently as prepossessed as Eousseau in favor of savages. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 Some account of a man of questionable morality, but who, nevertheless, would 
 seem entitled to the esteem of that eminent English moralist who said he 
 liked a good hater. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 Moot points touching the late Colonel John Moredock. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 The boon companions. 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 Opening with a poetical eulogy of the Press, and continuing with talk inspired 
 by the same. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 A metamorphosis more surprising than any in Ovid. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 Showing that the age of music and magicians is not yet over. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 Which may pass for whatever it may prove to be worth. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 
 In which the Cosmopolitan tells the story of the gentleman-madman. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXV. 
 
 In which the Cosmopolitan strikingly evinces the artlessness of his nature. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI. 
 
 In which the Cosmopolitan is accosted by a mystic, whereupon ensues pretty 
 much such talk as might be expected. 
 
VI CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVII. 
 
 The mystical master introduces the practical disciple. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVIII. 
 
 The disciple unbends, and consents to act a social part. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIX. 
 
 The hypothetical friends. 
 
 CHAPTER XL. 
 
 In which the story of China Aster is, at second-hand, told by one who, while not 
 disapproving the moral, disclaims the spirit of the style. 
 
 CHAPTER XLI. 
 
 Ending with a rupture of the hypothesis. 
 
 CHAPTER XLII. 
 
 Upon the heel of the last scene, the Cosmopolitan enters the barber's shop, a 
 benediction on his lips. 
 
 CHAPTER X L 1 1 1 . 
 
 Very charming. 
 
 CHAPTER XLIV. 
 
 In which the last three words of the last chapter are made the text of the dis 
 course, which will be sure of receiving more or less attention from those 
 readers who do not skip it. 
 
 CHAPTER XLV. 
 
 The Cosmopolitan increases in seriousness. 
 
THE CONFIDENCE-MAN: 
 
 HIS MASQUERADE, 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 A MUTE GOES ABOARD A BOAT OX THE MISSISSIPPI. 
 
 AT sunrise on a first of April, there appeared, sud 
 denly as Manco Capac at the lake Titicaca, a man in 
 cream-colors, at the water-side in the city of St. Louis. 
 
 His cheek was fair, his chin downy, his hair flaxen, 
 his hat a white fur one, with a long fleecy nap. He 
 had neither trunk, valise, carpet-bag, nor parcel. No 
 porter followed him. He was unaccompanied by 
 friends. From the shrugged shoulders, titters, whis 
 pers, wonderings of the crowd, it was plain that he 
 was, in the extremes t sense of the word, a stranger. 
 
 In the same moment with his advent, he stepped 
 aboard the favorite steamer Fidele, on the point of 
 starting for New Orleans. Stared at, but unsaluted, 
 with the air of one neither courting nor shunning 
 regard, but evenly pursuing the path of duty, lead it 
 through solitudes or cities, he held on his way along 
 
2 THE CONFIDENCE- MAN. 
 
 the lower deck until he chanced to come to a placard 
 nigh the captain's office, offering a reward for the 
 capture of a mysterious impostor, supposed to have 
 recently arrived from the East ; quite an original 
 genius in his vocation, as would appear, though where 
 in his originality consisted was not clearly given ; but 
 what purported to be a careful description of his per 
 son followed. 
 
 As if it had been a theatre-bill, crowds were gathered 
 about the announcement, and among them certain 
 chevaliers, whose eyes, it was plain, were on the capi 
 tals, or, at least, earnestly seeking sight of them from 
 behind intervening coats ; but as for their fingers, they 
 were enveloped in some myth; though, during a chance 
 interval, one of these chevaliers somewhat showed his 
 hand in purchasing from another chevalier, ex-officio a 
 peddler of money-belts, one of his popular safe-guards, 
 while another peddler, who was still another versatile 
 chevalier, hawked, in the thick of the throng, the lives 
 of Measan, the bandit of Ohio, Murrel, the pirate of 
 the Mississippi, and the brothers Harpe, the Thugs 
 of the Green River country, in Kentucky creatures, 
 with others of the^sort, one and all exterminated at the 
 time, and for the most part, like the hunted generations 
 of wolves in the same regions, leaving comparatively 
 few successors ; which would seem cause for unalloyed 
 gratulation, and is such to all except those who think 
 that in new countries, where the wolves are killed off, 
 the foxes increase. 
 
 Pausing at this spot, the stranger so far succeeded 
 
A MUTE GOES ABOARD A BOAT, ETC. 3 
 
 in threading his way, as at last to plant himself just 
 beside the placard, when, producing a small slate and 
 tracing some words upon it, he held it up before him 
 on a level with the placard, so that they who read the 
 one might read the other. The words were these : 
 " Charity thinketh no evil." 
 
 As, in gaining his place, some little perseverance, not 
 to say persistence, of a mildly inoffensive sort, had been 
 unavoidable, it was not with the best relish that the 
 crowd regarded his apparent intrusion ; and upon a 
 more attentive survey, perceiving no badge of autho 
 rity about him, but rather something quite the con 
 trary he being of an aspect so singularly innocent ; 
 an aspect, too, which they took to be somehow inap 
 propriate to the time and place, and inclining to the 
 notion that his writing was of much the same sort : in 
 short, taking him for some strange kind of simpleton, 
 harmless enough, would he keep to himself, but not 
 wholly unobnoxious as an intruder they made no 
 scruple to jostle him aside ; while one, less kind than 
 the rest, or more of a wag, by an unobserved stroke, 
 dexterously flattened down his fleecy hat upon his 
 head. Without readjusting it, the stranger quietly 
 turned, and writing anew upon the slate, again held 
 
 it up : 
 
 " Charity suffereth long, and is kind." 
 
 Illy pleased with his pertinacity, as they thought it, 
 the crowd a second time thrust him aside, and not 
 without epithets and some buffets, all of which were 
 
4 THE CONFIDENCE -MAN. 
 
 unresented. But, as if at last despairing of so difficult 
 an adventure, wherein one, apparently a non-resistant, 
 sought to impose his presence upon fighting characters, 
 the stranger now moved slowly away, yet not before 
 altering his writing to this : 
 
 " Charity endureth all things." 
 
 Shield-like bearing his slate before him, amid stares 
 and jeers he moved slowly up and down, at his turning 
 points again changing his inscription to 
 
 " Charity believeth all things." 
 and then 
 
 " Charity never faileth." 
 
 The word charity, as originally traced, remained 
 throughout uneffaced, not unlike the left-hand numeral 
 of a printed date, otherwise left for convenience in 
 blank. 
 
 To some observers, the singularity, if not lunacy, of 
 the stranger was heightened by his muteness, and, per 
 haps also, by the contrast to his proceedings afforded in 
 the actions quite in the wonted and sensible order of 
 things of 'the barber of the boat, whose quarters, 
 under a smoldng-saloon, and over against a bar-room, 
 was next door but two to the captain's office. As if 
 the long, wide, covered deck, hereabouts built up on 
 both sides with shop-like windowed spaces, were some 
 Constantinople arcade or bazaar, where more than one 
 trade is plied, this river barber, aproned and slippered, 
 but rather crusty-looking for the moment, it may be 
 from being newly out of bed, was throwing open his 
 
A MUTE GOES ABOARD A BOAT, ETC. 5 
 
 premises for the day, and suitably arranging the exte 
 rior. With business-like dispatch, having rattled down 
 his shutters, and at a palm-tree angle set out in the 
 iron fixture his little ornamental pole, and this without 
 overmuch tenderness for the elbows and toes of the 
 crowd, he concluded his operations by bidding people 
 stand still more aside, when, jumping on a stool, he 
 hung over his door, on the customary nail, a gaudy sort 
 of illuminated pasteboard sign, skillfully executed by 
 himself, gilt with the likeness of a razor elbowed in 
 readiness to shave, and also, for the public benefit, with 
 two words not unfrequently seen ashore gracing other 
 shops besides barbers' : 
 
 " No TRUST." 
 
 An inscription which, though in a sense not less in 
 trusive than the contrasted ones of the stranger, did 
 not, as it seemed, provoke any corresponding derision 
 or surprise, much less indignation ; and still less, to all 
 appearances, did it gain for the inscriber the repute of 
 being a simpleton. 
 
 Meanwhile, he with the slate continued moving 
 slowly up and down, not without causing some stares 
 to change into jeers, and some jeers into pushes, and 
 some pushes into punches ; when suddenly, in one of 
 his turns, he was hailed from behind by two porters 
 carrying a large trunk ; but as the summons, though 
 loud, was without effect, they accidentally or otherwise 
 swung their burden against him, nearly overthrowing 
 him ; when, by a quick start, a peculiar inarticulate 
 moan, and a pathetic telegraphing of his fingers, he 
 
6 THE CONFIDENCE-MAN. 
 
 involuntarily betrayed that he was not alone dumb, 
 but also deaf. 
 
 Presently, as if not wholly unaffected by his recep 
 tion thus far, he went forward, seating himself in a 
 retired spot on the forecastle, nigh the foot of a ladder 
 there leading to a deck above, up and down which lad 
 der some of the boatmen, in discharge of their duties, 
 were occasionally going. 
 
 From his betaking himself to this humble quarter, 
 it was evident that, as a deck-passenger, the stranger, 
 simple though he seemed, was not entirely ignorant of 
 his place, though his taking a deck-passage might have 
 been partly for convenience ; as, from his having no 
 luggage, it was probable that his destination was one 
 of the small wayside landings within a few hours' sail. 
 But, though he might not have a long way to go, yet he 
 seemed already to have come from a very long distance. 
 
 Though neither soiled nor slovenly, his cream-col 
 ored suit had a tossed look, almost linty, as if, traveling 
 night and day from some far country beyond the prai 
 ries, he had long been without the solace of a bed. 
 His aspect was at once gentle and jaded, and, from the 
 moment of seating himself, increasing in tired abstrac 
 tion and dreaminess. Gradually overtaken by slum 
 ber, his flaxen head drooped, his whole lamb-like figure 
 relaxed, and, half reclining against the ladder's foot, lay 
 motionless, as some sugar-snow in March, which, softly 
 stealing down over night, with its white placidity star 
 tles the brown farmer peering out from his threshold at 
 daybreak. 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 SHOWING THAT MANY MEN HAVE MANY MINDS. 
 
 Odd fish !" 
 
 " Poor fellow !" 
 
 " Who can he be ?" 
 
 " Casper Hauser." 
 
 " Bless my soul !" 
 
 ' ; Uncommon countenance." 
 
 " Green prophet from Utah." 
 
 " Humbug !" 
 
 " Singular innocence." 
 
 " Means something." 
 
 " Spirit-rapper." 
 
 " Moon-calf." 
 
 " Piteous." 
 
 " Trying to enlist interest.'* 
 
 " Beware of him." 
 
 " Fast asleep here, and, doubtless, pick-pockets on 
 board." 
 
 " Kind of daylight Endymion." 
 
 " Escaped convict, worn out with dodging." 
 
 " Jacob dreaming at Luz." 
 
 Such the epitaphic comments, conflictingly spoken or 
 thought, of a miscellaneous company, who, assembled 
 
8 THE CONFIDENCE- MAN. 
 
 on the overlooking, cross-wise balcony at the forward 
 end of the upper deck near by, had not witnessed pre 
 ceding occurrences. 
 
 Meantime, like some enchanted man in his grave, 
 happily oblivious of all gossip, whether chiseled or 
 chatted, the deaf and dumb stranger still tranquilly 
 slept, while now the boat started on her voyage. 
 
 The great ship-canal of Ving-King-Ching, in the 
 Flowery Kingdom, seems the Mississippi in parts, 
 where, amply flowing between low, vine-tangled 
 banks, flat as tow-paths, it bears the huge toppling 
 steamers, bedizened and lacquered within like impe 
 rial junks. 
 
 Pierced along its great white bulk with two tiers of 
 small embrasure-like windows, well above the water- 
 line, the Fidele, though, might at distance have been 
 taken by strangers for some whitewashed fort on a 
 floating isle. 
 
 Merchants on 'change seem the passengers that buzz 
 on her decks, w r hile, from quarters unseen, comes a mur 
 mur as of bees in the comb. Fine promenades, domed 
 saloons, long galleries, sunny balconies, confidential 
 passages, bridal chambers, state-rooms plenty as pigeon 
 holes, and out-of-the-way retreats like secret drawers 
 in an escritoire, present like facilities for publicity or 
 privacy. Auctioneer or coiner, with equal ease, might 
 somewhere here drive his trade. 
 
 Though her voyage of twelve hundred miles extends 
 from apple to orange, from clime to clime, yet, like 
 any small ferry-boat, to right and left, at every landing, 
 
MANY MEN HAVE MANY MINDS. 9 
 
 the huge Fidele still receives additional passengers in 
 exchange for those that disembark ; so that, though 
 always full of strangers, she continually, in some de 
 gree, adds to, or replaces them with strangers still 
 more strange ; like Rio Janeiro fountain, fed from the 
 Cocovarde mountains, which is ever overflowing with 
 strange waters, but never with the same strange parti 
 cles in every part. 
 
 Though hitherto, as has been seen, the man in 
 cream-colors had by no means passed unobserved, yet 
 by stealing into retirement, and there going asleep 
 and continuing so, he seemed to have courted oblivion, 
 a boon not often withheld from so humble an applicant 
 as he. Those staring crowds on the shore were now 
 left far behind, seen dimly clustering like swallows on 
 eaves ; while the passengers' attention was soon drawn 
 away to the rapidly shooting high bluffs and shot-towers 
 on the Missouri shore, or the bluff-looking Missourians 
 and towering Kentuckians among the throngs on the 
 decks. 
 
 By-and-by two or three random stoppages having 
 been made, and the last transient memory of the slum- 
 berer vanished, and he himself, not unlikely, waked up 
 and landed ere now the crowd, as is usual, began in 
 all parts to break up from a concourse into various 
 clusters or squads, which in some cases disintegrated 
 again into quartettes, trios, and couples, or even soli 
 taires ; involuntarily submitting to that natural law 
 which ordains dissolution equally to the mass, as in 
 
 time to the member. 
 1* 
 
10 THE CONFIDENCE- MAN. 
 
 As among Chaucer's Canterbury pilgrims, or those 
 oriental ones crossing the Red Sea towards Mecca in 
 the festival month, there was no lack of variety. Na 
 tives of all sorts, and foreigners ; men of business and 
 men of pleasure ; parlor men and backwoodsmen ; 
 farm-hunters and fame-hunters ; heiress-hunters, gold- 
 hunters, buffalo-hunters, bee-hunters, happiness-hunt 
 ers, truth-hunters, and still keener hunters after all 
 these hunters. Fine ladies in slippers, and moccasined 
 squaws ; Northern speculators and Eastern philoso 
 phers ; English, Irish, German, Scotch, Danes; Santa 
 Fe traders in striped blankets, and Broadway bucks in 
 cravats of cloth of gold ; fine-looking Kentucky boat 
 men, and Japanese-looking Mississippi cotton-planters ; 
 Quakers in full drab, and United States soldiers in full 
 regimentals ; slaves, black, mulatto, quadroon ; modish 
 young Spanish Creoles, and old-fashioned French Jews ; 
 Mormons and Papists ; Dives and Lazarus; jesters and 
 mourners, teetotalers and convivialists, deacons and 
 blacklegs ; hard-shell Baptists and clay-eaters ; grin 
 ning negroes, and Sioux chiefs solemn as high-priests. 
 In short, a piebald parliament, an Anacharsis Cloots 
 congress of all kinds of that multiform pilgrim species, 
 man. 
 
 As pine, beech, birch, ash, hackmatack, hemlock, 
 spruce, bass-wood, maple, interweave their foliage in 
 the natural wood, so these varieties of mortals blended 
 their varieties of visage and garb. A Tartar-like pic- 
 turesqueness ; a sort of pagan abandonment and assur 
 ance. Here reigned the dashing and all-fusing spirit 
 
MANY MEN HAVE MANY MINDS. 11 
 
 of the West, whose type in the Mississippi itself, which, 
 uniting the streams of the most distant and opposite 
 zones, pours them along, helter-skelter, in one cosmo 
 politan and confident tide. 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 JN WHICH A VARIETY OF CHARACTERS APPEAR. 
 
 IN the forward part of the boat, not the least attract 
 ive object, for a time, was a grotesque negro cripple, in 
 tow-cloth attire and an old coal-sifter of a tamborine 
 in his hand, who, owing to something wrong about his 
 legs, was, in effect, cut down to the stature of a New 
 foundland dog ; his knotted black fleece and good- 
 natured, honest black face rubbing against the upper 
 part of people's thighs as he made shift to shuffle about, 
 making music, such as it was, and raising a smile even 
 from the gravest. It was curious to see him, out of his 
 very deformity, indigence, and houselessness, so cheerily 
 endured, raising mirth in some of that crowd, whose 
 own purses, hearths, hearts, all their possessions, sound 
 limbs included, could not make gay. 
 
 " What is your name, old boy?" said a purple-faced 
 drover, putting his large purple hand on the cripple's 
 bushy wool, as if it were the curled forehead of a black 
 steer. 
 
 " Der Black Guinea dey calls me, sar." 
 
 " And who is your master, Guinea ?" 
 
 " Oh sar, I am der dog widout massa." 
 
A VARIETY OF CHARACTERS APPEAR. 13 
 
 " A free dog, eh ? Well, on your account, I'm sorry 
 for that, Guinea. Dogs without masters fare hard." 
 
 " So dey do, sar ; so dey do. But you see, sar, dese 
 here legs? What ge'mman want to own dese here 
 legs?" 
 
 "But where do you live ?" 
 
 "All 'long shore, sar; dough - now I'se going to 
 see brodder at der landing ; but chiefly I libs in der 
 city." 
 
 " St. Louis, ah ? Where do you sleep there of 
 nights ?" 
 
 " On der floor of der good baker's oven, sar." 
 
 "In an oven ? whose, pray ? What baker, I should 
 like to know, bakes such black bread in his oven, 
 alongside of his nice white rolls, too. Who is that 
 too charitable baker, pray ?" 
 
 " Dar he be," with a broad grin lifting his tambourine 
 high over his head. 
 
 " The sun is the baker, eh ?" 
 
 " Yes sar, in der city dat good baker warms der stones 
 for dis ole darkie when he sleeps out on der pabements 
 o' nights." 
 
 " But that must be in the summer only, old boy. 
 How about winter, when the cold Cossacks come 
 clattering and jingling ? How about winter, old 
 boy?" 
 
 " Den dis poor old darkie shakes werry bad, I tell 
 you, sar. Oh sar, oh ! don't speak ob der winter," he 
 added, with a reminiscent shiver, shuffling off into the 
 thickest of the crowd, like a half-frozen black sheep 
 
14 THE CONFIDENCE- MAN. 
 
 nudging itself a cozy berth in the heart of the white 
 flock. 
 
 Thus far not very many pennies had been given him, 
 and, used at last to his strange looks, the less polite pas 
 sengers of those in that part of the boat began to get 
 their fill of him as a curious object ; when suddenly the 
 negro more than revived their first interest by an expe 
 dient which, whether by chance or design, was a singu 
 lar temptation at once to diversion and charity, though, 
 even more than his crippled limbs, it put him on a 
 canine footing. In short, as in appearance he seemed 
 a dog, so now, in a merry way, like a dog he began to 
 be treated. Still shuffling among the crowd, now and 
 then he would pause, throwing back his head and 
 opening his mouth like an elephant for tossed apples 
 at a menagerie; when, making a space before him, peo 
 ple would have a bout at a strange sort of pitch-penny 
 game, the cripple's mouth being at once target and 
 purse, and he hailing each expertly-caught copper with 
 a cracked bravura from his tambourine. To be the sub 
 ject of alms-giving is trying, and to feel in duty bound 
 to appear cheerfully grateful under the trial, must be 
 still more so ; but whatever his secret emotions, he 
 swallowed them, while still retaining each copper this 
 side the oesophagus. And nearly always he grinned, 
 and only once or twice did he wince, which was when 
 certain coins, tossed by more playful almoners, came 
 inconveniently nigh to his teeth, an accident whose 
 unwelcomeness was not unedged by the circumstance 
 that the pennies thus thrown proved buttons. 
 
A VARIETY OF CHARACTERS APPEAR. 15 
 
 While this game of charity was yet at its height, a 
 limping, gimlet-eyed, sour-faced person it may be 
 some discharged custom-house officer, who, suddenly 
 stripped of convenient means of support, had con 
 cluded to be avenged on government and humanity 
 by making himself miserable for life, either by hating 
 or suspecting everything and everybody this shallow 
 unfortunate, after sundry sorry observations of the ne 
 gro, began to croak out something about his deformity 
 being a sham, got up for financial purposes, which im 
 mediately threw a damp upon the frolic benignities of 
 the pitch-penny players. 
 
 But that these suspicions came from one who him 
 self on a wooden leg went halt, this did not appear to 
 strike anybody present. That cripples, above all men 
 should be companionable, or, at least, refrain from pick 
 ing a fellow-limper to pieces, in short, should have a 
 little sympathy in common misfortune, seemed not to 
 occur to the company. 
 
 Meantime, the negro's countenance, before marked 
 with even more than patient good-nature, drooped 
 into a heavy-hearted expression, full of the most 
 painful distress. So far abased beneath its proper 
 physical level, that Newfoundland-dog face turned in 
 passively hopeless appeal, as if instinct told it that the 
 right or the wrong might not have overmuch to do 
 with whatever wayward mood superior intelligences 
 might yield to. 
 
 But instinct, though knowing, is yet a teacher set 
 below reason, which itself says, in the grave words of 
 
16 THE CONFIDENCE-MAN. 
 
 Lysander in the comedy, after Puck has made a sage of 
 him with his spell : 
 
 " The will of man is by his reason swayed." 
 
 So that, suddenly change as people may, in their dis 
 positions, it is not always waywardness, but improved 
 judgment, which, as in Lysander's case, or the present, 
 operates with them. 
 
 Yes, they began to scrutinize the negro curiously 
 enough ; when, emboldened by this evidence of the 
 efficacy of his words, the wooden-legged man hobbled 
 up to the negro, and, with the air of a beadle, would, 
 to prove his alleged imposture on the spot, have strip 
 ped him and then driven him away, but was prevented 
 by the crowd's clamor, now taking part with the poor 
 fellow, against one who had just before turned nearly 
 all minds the other way. So he with the wooden leg 
 was forced to retire ; when the rest, finding themselves 
 left sole judges in the case, could not resist the oppor 
 tunity of acting the part : not because it is a human 
 weakness to take pleasure in sitting in judgment upon 
 one in a box, as surely this unfortunate negro now 
 was, but that it strangely sharpens human percep 
 tions, when, instead of standing by and having their 
 fellow-feelings touched by the sight of an alleged cul 
 prit severely handled by some one justiciary, a crowd 
 suddenly come to be all justiciaries in the same case 
 themselves ; as in Arkansas once, a man proved guilty, 
 by law, of murder, but whose condemnation was deemed 
 
A VARIETY OP CHARACTERS APPEAR. 17 
 
 unjust by the people, so that they rescued him to try 
 him themselves ; whereupon, they, as it turned out, 
 found him even guiltier than the court had done, and 
 forthwith proceeded to execution ; so that the gallows 
 presented the truly warning spectacle of a man hanged 
 by his friends. 
 
 But not to such extremities, or anything like them, 
 did the present crowd come ; they, for the time, being 
 content with putting the negro fairly and discreetly to 
 the question ; among other things, asking him, had he 
 any documentary proof, any plain paper about him, 
 attesting that his case was not a spurious one. 
 
 " No, no", dis poor ole darkie haint none o' dem walo- 
 able papers," he wailed. 
 
 " But is there not some one who can speak a good 
 word for you ?" here said a person newly arrived from 
 another part of the boat, a young Episcopal clergyman, 
 in a long, straight-bodied black coat ; small in stature, 
 but manly ; with a clear face and blue eye ; innocence, 
 tenderness, and good sense triumvirate in his air. 
 
 "Oh yes, oh yes, ge'mmen,"-he eagerly answered, 
 as if his memory, before suddenly frozen up by cold 
 charity, as suddenly thawed back into fluidity at the 
 first kindly word. " Oh yes, oh yes, dar is aboard here 
 a werry nice, good ge'mman wid a weed, and a ge'mman 
 in a gray coat and white tie, what knows all about me ; 
 and a ge'mman wid a big book, too; and a yarb-doctor; 
 and a ge'mman in a yaller west ; and a ge'mman wid a 
 brass plate ; and a ge'mman in a wiolet robe ; and a 
 ge'mman as is a sodjer; and ever so many good, kind, 
 
18 THE CONFIDENCE -MAN. 
 
 honest ge'mmen more aboard what knows me and will 
 speak for me, God bress 'em ; yes, and what knows me 
 as well as dis poor old darkle knows hisself, God bress 
 him ! Oh, find 'em, find 'em," he earnestly added, "and 
 let 'em come quick, and show you all, ge'mmen, dat dis 
 poor ole darkie is werry well wordy of all you kind 
 ge'mmen's kind confidence." 
 
 " But how are we to find all these people in this 
 great crowd ?" was the question of a bystander, um 
 brella in hand ; a middle-aged person, a country mer 
 chant apparently, whose natural good-feeling had been 
 made at least cautious by the unnatural ill-feeling of 
 the discharged custom-house officer. 
 
 " Where are we to find them ?" half-rebukefully 
 echoed the young Episcopal clergymen. " I will go 
 find one to begin with," he quickly added, and, with 
 kind haste suiting the action to the word, away he 
 went. 
 
 " Wild goose chase !" croaked he with the wooden 
 leg, now again drawing. nigh. "Don't believe there's 
 a soul of them aboard. Did ever beggar have such 
 heaps of fine friends ? He can walk fast enough when 
 he tries, a good deal faster than I ; but he can lie yet 
 faster. He's some white operator, betwisted and 
 painted up for a decoy. He and his friends are all 
 humbugs." 
 
 " Have you no chanty, friend ?" here in self-subdued 
 tones, singularly contrasted with his unsubdued person, 
 said a Methodist minister, advancing ; a tall, muscular, 
 martial-looking man, a Tennessean by birth, who in the 
 
A VARIETY OF CHARACTERS APPEAR. 19 
 
 Mexican war had been volunteer chaplain to a volunteer 
 rifle-regiment. 
 
 " Charity is one thing, and truth is another," rejoined 
 he with the wooden leg : " he's a rascal, I say." 
 
 " But why not, friend, put as charitable a construc 
 tion as one can upon the poor fellow?" said the soldier 
 like Methodist, with increased difficulty maintaining a 
 pacific demeanor towards one whose own asperity 
 seemed so little to entitle him to it : "he looks hon 
 est, don't he ?" 
 
 " Looks are one thing, and facts are another," snap 
 ped out the other perversely; "and as to your construc 
 tions, what construction can you put upon a rascal, but 
 that a rascal he is ?" 
 
 " Be not such a Canada thistle," urged the Methodist, 
 with something less of patience than before. " Charity, 
 man, chanty." 
 
 " To where it belongs with your charity ! to heaven 
 with it!" again snapped out the other, diabolically; 
 " here on earth, true charity dotes, and false charity 
 plots. Who betrays a fool with a kiss, the charitable 
 fool has the charity to believe is in love with him, 
 and the charitable knave on the stand gives charitable 
 testimony for his comrade in the box." 
 
 " Surely, friend," returned the noble Methodist, with 
 much ado restraining his still waxing indignation 
 " surely, to say the least, you forget yourself. Apply 
 it home," he continued, with exterior calmness tremu 
 lous with inkept emotion. " Suppose, now, I should 
 exercise no chanty in judging your own character by 
 
20 THE CONFIDENCE- MAN. 
 
 the words which have fallen from you ; what sort of 
 vile, pitiless man do you think I would take you for?" 
 
 " No doubt" with a grin " some such pitiless man 
 as has lost his piety in much the same way that the 
 jockey loses his honesty." 
 
 " And how is that, friend ?" still conscientiously 
 holding back the old Adam in him, as if it were a 
 mastiff he had by the neck. 
 
 "Never you mind how it is" with a sneer; "but 
 all horses aint virtuous, no more than all men kind ; 
 and .come close to, and much dealt with, some things 
 are catching. When you find me a virtuous jockey, I 
 will find you a benevolent wise man." 
 
 " Some insinuation there." 
 
 " More fool you that are puzzled by it." 
 
 " Reprobate !" cried the other, his indignation now 
 at last almost boiling over ; " godless reprobate ! if 
 charity did not restrain me, I could call you by names 
 you deserve." 
 
 " Could you, indeed ?" with an insolent sneer. 
 
 " Yea, and teach you charity on the spot," cried the 
 goaded Methodist, suddenly catching this exasperating 
 opponent by his shabby coat-collar, and shaking him 
 till his timber-toe clattered on the deck like a nine-pin. 
 " You took me for a non-combatant did you? thought, 
 seedy coward that you are, that you could abuse a 
 Christian with impunity. You find your mistake" 
 with another hearty shake. 
 
 " Well said and better done, church militant !" cried 
 a voice. 
 
A VARIETY OF CHARACTERS APPEAR. 21 
 
 " The white cravat against the world !" cried an 
 other. 
 
 *' Bravo, bravo !" chorused many voices, with like 
 enthusiasm taking sides with the resolute champion. 
 
 " You fools !" cried he with the wooden leg, writh 
 ing himself loose and inflamedly turning upon the 
 throng; "you flock of fools, under this captain of fools, 
 in this ship of fools !" 
 
 With which exclamations, followed by idle threats 
 against his admonisher, this condign victim to justice 
 hobbled away, as disdaining to hold further argument 
 with such a rabble. But his scorn was more than 
 repaid by the hisses that chased him, in which the 
 brave Methodist, satisfied with the rebuke already 
 administered, was, to omit still better reasons, too 
 magnanimous to join. All he said was, pointing to 
 wards the departing recusant, " There he shambles off 
 on his one lone leg, emblematic of his one-sided view 
 of humanity." 
 
 " But trust your painted decoy," retorted the other 
 from a distance, pointing back to the black cripple, 
 " and I have my revenge." 
 
 " But we aint agoing to trust him !" shouted back a 
 voice. 
 
 " So much the better," he jeered back. " Look 
 you," he added, coming to a dead halt where he was ; 
 " look you, I have been called a Canada thistle. Very 
 good. And a seedy one : still better. And the seedy 
 Canada thistle has been pretty well shaken among ye 
 best of all. Dare say some seed has been shaken out ; 
 
22 THE CONFIDENCE- MAN. 
 
 and won't it spring though ? And when it does spring, 
 do you cut down the young thistles, and won't they 
 spring the more ? It's encouraging and coaxing 'em. 
 Now, when with my thistles your farms shall be well 
 stocked, why then you may abandon 'em!" 
 
 "What does all that mean, now?" asked the country 
 merchant, staring. 
 
 "Nothing; the foiled wolf's parting howl," said the 
 Methodist* " Spleen, much spleen, which is the rick 
 ety child of his evil heart of unbelief: it has made him 
 mad. I suspect him for one naturally reprobate. Oh, 
 friends," raising his arms as in the pulpit, " oh beloved, 
 how are we admonished by the melancholy spectacle of 
 this raver. Let us profit by the lesson ; and is it not 
 this : that if, next to mistrusting Providence, there be 
 aught that man should pray against, it is against mis 
 trusting his fellow-man. I have been in mad-houses 
 full of tragic mopers. and seen there the end of suspi 
 cion : the cynic, in the moody madness muttering in 
 the corner ; for years a barren fixture there ; head lop 
 ped over, gnawing his own lip, vulture of himself; 
 while, by fits and starts, from the corner opposite came 
 the grimace of the idiot at him." 
 
 " What an example," whispered one. 
 
 " Might deter Timon," was the response. 
 
 " Oh, oh, good ge'mmen, have you no confidence in 
 dis poor ole darkle?" now wailed the returning negro, 
 who, during the late scene, had stumped apart in 
 alarm. 
 
 " Confidence in you ?" echoed he who had whispered, 
 
A VARIETY OF CHARACTERS APPEAR. 23 
 
 with abruptly changed air turning short round ; " that 
 remains to be seen." 
 
 " I tell you what it is, Ebony," in similarly changed 
 tones said he who had responded to the whisperer, 
 " yonder churl," pointing toward the wooden leg in 
 the distance, " is, no doubt, a churlish fellow enough, 
 and I would not wish to be like him ; but that is no 
 reason why you may not be some sort of black Jeremy 
 Diddler." 
 
 " No confidence in dis poor ole darkie, den ?" 
 
 " Before giving you our confidence," said a third, 
 " we will wait the report of the kind gentleman, who 
 went in search of one of your friends who was to speak 
 for you." 
 
 " Very likely, in that case," said a fourth, " we shall 
 wait here till Christmas. Shouldn't wonder, did we not 
 see that kind gentleman again. After seeking awhile in 
 vain, he will conclude he has been made a fool of, and 
 so not return to us for pure shame. Fact is, I begin to 
 feel a little qualmish about the darkie myself. Some 
 thing queer about this darkie, depend upon it." 
 
 Once more the negro wailed, and turning in despair 
 from the last speaker, imploringly caught the Methodist 
 by the skirt of his coat. But a change had come over 
 that before impassioned intercessor. With an irreso 
 lute and troubled air, he mutely eyed the suppliant ; 
 against whom, somehow, by what seemed instinctive 
 influences, the distrusts first set on foot were now gen 
 erally reviving, and, if anything, with added severity. 
 
 " No confidence in dis poor ole darkie," yet again 
 
24 THE CONFIDENCE- MAN. 
 
 wailed the negro, letting go the coat-skirts and turning 
 appealingly all round him. 
 
 " Yes, my poor fellow, I have confidence in you," 
 now exclaimed the country merchant before named, 
 whom the negro's appeal, coming so piteously on the 
 heel of pitilessness, seemed at last humanely to have 
 decided in his favor. " And here, here is some proof 
 of my trust," with which, tucking his umbrella under 
 his arm, and diving down his hand into his pocket, he 
 fished forth a purse, and, accidentally, along with it, 
 his business card, which, unobserved, dropped to the 
 deck. " Here, here, my poor fellow," he continued, 
 extending a half dollar. 
 
 Not more grateful for the coin than the kindness, the 
 cripple's face glowed like a polished copper saucepan, 
 and shuffling a pace nigher, with one upstretched hand 
 he received the alms, while, as unconsciously, his one 
 advanced leather stump covered the card. 
 
 Done in despite of the general sentiment, the good 
 deed of the merchant was not, perhaps, without its 
 unwelcome return from the crowd, since that good deed 
 seemed somehow to convey to them a sort of reproach. 
 Still again, and more pertinaciously than ever, the cry 
 arose against the negro, and still again he wailed forth 
 his lament and appeal ; among other things, repeating 
 that the friends, of whom already he had partially run 
 off the list, would freely speak for him, would anybody 
 go find them. 
 
 " Why don't you go find 'em yourself?" demanded a 
 gruff boatman. 
 
A VARIETY OF CHARACTERS APPEAR. 25 
 
 " How can I go find 'em myself? Dis poor ole 
 game-legged darkie's friends must come to him. Oh, 
 whar, whar is dat good friend of dis darkie's, dat good 
 man wid de weed?" 
 
 At this point, a steward ringing a bell came along, 
 summoning all persons who had not got their tickets to 
 step to the captain's office ; an announcement which 
 speedily thinned the throng about the black cripple, 
 who himself soon forlornly stumped out of sight, 
 probably on much the same errand as the rest. 
 2 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 RENEWAL OF OLD ACQUAINTANCE. 
 
 " How do you do, Mr. Roberts?" 
 
 "Eh?" 
 
 " Don't you know me?" 
 
 "No, certainly." 
 
 The crowd about the captain's office, having in good 
 time melted away, the above encounter took place in 
 one of the side balconies astern, between a man in 
 mourning clean and respectable, but none of the glossiest, 
 a long weed on his hat, and the country-merchant be 
 fore-mentioned, whom, with the familiarity of an old 
 acquaintance, the former had accosted. 
 
 " Is it possible, my dear sir," resumed he with the 
 weed, " that you do not recall my countenance? why 
 yours I recall distinctly as if but half an hour, instead of 
 half an age, had passed since I saw you. Don't you 
 recall me, now ? Look harder." 
 
 " In my conscience truly I protest," honestly 
 bewildered, "bless ray soul, sir, I don't know you 
 really, really. But stay, stay," he hurriedly added, not 
 without gratification, glancing up at the crape on the 
 stranger's hat, " stay yes seems to me, though I have 
 
RENEWAL OF OLD ACQUAINTANCE. 27 
 
 not the pleasure of personally knowing you, yet I am 
 pretty sure I have at least heard of you, and recently 
 too, quite recently. A poor negro aboard here referred 
 to you, among others, for a character, I think." 
 
 " Oh, the cripple. Poor fellow. I know him well. 
 They found me. I have said all I could for him. I think 
 I abated their distrust. Would I could have been of 
 more substantial service. And apropos, sir," he added, 
 " now that it strikes me, allow me to ask, whether the 
 circumstance of one man, however humble, referring fora 
 character to another man, however afflicted, does not 
 argue more or less of moral worth in the latter ?" 
 
 The good merchant looked puzzled. 
 
 " Still you don't recall my countenance?" 
 
 " Still does truth compel me to say that I cannot, 
 despite my best efforts," was the reluctantly-candid reply. 
 
 " Can I be so changed? Look at me. Or is it I who 
 am mistaken? Are you not, sir, Henry Koberts, for 
 warding merchant, of Wheeling, Pennsylvania? Pray, 
 now, if you use the advertisement of business cards, 
 and happen to have one with you, just look at it, and see 
 whether you are not the man I take you for." 
 
 " Why," a bit chafed, perhaps, " I hope I know my 
 self." 
 
 " And yet self-knowledge is thought by some not so 
 easy. Who knows, my dear sir, but for a time you may 
 have taken yourself for somebody else ? Stranger things 
 have happened." 
 
 The good merchant stared. 
 
 u To come to particulars, my dear sir, I met you, now 
 
28 THE CONFIDENCE- MAN. 
 
 some six years back, at Brade Brothers & Co.'s office, I 
 think. I was traveling for a Philadelphia house. The 
 senior Brade introduced us, you remember; some bu 
 siness-chat followed, then you forced me home with you 
 to a family tea, and a family time we had. Have you 
 forgotten about the urn, and what I said about Werter's 
 Charlotte, and the bread and butter, and that capital 
 story you told of the large loaf. A hundred times since, 
 I have laughed over it. At least you must recall my 
 name Kingman, John Ringman." 
 
 "Large loaf? Invited you to tea ? Ringman? Ring 
 man? Ring? Ring?" 
 
 "Ah sir," sadly smiling, don't ring the changes that 
 way. I see you have a faithless memory, Mr. Roberts. 
 But trust in the faithfulness of mine." 
 
 "Well, to tell the truth, in some things my memory 
 aint of the very best," was the honest rejoinder. "But 
 still," he perplexedly added, "still I" 
 
 "Oh sir, suffice it that it is as I say. Doubt not that 
 we are all well acquainted." 
 
 " But but I don't like this going dead against my 
 own memory; I " 
 
 " But didn't you admit, my dear sir, that in some 
 things this memory of yours is a little faithless? Now, 
 those who have faithless memories, should they not have 
 some little confidence in the less faithless memories of 
 others?" 
 
 " But, of this friendly chat and tea, I have not the 
 slightest " 
 
 "I see, I see; quite erased from the tablet. Pray, 
 
RENEWAL OF OLD ACQUAINTANCE. 29 
 
 sir," with a sudden illumination, " about six years back, 
 did it happen to you to receive any injury on the head? 
 Surprising effects have arisen from such a cause. Not 
 alone unconsciousness as to events for a greater or less 
 time immediately subsequent to the injury, but likewise 
 strange to add oblivion, entire and incurable, as to 
 events embracing a longer or shorter period immedi 
 ately preceding it ; that is, when the mind at the time 
 was perfectly sensible of them, and fully competent also 
 to register them in the memory, and did in fact so do ; 
 but all in vain, for all was afterwards bruised out by 
 the injury." 
 
 After the first start, the merchant listened with what 
 appeared more than ordinary interest. The other pro 
 ceeded : 
 
 "In my boyhood I was kicked by a horse, and lay 
 insensible for a long time. Upon recovering, what a 
 blank ! No faintest trace in regard to how I had come 
 near the horse, or what horse it was, or where it was, or 
 that it was a horse at all that had brought me to that 
 pass. For the knowledge of those particulars I am in 
 debted solely to my friends, in whose statements, I need 
 not say, I place implicit reliance, since particulars of 
 some sort there must have been, and why should they 
 deceive me? You see, sir, the mind is ductile, very 
 much so : but images, ductilely received into it, need a 
 certain time to harden and bake in their impressions, 
 otherwise such a casualty as I speak of will in an instant 
 obliterate them, as though they had never been. We 
 are but clay, sir, potter's clay, as the good book says, 
 
30 THE CONFIDENCE-MAN. 
 
 clay, feeble, and too-yielding clay. But I will not phi 
 losophize. Tell me, was it your misfortune to receive 
 any concussion upon the brain about the period I speak 
 of? If so, I will with pleasure supply the void in your 
 memory by more minutely rehearsing the circumstances 
 of our acquaintance." 
 
 The growing interest betrayed by the merchant had 
 not relaxed as the other proceeded. After some hesita 
 tion, indeed, something more than hesitation, he con 
 fessed that, though he had never received any injury of 
 the sort named, yet, about the time in question, he had 
 in fact been taken with a brain fever, losing his mind 
 completely for a considerable interval. He was con 
 tinuing, when the stranger with much animation ex 
 claimed : 
 
 " There now, you see, I was not wholly mistaken. 
 That brain fever accounts for it all." 
 
 " Nay ; but" 
 
 " Pardon me, Mr. Roberts," respectfully interrupting 
 him, " but time is short, and I have something private 
 and particular to say to you. Allow me." 
 
 Mr. Roberts, good man, could but acquiesce, and the 
 two having silently walked to a less public spot, the man 
 ner of the man with the weed suddenly assumed a serious 
 ness almost painful. What might be called a writhing 
 expression stole over him. He seemed struggling with 
 some disastrous necessity inkept. He made one or two 
 attempts to speak, but words seemed to choke him. 
 His companion stood in humane surprise, wondering 
 what was to come. At length, with an effort mas- 
 
RENEWAL OF OLD ACQUAINTANCE. 31 
 
 tering his feelings, in a tolerably composed tone he 
 spoke : 
 
 "If I remember, you are a mason, Mr. Roberts?" 
 
 "Yes, yes." 
 
 Averting himself a moment, as to recover from a re 
 turn of agitation, the stranger grasped the other's hand; 
 "and would you not loan a brother a shilling if he 
 needed it?" 
 
 The merchant started, apparently, almost as if to re 
 treat. 
 
 " Ah, Mr. Roberts, I trust you are not one of those 
 business men, who make a business of never having to 
 do with unfortunates. For God's sake don't leave me. 
 I have something on my heart on my heart. Under 
 deplorable circumstances thrown among strangers, ut 
 ter strangers. I want a friend in whom I may confide. 
 Yours, Mr. Roberts, is almost the first known face I've 
 seen for many weeks." 
 
 It was so sudden an outburst ; the interview offered 
 such a contrast to the scene around, that the merchant, 
 though not used to be very indiscreet, yet, being not 
 entirely inhumane, remained not entirely unmoved. 
 
 The other, still tremulous, resumed : 
 
 " I need not say, sir, how it cuts me to the soul, to 
 follow up a social salutation with such words as have 
 just been mine. I know that I jeopardize your good opin 
 ion. But I can't help it : necessity knows no law, and 
 heeds no risk. Sir, we are masons, one more step aside ; 
 I will tell you my story." 
 
 In a low, half-suppressed tone, he began it. Judging 
 
32 THE CONFIDENCE-MAN. 
 
 from his auditor's expression, it seemed to be a tale of 
 singular interest, involving calamities against which no 
 integrity, no forethought, no energy, no genius, no piety, 
 could guard. 
 
 At every disclosure, the hearer's commiseration in 
 creased. No sentimental pity. As the story went on, 
 he drew from his wallet a bank note, but after a while, 
 at some still more unhappy revelation, changed it for 
 another, probably of a somewhat larger amount ; which, 
 when the story was concluded, with an air studiously 
 disclamatory of alms-giving, he put into the stranger's 
 hands ; who, on his side, with an air studiously disclama 
 tory of alms-taking, put it into his pocket. 
 
 Assistance being received, the stranger's manner as 
 sumed a kind and degree of decorum which, under the 
 circumstances, seemed almost coldness. After some words, 
 not over ardent, and yet not exactly inappropriate, he 
 took leave, making a bow which had one knows not 
 what of a certain chastened independence about it ; as 
 if misery, however burdensome, could not break down 
 self-respect, nor gratitude, however deep, humiliate a 
 gentleman. 
 
 He was hardly yet out of sight, when he paused as if 
 thinking ; then with hastened steps returning to the 
 merchant, " I am just reminded that the president, who 
 is also transfer-agent, of the Black Rapids Coal Company, 
 happens to be on board here, and, having been subpoe 
 naed as witness in a stock case on the docket in Ken 
 tucky, has his transfer-book with him. A month since, 
 in a panic contrived by artful alarmists, some credulous 
 
RENEWAL OF OLD ACQUAINTANCE. 33 
 
 stock-holders sold out ; but, to frustrate the aim of the 
 alarmists, the Company, previously advised of their 
 scheme, so managed it as to get into its own hands those 
 sacrificed shares, resolved that, since a spurious panic 
 must be, the panic-makers should be no gainers by it. 
 The Company, I hear, is now ready, but not anxious, to 
 redispose of those shares ; and having obtained them at 
 their depressed value, will now sell them at par, though, 
 prior to the panic, they were held at a handsome figure 
 above. That the readiness of the Company to do this 
 is not generally known, is shown by the fact that the 
 stock still stands on the transfer-book in the Company's 
 name, offering to one in funds a rare chance for invest 
 ment. For, the panic subsiding more and more every 
 day, it will daily be seen how it originated ; confidence 
 will be more than restored ; there will be a reaction ; 
 from the stock's descent its rise will be higher than from 
 no fall, the holders trusting themselves to fear no se 
 cond fate." 
 
 Having listened at first with curiosity, at last with 
 interest, the merchant replied to the effect, that some 
 time since, through friends concerned with it, he had 
 heard of the company, and heard well of it, but was igno 
 rant that there had latterly been fluctuations. He added 
 that he was no speculator ; that hitherto he had avoided 
 having to do with stocks of any sort, but in the present 
 case he really felt something like being tempted. "Pray," 
 in conclusion, " do you think that upon a pinch anything 
 could be transacted on board here with the transfer- 
 agent ? Are you acquainted with him ?" 
 2* 
 
34 THE CONFIDENCE-MAN. 
 
 " Not personally. I but happened to hear that he 
 was a passenger. For the rest, though it might be 
 somewhat informal, the gentleman might not object to 
 doing a little business on board. Along the Mississippi, 
 you know, business is not so ceremonious as at the 
 East." 
 
 " True," returned the merchant, and looked down a 
 moment in thought, then, raising his head quickly, said, 
 in a tone not so benign as his wonted one, " This would 
 seem a rare chance, indeed ; why, upon first hearing it, 
 did you not snatch at it ? I mean for yourself!" 
 
 " I ? would it had been possible !" 
 
 Not without some emotion was this said, and not 
 without some embarrassment was the reply. " Ah, yes, 
 I had forgotten." 
 
 Upon this, the stranger regarded him with mild gravi 
 ty, not a little disconcerting; the more so, as there was 
 in it what seemed the aspect not alone of the superior, 
 but, as it were, the rebuker ; which sort of bearing, in 
 a beneficiary towards his benefactor, looked strangely 
 enough ; none the less, that, somehow, it sat not alto 
 gether unbecomingly upon the beneficiary, being free 
 from anything like the appearance of assumption, and 
 mixed with a kind of painful conscientiousness, as 
 though nothing but a proper sense of what he owed to 
 himself swayed him. At length he spoke : 
 
 " To reproach a penniless man with remissness in not 
 availing himself of an opportunity for pecuniary invest 
 ment but, no, no ; it was forgetfulness ; and this, 
 charity will impute to some lingering effect of that un- 
 
RENEWAL OF OLD ACQUAINTANCE. 35 
 
 fortunate brain-fever, which, as to occurrences dating 
 yet further back, disturbed Mr. Roberts's memory still 
 more seriously." 
 
 " As to that," said the merchant, rallying, " I am 
 not" 
 
 " Pardon me, but you must admit, that just now, an 
 unpleasant distrust, however vague, was yours. Ah, 
 shallow as it is, yet, how subtle a -thing is suspicion, 
 which at times can invade the humanest of hearts and 
 wisest of heads. But, enough. My object, sir, in call 
 ing your attention to this stock, is by way of acknow 
 ledgment of your goodness. I but seek to be grateful ; 
 if my information leads to nothing, you must remember 
 the motive." 
 
 He bowed, and finally retired, leaving Mr. Roberts 
 not wholly without self-reproach, for having momenta 
 rily indulged injurious thoughts against one who, it was 
 evident, was possessed of a self-respect which forbade 
 his indulging them himself. 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE MAN WITH THE WEED MAKES IT AN EVEN QUESTION WHETHER 
 HE BE A GREAT SAGE OR A GREAT SIMPLETON. 
 
 " WELL, there is sorrow in the world, but goodness 
 too ; and goodness that is not greenness, either, no more 
 than sorrow is. Dear good man. Poor beating heart !" 
 
 It was the man with the weed, not very long after 
 quitting the merchant, murmuring to himself with his 
 hand to his side like one with the heart-disease. 
 
 Meditation over kindness received seemed to have 
 softened him something, too, it may be, beyond what 
 might, perhaps, have been looked for from one whose 
 unwonted self-respect in the hour of need, and in the act 
 of being aided, might have appeared to some not wholly 
 unlike pride out of place ; and pride, in any place, is 
 seldom very feeling. But the truth, perhaps, is, that 
 those who are least touched with that vice, besides be 
 ing not unsusceptible to goodness, are sometimes the 
 ones whom a ruling sense of propriety makes appear 
 cold, if not thankless, under a favor. For, at such a 
 time, to be full of warm, earnest words, and heart-felt 
 protestations, is to create a scene ; and well-bred peo 
 ple dislike few things more than that ; which would 
 
THE MAN WITH THE WEED, ETC. 37 
 
 seem to look as if the world did not relish earnestness ; 
 but, not so ; because the world, being earnest itself, likes 
 an earnest scene, and an earnest man, very well, but 
 only in their place the stage. See what sad work they 
 make of it, who, ignorant of this, flame out in Irish 
 enthusiasm and with Irish sincerity, to a benefactor, 
 who, if a man of sense and respectability, as well as 
 kindliness, can but be more or less annoyed by it; 
 and, if of a nervously fastidious nature, as some are, 
 may be led to think almost as much less favorably of 
 the beneficiary paining him by his gratitude, as if he had 
 been guilty of its contrary, instead only of an indiscre 
 tion. But, beneficiaries who know better, though they 
 may feel as much, if not more, neither inflict such pain, 
 nor are inclined to run any risk of so doing. And these, 
 being wise, are the majority. By which one sees how 
 inconsiderate those persons are, who, from the absence 
 of its officious manifestations in the world, complain that 
 there is not much gratitude extant ; when the truth is, 
 that there is as much of it as there is of modesty ; but, 
 both being for the most part votarists of the shade, for 
 the most part keep out of sight. 
 
 What started this was, to account, if necessary, for 
 the changed air of the man with the weed, who, throw 
 ing off in private the cold garb of decorum, and so giv 
 ing warmly loose to his genuine heart, seemed almost 
 transformed into another being. This subdued air of 
 softness, too, was toned with melancholy, melancholy 
 unreserved ; a thing which, however at variance with 
 propriety, still the more attested his earnestness ; for 
 
38 THE CONFIDENCE- MAN. 
 
 one knows not how it is, but it sometimes happens that, 
 where earnestness is, there, also, is melancholy. 
 
 At the time, he was leaning over the rail at the boat's 
 side, in his pensiveuess, unmindful of another pensive 
 figure near a young gentleman with a swan-neck, 
 wearing a lady-like open shirt collar, thrown back, and 
 tied with a black ribbon. From a square, tableted 
 broach, curiously engraved with Greek characters, he 
 seemed a collegian not improbably, a sophomore on 
 his travels; possibly, his first. A small book bound in 
 Roman vellum was in his hand. 
 
 Overhearing his murmuring neighbor, the youth 
 regarded him with some surprise, not to say interest. 
 But, singularly for a collegian, being apparently of a 
 retiring nature, he did not speak ; when the other still 
 more increased his diffidence by changing from soliloquy 
 to colloquy, in a manner strangely mixed of familiarity 
 and pathos. 
 
 " Ah, who is this ? You. did not hear me, my young 
 friend, did you? Why, you, too, look sad. My melan 
 choly is not catching !" 
 
 " Sir, sir," stammered the other. 
 
 " Pray, now," with a sort of sociable sorrowfulness, 
 slowly sliding along the rail, " Pray, now, my young 
 friend, what volume have you there ? Give me leave," 
 gently drawing it from him. "Tacitus!" Then open 
 ing it at random, read : "In general a black and shame 
 ful period lies before me." " Dear young sir," touching 
 his arm alarmedly, " don't read this book. It is poi 
 son, moral poison. Even were there truth in Tacitus, 
 
THE MAN WITH THE WEED, ETC. 39 
 
 such truth would have the operation of falsity, and so 
 still be poison, moral poison. Too well I know this 
 Tacitus. In my college-days he came near souriner me 
 into cynicism. Yes, I began to turn down my collar, 
 and go about with a disdainfully joyless expression." 
 
 "Sir, sir, I I" 
 
 " Trust me. Now, young friend, perhaps you think 
 that Tacitus, like me, is only melancholy ; but he's more 
 he's ugly. A vast difference, young sir, between the 
 melancholy view and the ugly. The one may show the 
 world still beautiful, not so the other. The one may be 
 compatible with benevolence, the other not. The one 
 may deepen insight, the other shallows it. Drop Taci 
 tus. Phrenologically, my young friend, you would 
 seem to have a well-developed head, and large ; but 
 cribbed within the ugly view, the Tacitus view, your 
 large brain, like your large ox in the contracted field, 
 will but starve the more. And don't dream, as some of 
 you students may, that, by taking this same ugly view, 
 the deeper meanings of the deeper books will so alone 
 become revealed to you. Drop Tacitus. His subtlety 
 is falsity. To him, in his double-refined anatomy of 
 human nature, is well applied the Scripture saying 
 ' There is a subtle man, and the same is deceived.' Drop 
 Tacitus. Come, now, let me throw the book over 
 board." 
 
 "Sir, I I" 
 
 " Not a word ; I know just what is in your mind, and 
 that is just what I am speaking to. Yes, learn from me 
 that, though the sorrows of the world are great, its 
 
40 THE CONFIDENCE- MAN. 
 
 wickedness that is, its ugliness is small. Much cause 
 to pity man, little to distrust him. I myself have known 
 adversity, and know it still. But for that, do I turn 
 cynic ? No, no : it is small beer that sours. To my 
 fellow-creatures I owe alleviations. So, whatever I 
 may have undergone, it but deepens my confidence in 
 my kind. Now, then" (winningly), " this book will 
 you let me drown it for you ?" 
 
 "Really, sir I" 
 
 " I see, I see. But of course you read Tacitus in order 
 to aid you in understanding human nature as if truth 
 was ever got at by libel. My young friend, if to know 
 human nature is your object, drop Tacitus and go north 
 to the cemeteries of Auburn and Greenwood." 
 
 " Upon my word, I I " 
 
 " Nay, I foresee all that. But you carry Tacitus, 
 that shallow Tacitus. What do I carry ? See" pro 
 ducing a pocket-volume " Akenside his * Pleasures 
 of Imagination.' One of these days you will know it. 
 Whatever our lot, we should read serene and cheery 
 books, fitted to inspire love and trust. But Tacitus ! I 
 have long been of opinion that these classics are the bane 
 of colleges ; for not to hint of the % immorality of Ovid, 
 Horace, Anacreon, and the rest, and the dangerous theo 
 logy of Eschylus and others where will one find views 
 so injurious to human nature as in Thucydides, Juvenal, 
 Lucian, but more particularly Tacitus ? When I con 
 sider that, ever since the revival of learning, these classics 
 have been the favorites of successive generations of stu 
 dents and studious men, I tremble to think of that mass 
 
THE MAN WITH THE WEED, ETC. 41 
 
 of unsuspected heresy on every vital topic which for 
 centuries must have simmered unsurmised in the heart 
 of Christendom. But Tacitus he is the most extraordi 
 nary example of a heretic ; not one iota of confidence in 
 his kind. What a mockery that such an one should be 
 reputed wise, and Thucydides be esteemed the states 
 man's manual! But Tacitus I hate Tacitus; not, 
 though, I trust, with the hate that sins, but a righteous 
 hate. Without confidence himself, Tacitus destroys it 
 in all his readers. Destroys confidence, paternal confi 
 dence, of which God knows that there is in this world 
 none to spare. For, comparatively inexperienced as you 
 are, my dear young friend, did you never observe how 
 little, very little, confidence, there is ? I mean between 
 man and man more particularly between stranger and 
 stranger. In a sad world it is the saddest fact. Confi 
 dence ! I have sometimes almost thought that confi 
 dence is fled ; that confidence is the New Astrea emi 
 grated vanished gone." Then softly sliding nearer, 
 with the softest air, quivering down and looking up, 
 " could you now, my dear young sir, under such circum 
 stances, by way of experiment, simply have confidence 
 in me ?" 
 
 From the outset, the sophomore, as has been seen, 
 had struggled with an ever-increasing embarrassment, 
 arising, perhaps, from such strange remarks coming from 
 a stranger such persistent and prolonged remarks, too. 
 In vain had he more than once sought to break the 
 spell by venturing a deprecatory or leave-taking word. 
 In vain. Somehow, the stranger fascinated him. Little 
 
42 THE CONFIDENCE- MAN. 
 
 wonder, then, that, when the appeal came, he could 
 hardly speak, but, as before intimated, being apparently 
 of a retiring nature, abruptly retired from the spot, leav 
 ing the chagrined stranger to wander away in the oppo 
 site direction. 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 AT THE OUTSET OP WHICH CERTAIN PASSENGERS PROVE DEAF 
 TO THE CALL OF CHARITY. 
 
 " You pish ! Why will the captain suffer these 
 begging fellows on board ?" 
 
 These pettish words were breathed by a well-to-do 
 gentleman in a ruby-colored velvet vest, and with a ruby- 
 colored cheek, a ruby-headed cane in his hand, to a man in 
 a gray coat and white tie, who, shortly after the interview 
 last described, had accosted him for contributions to a 
 Widow and Orphan Asylum recently founded among the 
 Seminoles. Upon a cursory view, this last person might 
 have seemed, like the man with the weed, one of the less 
 unrefined children of misfortune ; but, on a closer observa 
 tion, his countenance revealed little of sorrow, though 
 much of sanctity. 
 
 With added words of touchy disgust, the well-to-do 
 gentleman hurried away. But, though repulsed, and 
 rudely, the man in gray did not reproach, for a time 
 patiently remaining in the chilly loneliness to which he 
 had been left, his countenance, however, not without 
 token of latent though chastened reliance. 
 
44 THE CONFIDENCE-MAN. 
 
 At length an old gentleman, somewhat bulky, drew 
 nigh, and from him also a contribution was sought. 
 
 " Look, you," coming to a dead halt, and scowling 
 upon him. " Look, you," swelling his bulk out before 
 him like a swaying balloon, " look, you, you on others' 
 behalf ask for money ; you, a fellow with a face as long 
 as my arm. Hark ye, now : there is such a thing as 
 gravity, and in condemned felons it may be genuine ; 
 but of long faces there are three sorts ; that of grief's 
 drudge, that of the lantern-jawed man, and that of the 
 impostor. You know best which yours is." 
 
 " Heaven give you more charity, sir." 
 
 " And you less hypocrisy, sir." 
 
 With which words, the hard-hearted old gentleman 
 marched off. 
 
 While the other still stood forlorn, the young clergy 
 man, before introduced, passing that way, catching a 
 chance sight of him, seemed suddenly struck by some 
 recollection ; and, after a moment's pause, hurried up 
 with : " Your pardon, but shortly since I was all over 
 looking for you." 
 
 " For me ?" as marveling that one of so little account 
 should be sought for. 
 
 " Yes, for you ; do you know anything about the 
 negro, apparently a cripple, aboard here? Is he, or is 
 he not, what he seems to be ?" 
 
 " Ah, poor Guinea ! have you, too, been distrusted ? 
 you, upon whom nature has placarded the evidence of 
 your claims?" 
 
 " Then you do really know him, and he is quite 
 
CERTAIN PASSENGERS PROVE DEAF, E T C . 45 
 
 worthy ? It relieves me to hear it much relieves me. 
 Come, let us go find him, and see what can be done." 
 
 " Another instance that confidence may come too 
 late. I am sorry to say that at the last landing I my 
 selfjust happening to catch sight of him on the gang 
 way-plank assisted the cripple ashore. No time to 
 talk, only to help. He may not have told you, but he 
 has a brother in that vicinity." 
 
 " Really, I regret his going without rny seeing him 
 again ; regret it, more, perhaps, than you can readily think. 
 You see, shortly after leaving St. Louis, he was on the 
 forecastle, and there, with many others, I saw him, and 
 put trust in him ; so much so, that, to convince those 
 who did not, I, at his entreaty, went in search of you, 
 you being one of several individuals he mentioned, and 
 whose personal appearance he more or less described, 
 individuals who he said would willingly speak for him. 
 But, after diligent search, not finding you, and catching 
 no glimpse of any of the others he had enumerated, 
 doubts were at last suggested ; but doubts indirectly 
 originating, as I can but think, from prior distrust un 
 feelingly proclaimed by another. Still, certain it is, I 
 began to suspect." 
 
 "Ha, ha, ha!" 
 
 A sort of laugh more like a groan than a laugh ; and 
 yet, somehow, it seemed intended for a laugh. 
 
 Both turned, and the young clergyman started at 
 seeing the wooden-legged man close behind him, mo 
 rosely grave as a criminal judge with a mustard-plaster 
 on his back. In the present case the mustard-plaster 
 
46 THE CONFIDENCE- MAN. 
 
 might have been the memory of certain recent biting 
 rebuffs and mortifications. 
 
 " Wouldn't think it was I who laughed, would you ?" 
 
 "But who was it you laughed at ? or rather, tried to 
 laugh at?" demanded the young clergyman, flushing, 
 "me?" 
 
 " Neither you nor any one within a thousand miles 
 of you. But perhaps you don't believe it." 
 
 " If he were of a suspicious temper, he might not," 
 interposed the man in gray calmly, " it is one of the 
 imbecilities of the suspicious person to fancy that every 
 stranger, however absent-minded, he sees so much as 
 smiling or gesturing to himself in any odd sort of way, 
 is secretly making him his butt. In some moods, the 
 movements of an entire street, as the suspicious man 
 walks down it, will seem an express pantomimic jeer at 
 him. In short, the suspicious man kicks himself with 
 his own foot." 
 
 " Whoever can do that, ten to one he saves other 
 folks' sole-leather," said the wooden-legged man with a 
 crusty attempt at humor. But with augmented grin 
 and squirm, turning directly upon the young clergyman, 
 " you still think it was you I was laughing at, just now. 
 To prove your mistake, I will tell you what I was 
 laughing at; a story I happened to call to mind just 
 then." 
 
 Whereupon, in his porcupine way, and with sarcastic 
 details, unpleasant to repeat, he related a story, which 
 might, perhaps, in a good-natured version, be rendered 
 as follows : 
 
CERTAIN PASSENGERS PROVE DEAF, ETC. 47 
 
 i 
 
 A certain Frenchman of New Orleans, an old man, 
 less slender in purse than limb, happening to attend 
 the theatre one evening, was so charmed with the 
 character of a faithful wife, as there represented to 
 the life, that nothing would do but he must marry upon 
 it. So, marry he did, a beautiful girl from Tennessee, who 
 had first attracted his attention by her liberal mould, 
 and was subsequently recommended to him through her 
 kin, for her equally liberal education and disposition. 
 Though large, the praise proved not too much. For, 
 ere long, rumor more than corroborated it, by whisper 
 ing that the lady was liberal to a fault. But though vari 
 ous circumstances, which by most Benedicts would have 
 been deemed all but conclusive, were duly recited to the 
 old Frenchman by his friends, yet such was his confi 
 dence that not a syllable would he credit, till, chancing 
 one night to return unexpectedly from a journey, upon 
 entering his apartment, a stranger burst from the alcove : 
 " Begar!" cried he, " now I begin to suspec." 
 
 His story told, the wooden-legged man threw back 
 his head, and gave vent to a long, gasping, rasping sort 
 of taunting cry, intolerable as that of a high-pressure 
 engine jeering off steam ; and that done, with apparent 
 satisfaction hobbled away. 
 
 " Who is that scoffer," said the man in gray, not with 
 out warmth. " Who is he, who even were truth on his 
 tongue, his way of speaking it would make truth almost 
 offensive as falsehood. Who is he ?" 
 
 " He who I mentioned to you as having boasted his 
 suspicion of the negro," replied the young clergyman, 
 
48 THE CONFIDENCE- MAN. 
 
 recovering from disturbance, " in short, the person 
 to whom I ascribe the origin of my own distrust ; he 
 maintained that Guinea was some white scoundrel, be- 
 twisted and painted up for a decoy. Yes, these were 
 his very words, I think." 
 
 " Impossible ! he could not be so wrong-headed. 
 Pray, will you call him back, and let me ask him if he 
 were really in earnest?" 
 
 The other complied ; and, at length, after no few surly 
 objections, prevailed upon the one-legged individual to 
 return for a moment. Upon which, the man in gray 
 thus addressed him : " This reverend gentleman tells 
 me, sir, that a certain cripple, a poor negro, is by you 
 considered an ingenious impostor. Now, I am not una 
 ware that there are some persons in this world, who, 
 unable to give better proof of being wise, take a strange 
 delight in showing what they think they have saga 
 ciously read in mankind by uncharitable suspicions 
 of them. I hope you are not one of these. In short, 
 would you tell me now, whether you were not merely 
 joking in the notion you threw out about the negro. 
 Would you be so kind ?" 
 
 " No, I won't be so kind, I'll be so cruel." 
 
 "As you please about that." 
 
 " Well, he's just what I said he was." 
 
 " A white masquerading as a black?" 
 
 " Exactly." 
 
 The man in gray glanced at the young clergyman a 
 moment, then quietly whispered to him, " I thought you 
 represented your friend here as a very distrustful sort of 
 
CERTAIN PASSENGERS PROVE DEAF, ETC. 49 
 
 person, but he appears endued with a singular credulity. 
 Tell me, sir, do you really think that a white could 
 look the negro so ? For one, I should call it pretty good 
 acting." 
 
 " Not much better than any other man acts." 
 
 "How? Does all the world act? Am 7, for instance, 
 an actor? Is my reverend friend here, too, a performer?" 
 
 " Yes, don't you both perform acts ? To do, is to act ; 
 so all doers are actors." 
 
 "You trifle. I ask again, if a white, how could he 
 look the negro so?" 
 
 " Never saw the negro -minstrels, I suppose ?" 
 
 " Yes, but they are apt to overdo the ebony ; exempli 
 fying the old saying, not more just than charitable, that 
 * the devil is never so black as he is painted.' But his 
 limbs, if not a cripple, how could he twist his limbs so ?" 
 
 " How do other hypocritical beggars twist theirs ? 
 Easy enough to see how they are hoisted up." 
 
 "The sham is evident, then?" 
 
 " To the discerning eye," with a horrible screw of his 
 gimlet one. 
 
 "Well, where is Guinea?" said the man in gray; 
 " where is he ? Let us at once find him r and refute beyond 
 cavil this injurious hypothesis." 
 
 "Do so," cried the one-eyed man, "I'm just in the 
 humor now for having him found, and leaving the streaks 
 of these fingers on his paint, as the lion leaves the 
 streaks of his nails on a CaiFre. They wouldn't let me 
 touch him before. Yes, find him, I'll make wool fly, 
 
 and him after." 
 3 
 
50 THE CONFIDENCE- MAN. 
 
 " You forget," here said the young clergyman to the 
 man in gray, " that yourself helped poor Guinea ashore." 
 
 " So I did, so I did ; how unfortunate. But look 
 now," to the other, " I think that without personal proof 
 I can convince you of your mistake. For I put it to 
 you, is- it reasonable to suppose that a man with brains, 
 sufficient to act such a part as you say, would take all 
 that trouble, and run all that hazard, for the mere sake 
 of those few paltry coppers, which, I hear, was all he 
 got for his pains, if pains they were ?" 
 
 " That puts the case irrefutably," said the young 
 clergyman, with a challenging glance towards the one- 
 legged man. 
 
 " You two green-horns ! Money, you think, is the sole 
 motive to pains and hazard, deception and deviltry, in 
 this world. How much money did the devil make by 
 gulling Eve?" 
 
 Whereupon he hobbled off again with a repetition of 
 his intolerable jeer. 
 
 The man in gray stood silently eying his retreat a 
 while, and then, turning to his companion, said: "A 
 bad man, a dangerous man ; a man to be put down in 
 any Christian community. And this was he who was 
 the means of begetting your distrust? Ah, we should 
 shut our ears to distrust, and keep them open only for its 
 opposite." 
 
 " You advance a principle, which, if I had acted upon 
 it this morning, I should have spared myself what I now 
 feel. That but one man, and he with one leg, should 
 have such ill power given him ; his one sour word 
 
CERTAIN PASSENGERS PROVE DEAF, ETC. 51 
 
 leavening into congenial sourness (as, to my knowledge, 
 it did) the dispositions, before sweet enough, of a numer 
 ous company. But, as I hinted, with me at the time 
 his ill words went for nothing; the same as now; only 
 afterwards they had effect ; and I confess, this puzzles 
 me." 
 
 " It should not. With humane minds, the spirit of 
 distrust works something as certain potions do ; it is a 
 spirit which may enter such minds, and yet, for a time, 
 longer or shorter, lie in them quiescent; but only the 
 more deplorable its ultimate activity." 
 
 " An uncomfortable solution ; for, since that baneful 
 man did but just now anew drop on me his bane, how 
 shall I be sure that my present exemption from its effects 
 will be lasting?" 
 
 " You cannot be sure, but you can strive against it." 
 
 "How?" 
 
 " By strangling the least symptom of distrust, of any 
 sort, which hereafter, upon whatever provocation, may 
 arise in you." 
 
 " I will do so." Then added as in soliloquy, " Indeed, 
 indeed, I was to blame in standing passive under such 
 influences as that one-legged man's. My conscience up 
 braids me. The poor negro : You see him occasionally, 
 perhaps ?" 
 
 11 No,- not often ; though in a few days, as it happens, 
 my engagements will call me to the neighborhood of his 
 present retreat ; and, no doubt, honest Gruinea, who is a 
 grateful soul, will come to see me there." 
 
 " Then you have been his benefactor?" 
 
62 THE CONFIDENCE-MAN. 
 
 " His benefactor ? I did not say that. I have known 
 him." 
 
 " Take this mite. Hand it to Guinea when you see 
 him ; say it comes from one who has full belief in his 
 honesty, and is sincerely sorry for having indulged, how 
 ever transiently, in a contrary thought." 
 
 " I accept the trust. And, by-the-way, since you are 
 of this truly charitable nature, you will not turn away 
 an appeal in behalf of the Seminole Widow and Orphan 
 Asylum?" 
 
 " I have not heard of that charity." 
 
 " But recently founded." 
 
 After a pause, the clergyman was irresolutely putting 
 his hand in his pocket, when, caught by something in his 
 companion's expression, he eyed him inquisitively, al 
 most uneasily. 
 
 " Ah, well," smiled the other wanly, "if that subtle 
 bane, we were speaking of but just now, is so soon be 
 ginning to work, in vain my appeal to you. Grood-by." 
 
 " Nay," not untouched, " you do me injustice ; instead 
 of indulging present suspicions, I had rather make 
 amends for previous ones. Here is something for your 
 asylum. Not much ; but every drop helps. Of course 
 you have papers?" 
 
 " Of course," producing a memorandum book and 
 pencil. "Let me take down name and amount. We 
 publish these names. And now let me give you a little 
 history of our asylum, and the providential way in 
 which it was started." 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 A GENTLEMAN WITH GOLD SLEEVE-BUTTONS. 
 
 AT an interesting point of the narration, and at the 
 moment when, with much curiosity, indeed, urgency, the 
 narrator was being particularly questioned upon that 
 point, he was, as it happened, altogether diverted both 
 from it and his story, by just then catching sight of a 
 gentleman who had been standing in sight from the be 
 ginning, but, until now, as it seemed, without being 
 observed by him. 
 
 "Pardon me," said he, rising, "but yonder is one 
 who I know will contribute, and largely. Don't take 
 it amiss if I quit you." 
 
 " Go : duty before all things," was the conscientious 
 reply. 
 
 The stranger was a man of more than winsome aspect. 
 There he stood apart and in repose, and yet, by his mere 
 look, lured the man in gray from his story, much as, by 
 its graciousness of bearing, some full-leaved elm, alone 
 in a meadow, lures the noon sickleman to throw down 
 his sheaves, and come and apply for the alms of its 
 shade. 
 
 But, considering that goodness is no such rare thing 
 
54 THE CONFIDENCE-MAN. 
 
 among men the world familiarly know the noun; a 
 common one in every language it was curious that 
 what so signalized the stranger, and made him look like 
 a kind of foreigner, among the crowd (as to some it 
 make him appear more or less unreal in this portraiture), 
 was but the expression of so prevailent a quality. Such 
 goodness seemed his, allied with such fortune, that, so 
 far as his own personal experience could have gone, 
 scarcely could he have known ill, physical or moral ; 
 and as for knowing or suspecting the latter in any seri 
 ous degree (supposing such degree of it to be), by obser 
 vation or philosophy ; for that, probably, his nature, by 
 its opposition, imperfectly qualified, or from it wholly 
 exempted. For the rest, he might have been five and 
 fifty, perhaps sixty, but tall, rosy, between plump and 
 portly, with a primy, palmy air, and for the time and 
 place, not to hint of his years, dressed with a strangely 
 festive finish and elegance. The inner-side of his coat- 
 skirts was of white satin, which might have looked 
 especially inappropriate, had it not seemed less a bit 
 of mere tailoring than something of an emblem, as it 
 were; an involuntary emblem, let us say, that what 
 seemed so good about him was not all outside; no, the 
 fine covering had a still finer lining. Upon one hand he 
 wore a white kid glove, but the other hand, which was 
 ungloved, looked hardly less white. Now, as the Fidele, 
 like most steamboats, was upon deck a little soot-streak 
 ed here and there, especially about the railings, it was a 
 marvel how, under such circumstances, these hands re 
 tained their spotlessness. But, if you watched them 
 
A GENTLEMAN, ETC. 55 
 
 a while, you noticed that they avoided touching anything ; 
 you noticed, in short, that a certain negro body-servant, 
 whose hands nature had dyed black, perhaps with the 
 same purpose that millers wear white, this negro ser 
 vant's hands did most of his master's handling for him ; 
 having to do with dirt on his account, but not to his 
 prejudices. But if, with the same undefiledness of con 
 sequences to himself, a gentleman could also sin by 
 deputy, how shocking would that be ! But it is not 
 permitted to be ; and even if it were, no judicious moral 
 ist would make proclamation of it. 
 
 This gentleman, therefore, there is reason to affirm, 
 was one who, like the Hebrew governor, knew how to 
 keep his hands clean, and who never in his life happened 
 to be run suddenly against by hurrying house-painter, 
 or sweep ; in a word, one whose very good luck it was 
 to be a very good man. 
 
 Not that he looked as if he were a kind of Wilberforce 
 at all; that superior merit, probably, was not his; no 
 thing in his manner bespoke him righteous, but only 
 good, and though to be good is much below being righte 
 ous, and though there is a difference between the two, 
 yet not, it is to be hoped, so incompatible as that a 
 righteous man can not be a good man ; though, converse 
 ly, in the pulpit it has been with much cogency urged, 
 that a merely good man, that is, one good merely by his 
 nature, is so far from there by being righteous, that 
 nothing short of a total change and conversion can make 
 him so ; which is something which no honest mind, 
 well read in the history of righteousness, will care to 
 
56 THE CONFIDENCE-MAN, 
 
 deny ; nevertheless, since St. Paul himself, agreeing in a 
 sense with the pulpit distinction, though not altogether 
 in the pulpit deduction, and also pretty plainly intima 
 ting which of the two qualities in question enjoys his 
 apostolic preference ; I say, since St. Paul has so mean 
 ingly said, that, "scarcely for a righteous man will 
 one die, yet peradventure for a good man some would 
 even dare to die ;" therefore, when we repeat of this 
 gentleman, that he was only a good man, whatever 
 else by severe censors may be objected to him, it is 
 still to be hoped that his goodness will not at least 
 be considered criminal in him. At all events, no man, 
 not even a righteous man, would think it quite right to 
 commit this gentleman to prison for the crime, extra 
 ordinary as he might deem it ; more especially, as, until 
 everything could be known, there would be some chance 
 that the gentleman might after all be quite as innocent 
 of it as he himself. 
 
 It was pleasant to mark the good man's reception of 
 the salute of the righteous man, that is, the man in 
 gray; his inferior, apparently, not more in the social 
 scale than in stature. Like the benign elm again, the 
 good man seemed to wave the canopy of his goodness 
 over that suitor, not in conceited condescension, but 
 with that even amenity of true majesty, which can be 
 kind to any one without stooping to it. 
 
 To the plea in behalf of the Seminole widows and 
 orphans, the gentleman, after a question or two duly 
 answered, responded by producing an ample pocket- 
 book in the good old capacious style, of fine green 
 
A GENTLEMAN, ETC. 57 
 
 French morocco and workmanship, bound with silk of 
 the same color, not to omit bills crisp with newness, 
 fresh from the bank, no muckworms' grime upon them. 
 Lucre those bills might be, but as yet having been kept 
 unspotted from the world, not of the filthy sort. Pla 
 cing now three of those virgin bills in the applicant's 
 hands, he hoped that the smallness of the contribution 
 would be pardoned ; to tell the truth, and this at last 
 accounted for his toilet, he was bound but a short run 
 down the river, to attend, in a festive grove, the after 
 noon wedding of his niece : so did not carry much mo 
 ney with him. 
 
 The other was about expressing his thanks when the 
 gentleman in his pleasant way checked him : the grati 
 tude was on the other side, To him, he said, charity 
 was in one sense not an effort, but a luxury ; against too 
 great indulgence in which his steward, a humorist, had 
 sometimes admonished him. 
 
 In some general talk which followed, relative to or 
 ganized modes of doing good, the gentleman expressed 
 his regrets that so many benevolent societies as there 
 were, here and there isolated in the land, should not act 
 in concert by coming together, in the way that already 
 in each society the individuals composing it had done, 
 which would result, he thought, in like advantages upon 
 a larger scale. Indeed, such a confederation might, per 
 haps, be attended with as happy results as politically 
 attended that of the states. 
 
 Upon his hitherto moderate enough companion, this 
 
 suggestion had an effect illustrative in a sort of that no- 
 3* 
 
58 THE CONFIDENCE-MAN. 
 
 tion of Socrates, that the soul is a harmony ; for as the 
 sound of a flute, in any particular key, will, it is said, aud 
 ibly affect the corresponding chord of any harp in good 
 tune, within hearing, just so now did some string in him 
 respond, and with animation. 
 
 Which animation, by the way, might seem more or 
 less out of character in the man in gray, considering his 
 unsprightly manner when first introduced, had he not 
 already, in certain after colloquies, given proof, in some 
 degree, of the fact, that, with certain natures, a soberly 
 continent air at times, so far from arguing emptiness of 
 stuff, is good proof it is there, and plenty of it, because 
 unwasted, and may be used the more effectively, too, 
 when opportunity offers. What now follows on the 
 part of the man in gray will still further exemplify, per 
 haps somewhat strikingly, the truth, or what appears 
 to be such, of this remark. 
 
 " Sir," said he eagerly, " I am before you. A project, 
 not dissimilar to yours, was by me thrown out at the 
 World's Fair in London." 
 
 " World's Fair ? You there ? Pray how was that ?" 
 
 " First, let me" 
 
 " Nay, but first tell me what took you to the Fair?" 
 
 " I went to exhibit an invalid's easy-chair I had in 
 vented." 
 
 " Then you have not always been in the charity busi 
 ness ?" 
 
 " Is it not charity to ease human suffering ? I am, 
 and always have been, as I always will be, I trust, in 
 the charity business, as you call it; but charity is not 
 
A GENTLEMAN, ETC. 59 
 
 like a pin, one to make the head, and the other the 
 point ; charity is a work to which a good workman may 
 be competent in all its branches. I invented my Pro 
 tean easy-chair in odd intervals stolen from meals and 
 sleep." 
 
 " You call it the Protean easy-chair; pray describe 
 it." 
 
 " My Protean easy-chair is a chair so all over be- 
 jointed, behinged, and bepadded, everyway so elastic, 
 springy, and docile to the airiest touch, that in some one 
 of its endlessly-changeable accommodations of back, 
 seat, footboard, and arms, the most restless body, the 
 body most racked, nay, I had almost added the most 
 tormented conscience must, somehow and somewhere, 
 find rest. Believing that I owed it to suffering humanity 
 to make known such a chair to the utmost, I scraped 
 together my little means and off to the World's Fair 
 with it." 
 
 " You did right. But your scheme ; how did you 
 come to hit upon that?" 
 
 " I was going to tell you. After seeing my invention 
 duly catalogued and placed, I gave myself up to ponder 
 ing the scene about me. As I dwelt upon that shining 
 pageant of arts, and moving concourse of nations, and re 
 flected that here was the pride of the world glorying in 
 a glass house, a sense of the fragility of w 7 orldly grandr 
 eur profoundly impressed me. And I said to myself, 
 I will see if this occasion of vanity cannot supply a hint 
 toward a better profit than was designed. Let some 
 world-wide good to the world-wide cause be now done. 
 
60 THE CONFIDENCE-MAN. 
 
 In short, inspired by the scene, on the fourth day I is 
 sued at the World's Fair my prospectus of the World's 
 Charity." 
 
 " Quite a thought. But, pray explain it." 
 " The World's Charity is to be a society whose mem 
 bers shall comprise deputies from every charity and mis 
 sion extant ; the one object of the society to be the me- 
 thodization of the world's benevolence ; to which end, 
 the present system of voluntary and promiscuous con 
 tribution to be done away, and the Society to be 
 empowered by the various governments to levy, an 
 nually, one grand benevolence tax upon all mankind ; as 
 in Augustus Caesar's time, the whole world to come up 
 to be taxed; a tax which, for the scheme of it, should 
 be something like the income-tax in England, a tax, also, 
 as before hinted, to be a consolidation-tax of all possi 
 ble benevolence taxes ; as in America here, the state- 
 tax, and the county-tax, and the town-tax, and the 
 poll-tax, are by the assessors rolled into one. This tax, 
 according to my tables, calculated with care, would re 
 sult in the yearly raising of a fund little short of eight 
 hundred millions ; this fund to be annually applied to 
 such objects, and in such modes, as the various charities 
 and missions, in general congress represented, might 
 decree ; whereby, in fourteen years, as I estimate, there 
 would have been devoted to good works the sum of 
 eleven thousand two hundred millions; which would 
 warrant the dissolution of the society, as that fund judi 
 ciously expended, not a pauper or heathen could remain 
 the round world over." 
 
A GENTLEMAN, ETC. Gl 
 
 " Eleven thousand two hundred millions ! And all 
 by passing round a hat, as it were." 
 
 " Yes, I am no Fourier, the projector of an impossible 
 scheme, but a philanthropist and a financier setting forth 
 a philanthropy and a finance which are practicable." 
 
 " Practicable?" 
 
 "Yes. Eleven thousand two hundred millions; it 
 will frighten none but a retail philanthropist. What is 
 it but eight hundred millions for each of fourteen years ? 
 Now eight hundred millions what is that, to average 
 it, but one little dollar a head for the population of the 
 planet ? And who will refuse, what Turk or Dyak 
 even, his own little dollar for sweet charity's sake? 
 Eight hundred millions ! More than that sum is yearly 
 expended by mankind, not only in vanities, but mise 
 ries. Consider that bloody spendthrift, War. And are 
 mankind so stupid, so wicked, that, upon the demonstra 
 tion of these things they will not, amending their ways, 
 devote their superfluities to blessing the world instead 
 of cursing it? Eight hundred millions! They have 
 not to make it, it is theirs already ; they have but to 
 direct it from ill to good. And to this, scarce a self- 
 denial is demanded. Actually, they would not in the 
 mass be one farthing the poorer for it ; as certainly would 
 they be all the better and happier. Don't you see ? 
 But admit, as you must, that mankind is not mad, and 
 my project is practicable. For, what creature but a 
 madman would not rather do good than ill, when it is 
 plain that, good or ill, it must return upon himself?" 
 
 " Your sort of reasoning," said the good gentleman. 
 
62 THE CONFIDENCE-MAN. 
 
 adjusting his gold sleeve-buttons, " seems all reasonable 
 enough, but with mankind it wont do." 
 
 " Then mankind are not reasoning beings, if reason 
 wont do with them." 
 
 " That is not to the purpose. By-the-way, from the 
 manner in which you alluded to the world's census, it 
 would appear that, according to your world-wide scheme, 
 the pauper not less than the nabob is to contribute to 
 the relief of pauperism, and the heathen not less than 
 the Christian to the conversion of heathenism. How is 
 that?" 
 
 " Why, that pardon me is quibbling. Now, no 
 philanthropist likes to be opposed with quibbling." 
 
 " Well, I won't quibble any more. But, after all, if 
 I understand your project, there is little specially new 
 in it, further than the magnifying of means now in 
 operation." 
 
 " Magnifying and energizing. For one thing, mis 
 sions I would thoroughly reform. Missions I would 
 quicken with the Wall street spirit." 
 
 "The Wall street spirit?" 
 
 " Yes ; for if, confessedly, certain spiritual ends are to 
 be gained but through the auxiliary agency of worldly 
 means, then, to the surer gaining of such spiritual ends, 
 the example of worldly policy in worldly projects should 
 not by spiritual projectors be slighted. In brief, the 
 conversion of the heathen, so far, at least, as depending 
 on human effort, would, by the world's charity, be let 
 out on contract. So much by bid for converting India, 
 so much for Borneo, so much for Africa. Competition 
 
A G E X T L E M A N, ETC. 63 
 
 allowed, stimulus would be given. There would be no 
 lethargy of monopoly. We should have no mission- 
 house or tract-house of which slanderers could, with any 
 plausibility, say that it had degenerated in its clerkships 
 into a sort of custom-house. But the main point is the 
 Archimedean money-power that would be brought to 
 bear." 
 
 " You mean the eight hundred million power?" 
 
 " Yes. You see, this doing good to the world by 
 driblets amounts to just nothing. I am for doing good 
 to the world with a will. I am for doing good to the 
 world once for all and having done with it. Do but 
 think, my dear sir, of the eddies and maelstroms of 
 pagans in China. People here have no conception of 
 it. Of a frosty morning in Hong Kong, pauper pagans 
 are found dead in the streets like so many nipped peas 
 in a bin of peas. To be an immortal being in China is 
 no more distinction than to be a snow-flake in a snow- 
 squall. What are a score or two of missionaries to 
 such a people? A pinch of snuff to the kraken. I am 
 for sending ten thousand missionaries in a body and 
 converting the Chinese en masse within six months of 
 the debarkation. The thing is then done, and turn to 
 something else." 
 
 " I fear you are too enthusiastic." 
 
 "A philanthropist is necessarily an enthusiast; for 
 without enthusiasm what was ever achieved but com 
 monplace? But again: consider the poor in London. 
 To that mob of misery, what is a joint here and a loaf 
 there? I am for voting to them twenty thousand bul- 
 
64 THE CONFIDENCE- MAN. 
 
 locks and one 'hundred thousand barrels of flour to begin 
 with. They are then comforted, and no more hunger 
 for one while among the poor of London. And so all 
 round." 
 
 "Sharing the character of your general project, these 
 things, I take it, are rather examples of wonders that 
 were to be wished, than wonders that will happen." 
 
 " And is the age of wonders passed ? Is the world 
 too old ? Is it barren ? Think of Sarah." 
 
 " Then I am Abraham reviling the angel (with a 
 smile). But still, as to your design at large, there 
 seems a certain audacity." 
 
 " But if to the audacity of the design there be brought 
 a commensurate circumspectness of execution, how 
 then ?" 
 
 "Why, do you really believe that your world's 
 charity will ever go into operation ?" 
 
 " I have confidence that it will." 
 
 " But may you not be over-confident ?" 
 
 " For a Christian to talk so !" 
 
 " But tbink of the obstacles !" 
 
 " Obstacles? I have confidence tojemove obstacles, 
 though mountains. Yes, confidence in the world's 
 charity to that degree, that, as no better person offers to 
 supply the place, I have nominated myself provisional 
 treasurer, and will be happy to receive subscriptions, for 
 the present to be devoted to striking off a million more 
 of my prospectuses." 
 
 The talk went on ; the man in gray revealed a spirit 
 of benevolence which, mindful of the millennial promise, 
 
A GENTLEMAN, ETC. 65 
 
 had gone abroad over all the countries of the globe, 
 much as the diligent spirit of the husbandman, stirred 
 by forethought of the coming seed-time, leads him, in 
 March reveries at his fireside, over every field of his 
 farm. The master chord of the man in gray had been 
 touched, and it seemed as if it would never cease 
 vibrating. A not unsilvery tongue, too, was his, with 
 gestures that were a Pentecost of added ones, and per 
 suasiveness before which granite hearts might crumble 
 into gravel. 
 
 Strange, therefore, how his auditor, so singularly 
 good-hearted as he seemed, remained proof to such elo 
 quence ; though not, as it turned out, to such pleadings. 
 For, after listening a while longer with pleasant 
 incredulity, presently, as the boat touched his place of 
 destination, the gentleman, with a look half humor, half 
 pity, put another bank-note into his hands ; charitable 
 to the last, if only to the dreams of enthusiasm. 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 A CHAKITABLE LADY. 
 
 IF a drunkard in a sober fit is the dullest of mortals, 
 an enthusiast in a reason-fit is not the most lively. 
 And this, without prejudice to his greatly improved 
 understanding ; for, if his elation was the height of his 
 madness, his despondency is but the extreme of his san 
 ity. Something thus now, to all appearance, with the 
 man in gray. Society his stimulus, loneliness was his 
 lethargy. Loneliness, like the sea-breeze, blowing off 
 from a thousand leagues of blankness, he did not find, 
 as veteran solitaires do, if anything, too bracing. In 
 short, left to himself, with none to charm forth his 
 latent lymphatic, he insensibly resumes his original air, 
 a quiescent one, blended of sad humility and demure- 
 ness. 
 
 Ere long he goes laggingly into the ladies' saloon, as 
 in spiritless quest of somebody ; but, after some disap 
 pointed glances about him, seats himself upon a sofa 
 with an air of melancholy exhaustion and depression. 
 
 At the sofa's further end sits a plump and pleasant 
 person, whose aspect seems to hint that, if she have any 
 weak point, it must be anything rather than her excel- 
 
A CHARITABLE LADY. 67 
 
 lent heart From her twilight dress, neither dawn nor 
 dark, apparently she is a widow just breaking the chry 
 salis of her mourning. A small gilt testament is in her 
 hand, which she has just been reading. Half-relinquish 
 ed, she holds the book in reverie, her finger inserted at 
 the xiii. of 1st Corinthians, to which chapter possibly 
 her attention might have recently been turned, by wit 
 nessing the scene of the monitory mute and his slate. 
 
 The sacred page no longer meets her eye ; but, as at 
 evening, when for a time the western hills shine on 
 though the sun be set, her thoughtful face retains its 
 tenderness though the teacher is forgotten. 
 
 Meantime, the expression of the stranger is such as 
 ere long to attract her glance. "But no responsive one. 
 Presently, in her somewhat inquisitive survey, her 
 volume drops. It is restored. No encroaching polite 
 ness in the act, but kindness, unadorned. The eyes of 
 the lady sparkle. Evidently, she is not now unprepos 
 sessed. Soon, bending over, in a low, sad tone, full of 
 deference, the stranger breathes, " Madam, pardon my 
 freedom, but there is something in that face which 
 strangely draws me. May I ask, are you a sister of the 
 Church ?" 
 
 " Why really you " 
 
 In concern for her embarrassment, he hastens to re 
 lieve it, but, without seeming so to do. " It is very 
 solitary for a brother here," eying the showy ladies 
 brocaded in the background, " I find none to mingle 
 souls with. It may be wrong I know it is but I can 
 not force myself to be easy with the people of the world. 
 
68 THE CONFIDENCE-MAN. 
 
 I prefer the company, however silent, of a brother or 
 sister in good standing. By the way, madam, may I ask 
 if you have confidence?" 
 
 " Really, sir why, sir really I " 
 
 " Could you put confidence in me for instance ?" 
 
 " Really, sir as much I mean, as one may wisely 
 put in a a stranger, an entire stranger, I had almost 
 said," rejoined the lady, hardly yet at ease in her affa 
 bility, drawing aside a little in body, while at the same 
 time her heart might have been drawn as far the other 
 way. A natural struggle between charity and pru 
 dence. 
 
 "Entire stranger!" with a sigh. "Ah, who would 
 be a stranger ? In vain, I wander ; no one will have 
 confidence in me." 
 
 " You interest me," said the good lady, in mild sur 
 prise. " Can I any way befriend you ?" 
 
 "No one can befriend me, who has not confidence." 
 
 " But I I have at least to that degree I mean 
 that" 
 
 " Nay, nay, you have none none at all. Pardon, I 
 see it. No confidence. Fool, fond fool that I am to 
 seek it !" 
 
 " You are unjust, sir," rejoins the good lady with 
 heightened interest; "but it may be that something 
 untoward in your experiences has unduly biased you. 
 Not that I would cast reflections. Believe me, I yes, 
 yes I may say that that " 
 
 " That you have confidence ? Prove it. Let me have 
 twenty dollars." 
 
A CHARITABLE LADY. 69 
 
 " Twenty dollars !" 
 
 " There, I told you, madam, you had no confidence." 
 
 The lady was, in an extraordinary way, touched. She 
 sat in a sort of restless torment, knowing not which way 
 to turn. She began twenty different sentences, and left 
 off at the first syllable of each. At last, in desperation, 
 she hurried out, " Tell me, sir, for what you want the 
 twenty dollars ?" 
 
 " And did I not " then glancing at her half-mourn 
 ing, " for the widow and the fatherless. I am traveling 
 agent of the Widow and Orphan Asylum, recently 
 founded among the Seminoles." 
 
 " And why did you not tell me your object before?" 
 As not a little relieved. " Poor souls Indians, too 
 those cruelly-used Indians. Here, here ; how could I 
 hesitate. I am so sorry it is no more." 
 
 " Grieve not for that, madam," rising and folding up 
 the bank-notes. " This is an inconsiderable sum, I ad 
 mit, but," taking out his pencil and book, " though I 
 here but register the amount, there is another register, 
 where is set down the motive. Good-bye ; you have 
 confidence. Yea, you can say to me as the apostle said 
 to the Corinthians, * I rejoice that I have confidence in 
 you in all things.' " 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 TWO BUSINESS MEN TRANSACT A LITTLE BUSINESS. 
 
 "Pray, sir, have you seen a gentleman with a weed 
 hereabouts, rather a saddish gentleman ? Strange where 
 he can have gone to. I was talking with him not 
 twenty minutes since." 
 
 By a brisk, ruddy-cheeked man in a tasseled tra 
 veling-cap, carrying under his arm a ledger-like volume, 
 the above words were addressed to the collegian before 
 introduced, suddenly accosted by the rail to which not 
 long after his retreat, as in a previous chapter recount 
 ed, he had returned, and there remained. 
 
 " Have you seen him, sir?" 
 
 Rallied from his apparent diffidence by the genial 
 jauntiness of the stranger, the youth answered with un 
 wonted promptitude : " Yes, a person with a weed was 
 here not very long ago." 
 
 "Saddish?" 
 
 " Yes, and a little cracked, too, I should say." 
 
 " Ifc was he. Misfortune, I fear, has disturbed his 
 brain. Now quick, which way did he go ?" 
 
 " Why just in the direction from which you came, 
 the gangway yonder." 
 
 " Did he ? Then the man in the gray coat, whom I 
 
TWO BUSINESS MEN, ETC. 71 
 
 just met, said right: he must have gone ashore. How 
 unlucky!" 
 
 He stood vexedly twitching at his cap-tassel, which 
 fell over by his whisker, and continued : " Well, I am very 
 sorry. In fact, I had something for him here." Then 
 drawing nearer, "you see, he applied to me for relief, 
 no, I do him injustice, not that, but he began to intimate, 
 you understand. Well, being very busy just then, I 
 declined ; quite rudely, too, in a cold, morose, unfeeling 
 way, I fear. At all events, not three minutes afterwards 
 I felt self-reproach, with a kind of prompting, very per 
 emptory, to deliver over into that unfortunate man's 
 hands a ten-dollar bill. You smile. Yes, it may be 
 superstition, but I can't help it; I have my weak side, 
 thank God. Then again," he rapidly went on, " we 
 have been so very prosperous lately in our affairs by 
 we, I mean the Black Eapids Coal Company that, really, 
 out of my abundance, associative and individual, it is 
 but fair that a charitable investment or two should be 
 made, don't you think so?" 
 
 " Sir," said the collegian without the least embarrass 
 ment, " do I understand that you are officially connected 
 with the Black Rapids Coal Company ?" 
 
 " Yes, I happen to be president and transfer-agent." 
 
 "You are?" 
 
 "Yes, but what is it to you? You don't want to 
 invest?" 
 
 " Why, do you sell the stock ?" 
 
 "Some might be bought, perhaps; but why do you 
 ask? you don't want to invest?" 
 
72 THE CONFIDENCE- MAN. 
 
 "But supposing I did," with cool self-collectedness, 
 "could you do up the thing for me, and here?" 
 
 " Bless ray soul," gazing at him in amaze, " really, 
 you are quite a business man. Positively, I feel afraid 
 of you." 
 
 " Oh, no need of that. You could sell me some of 
 that stock, then?" 
 
 "I don't know, I don't know. To be sure, there are 
 a few shares under peculiar circumstances bought in by 
 the Company ; but it would hardly be the thing to 
 convert this boat into the Company's office. I think 
 you had better defer investing. So," with an indifferent 
 air, "you have seen the uufortunate man I spoke of?" 
 
 "Let the unfortunate man go his ways. What is 
 that large book you have with you ?" 
 
 " My transfer-book. I am subpoenaed with it to court." 
 
 "Black Kapids Coal Company," obliquely reading 
 the gilt inscription on the back; " I have heard much of 
 it. Pray do you happen to have with you any state 
 ment of the condition of your company." 
 
 " A statement has lately been printed." 
 
 " Pardon me, but I am naturally inquisitive. Have 
 you a copy with you?" 
 
 " I tell you again, I do not think that it would be 
 suitable to convert this boat into the Company's office. 
 That unfortunate man, did you relieve him at all?" 
 
 " Let the unfortunate man relieve himself. Hand 
 me the statement." 
 
 " Well, you are such a business-man, I can hardly 
 deny you. Here," handing a small, printed pamphlet. 
 
TWO BUSINESS MEN, ETC. 73 
 
 The youth turned it over sagely. 
 
 "I hate a suspicious man," said the other, observing 
 him ; " but I must say I like to see a cautious one." 
 
 " I can gratify you there," languidly returning the 
 pamphlet ; "for, as I said before, I am naturally inqui 
 sitive ; I am also circumspect. No appearances can de 
 ceive me. Your statement," he added " tells a very fine 
 story ; but pray, was not your stock a little heavy 
 awhile ago? downward tendency? Sort of low spirits 
 among holders on the subject of that stock?" 
 
 " Yes, there was a depression. But how came it ? 
 who devised it? The 'bears,' sir. The depression of 
 our stock was solely owing to the growling, the hypo 
 critical growling, of the bears." 
 
 " How, hypocritical ?" 
 
 " Why, the most monstrous of all hypocrites are these 
 bears : hypocrites by inversion ; hypocrites in the simu 
 lation of things dark instead of bright ; souls that thrive, 
 less upon depression, than the fiction of depression; 
 professors of the wicked art of manufacturing depres 
 sions ; spurious Jeremiahs ; sham Heraclituses, who, the 
 lugubrious day done, return, like sham Lazaruses among 
 the beggars, to make merry over the gains got by their 
 pretended sore heads scoundrelly bears !" 
 
 " You are warm against these bears ?" 
 
 "-If I am, it is less from the remembrance of their 
 stratagems as to our stock, than from the persuasion 
 that these same destroyers of confidence, and gloomy 
 philosophers of the stock-market, though false in them 
 selves, are yet true types of most destroyers of con- 
 4 
 
74 THE CONFIDENCE- MAN. 
 
 fidence and gloomy philosophers, the world over. Fel 
 lows who, whether in stocks,- politics, bread-stuffs, 
 morals, metaphysics, religion be it what it may 
 trump up their black panics in the naturally-quiet 
 brightness, solely with a view to some sort of covert 
 advantage. That corpse of calamity which the gloomy 
 philosopher parades, is but his Good-Enough-Mor 
 gan." 
 
 "I rather like that," knowingly drawled the youth. 
 " I fancy these gloomy souls as little as the next one. 
 Sitting on my sofa after a champagne dinner, smoking 
 my plantation cigar, if a gloomy fellow come to me 
 what a bore !" 
 
 "You tell him it's all stuff, don't you?" 
 
 " I tell him it ain't natural. I say to him, you are 
 happy enough, and you know it ; and everybody else is 
 as happy as you, and you know that, too ; and we shall 
 all be happy after we are no more, and you know that, 
 too ; but no, still you must have your sulk." 
 
 "And do you know whence this sort of fellow gets 
 his sulk ? not from life ; for he's often too much of a 
 recluse, or else too young to have seen anything of it. 
 No, he gets it from some of those old plays he sees on 
 the stage, or some of those old books he finds up in 
 garrets. Ten to one, he has lugged home from auction 
 a musty old Seneca, and sets about stuffing himself with 
 that stale old hay ; and, thereupon, thinks it looks wise 
 and antique to be a croaker, thinks it's taking a stand- 
 way above his kind.' 1 
 
 " Just so," assented the youth. "I've lived some, and 
 
TWO BUSINESS MEN, ETC. 75 
 
 seen a good many such ravens at second hand. By the 
 way, strange how that man with the weed, you were in 
 quiring for, seemed to take me for some soft sentiment 
 alist, only because I kept quiet, and thought, because 
 I had a copy of Tacitus with me, that I was reading him 
 for his gloom, instead of his gossip. But I let him talk. 
 And, indeed, by my manner humored him." 
 
 " You shouldn't have done that, now. Unfortunate 
 man, you must have made quite a fool of him." 
 
 " His own fault if I did. But I like prosperous 
 fellows, comfortable fellows ; fellows that talk comfort 
 ably and prosperously, like you. Such fellows are 
 generally honest. And, I say now, I happen to have a 
 superfluity in my pocket, and I'll just " 
 
 " Act the part of a brother to that unfortunate 
 man?" 
 
 "Let the unfortunate man be his own brother. 
 What are you dragging him in for all the time? One 
 would think you didn't care to register any transfers, 
 or dispose of any stock mind running on something 
 else. I say I will invest." 
 
 " Stay, stay, here come some uproarious fellows this 
 way, this way." 
 
 And with off-handed politeness the man with the 
 book escorted his companion into a private little haven 
 removed from the brawling swells without. 
 
 Business transacted, the two came forth, and walked 
 the deck. 
 
 "Now tell me, sir," said he with the book, "how 
 comes it that a young gentleman like you, a sedate stu- 
 
76 THE CONFIDENCE- MAN. 
 
 dent at the first appearance, should dabble in stocks and 
 that sort of thing?" 
 
 11 There are certain sophomorean errors in the world," 
 drawled the sophomore, deliberately adjusting his shirt- 
 collar, " not the least of which is the popular notion 
 touching the nature of the modern scholar, and the na 
 ture of the modern scholastic sedateness." 
 
 "So it seems, so it seems. Really, this is quite a 
 new leaf in my experience." 
 
 "Experience, sir," originally observed the sophomore, 
 " is the only teacher." 
 
 " Hence am I your pupil ; for it's only when experi 
 ence speaks, that I can endure to listen to specula 
 tion." 
 
 " My speculations, sir," dryly drawing himself up, 
 " have been chiefly governed by the maxim of Lord 
 Bacon ; I speculate in those philosophies which come 
 home to my business and bosom pray, do you know of 
 any other good stocks?" 
 
 " You wouldn't like to be concerned in the New Je 
 rusalem, would you?" 
 
 " New Jerusalem ?" 
 
 " Yes, the new and thriving city, so called, in northern 
 Minnescrta. It was originally founded by certain fugi 
 tive Mormons. Hence the name. It stands on the 
 Mississippi. Here, here is the map," producing a roll. 
 " There there, you see are the public buildings here 
 the landing there the park -yonder the botanic gar 
 dens and this, this little dot here, is a perpetual fount 
 ain, you understand. You observe there are twenty 
 
TWO BUSINESS MEN, ETC. 77 
 
 asterisks. Those are for the lyceums. They have lig- 
 num-vitse rostrums." 
 
 "And are all these buildings now standing?" 
 
 " All standing bona fide." 
 
 " These marginal squares here, are they the water- 
 lots ?" 
 
 " Water-lots in the city of New Jerusalem ? All terra 
 firma you don't seem to care about investing, though?" 
 
 " Hardly think I should read my title clear, as the 
 law students say," yawned the collegian. 
 
 " Prudent you are prudent. Don't know that you are 
 wholly out, either. At any rate, I would rather have 
 one of your shares of coal stock than two of this other. 
 Still, considering that the first settlement was by two 
 fugitives, who had swum over naked from the opposite 
 shore it's a surprising place. It is, bona fide. But 
 dear me, I must go. Oh, if by possibility you should 
 come across that unfortunate man " 
 
 " In that case," with drawling impatience, "I 
 will send for the steward, and have him and his mis 
 fortunes consigned overboard." 
 
 " Ha ha ! now were some gloomy philosopher here, 
 some theological bear, forever taking occasion to growl 
 down the stock of human nature (with ulterior views, 
 d'ye see, to a fat benefice in the the gift of the worship 
 ers of Ariamius), he would pronounce that the sign of a 
 hardening heart and a softening brain. Yes, that would 
 be his sinister construction. But it's nothing more than 
 the oddity of a genial humor genial but dry. Confess 
 it. Good-bye." 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 IN THE CABIN. 
 
 STOOLS, settees, sofas, divans, ottomans ; occupying 
 them are clusters of men, old and young, wise and sim 
 ple ; in their hands are cards spotted with diamonds, 
 spades, clubs, hearts; the favorite games are whist, 
 cribbage, and brag. Lounging in arm-chairs or saun 
 tering among the marble-topped tables, amused with 
 the scene, are the comparatively few, who, instead of 
 having hands in the games, for the most part keep their 
 hands in their pockets. These may be the philo- 
 sophes. But here and there, with a curious expression, 
 one is reading a small sort of handbill of anonymous 
 poetry, rather wordily entitled : 
 
 "ODE 
 ON THE INTIMATIONS 
 
 OF 
 
 DISTRUST IN MAN, 
 
 UNWILLINGLY INFERRED FROM REPEATED REPULSES, 
 
 IN DISINTERESTED ENDEAVORS 
 
 TO PROCURE HIS 
 
 CONFIDENCE." 
 
 On the floor are many copies, looking as if fluttered 
 down from a balloon. The way they came there was 
 this : A somewhat elderly person, in the quaker dress, 
 
IN THE CABIN. 79 
 
 had quietly passed through the cabin, and, much in the 
 manner of those railway book-peddlers who precede 
 their proffers of sale by a distribution of puffs, direct or 
 indirect, of the volumes to follow, had, without speak 
 ing, handed about the odes, which, for the most part, 
 after a cursory glance, had been disrespectfully tossed 
 aside, as no doubt, the moonstruck production of some 
 wandering rhapsodist. 
 
 In due time, book under arm, in trips the ruddy man 
 with the traveling-cap, who, lightly moving to and fro, 
 looks animatedly about him, with a yearning sort of 
 gratulatory affinity and longing, expressive of the very 
 soul of sociality ; as much as to say, " Oh, boys, would 
 that I were personally acquainted with each mother's 
 son of you, since what a sweet world, to make sweet 
 acquaintance in, is ours, my brothers ; yea, and what 
 dear, happy dogs are w y e all !" 
 
 And just as if he had really warbled it forth, he makes 
 fraternally up to one lounging stranger or another, ex 
 changing with him some pleasant remark. 
 
 " Pray, what have you there?" he asked of one newly 
 accosted, a little, dried-up man, who looked as if he 
 never dined. 
 
 "A little ode, rather queer, too," was the reply, " of 
 the same sort you see strewn on the floor here." 
 
 " I did not observe them. Let me see ;" picking 
 one up and looking it over. " Well now, this is pretty ; 
 plaintive, especially the opening : 
 
 ' Alas for man, lie hath small sense 
 Of genial trust and confidence.' 
 
80 THE CONFIDENCE -MAN. 
 
 If it be so, alas for him, indeed. Runs off very 
 smoothly, sir. Beautiful pathos. But do you think the 
 sentiment just ?" 
 
 "As to that," said ,the little dried-up man, " I think 
 it a kind of queer thing altogether, and yet I am al 
 most ashamed to add, it really has set me to thinking ; 
 yes and to feeling. Just now,- somehow, I feel as it 
 were trustful and genial. I don't know that ever I felt 
 so much so before. I am naturally numb in my sensi 
 bilities ; but this ode, in its way, works on my numb 
 ness not unlike a sermon, which, by lamenting over my 
 lying dead in trespasses and sins, thereby stirs me up to 
 be all alive in well-doing." 
 
 " Glad to hear it, and hope you will do well, as 
 the doctors say. But who snowed the odes about 
 here?" 
 
 " I cannot say ; I have not been here long." 
 
 " Wasn't an angel, was it ? Come, you say you feel 
 genial, let us do as the rest, and have cards." 
 
 " Thank you, I never play cards." 
 
 "A bottle of wine?" 
 
 " Thank you, I never drink wine." 
 
 " Cigars ?" 
 
 " Thank you, I never smoke cigars." 
 
 " Tell stories ?" 
 
 " To speak truly, I hardly think I know one worth 
 telling." 
 
 " Seems to me, then, this geniality you say you feel 
 waked in you, is as water-power in a land without 
 mills. Come, you had better take a genial hand at the 
 
INTHECABIN. 81 
 
 cards. To begin, we will play for as small a sum as 
 you please ; just enough to make it interesting." 
 
 "Indeed, you must excuse me. Somehow I distrust 
 cards." 
 
 " What, distrust cards? Genial cards? Then for 
 once I join with our sad Philomel here : 
 
 * Alas for man, he hath small sense 
 Of genial trust and confidence.' 
 
 Good-bye !" 
 
 Sauntering and chatting here and there, again, he 
 with the book at length seems fatigued, looks round 
 for a seat, and spying a partly-vacant settee drawn up 
 against the side, drops down there ; soon, like his 
 chance neighbor, who happens to be the good merchant, 
 becoming not a little interested in the scene more im 
 mediately before him ; a party at whist ; two cream- 
 faced, giddy, unpolished youths, the one in a red cravat, 
 the other in a green, opposed to two bland, grave, 
 handsome, self-possessed men of middle age, decorously 
 dressed in a sort of professional black, and apparently 
 doctors of some eminence in the civil law. 
 
 By-and-by, after a preliminary scanning of the new 
 comer next him the good merchant, sideways leaning 
 over, whispers behind a- crumpled copy of the Ode 
 which he holds : " Sir, I don't like the looks of those 
 two, do you?" 
 
 " Hardly," was the whispered reply; " those colored 
 cravats are not in the best taste, at least not to mine ; 
 but my taste is no rule for all." 
 
 " You mistake ; I mean the other two, and I don't 
 
82 THE CONFIDENCE- MAN. 
 
 refer to dress, but countenance. I confess I am not 
 familiar with such gentry any further than reading about 
 them in the papers but those two are are sharpers, 
 aint they?" 
 
 " Far be from us the captious and fault-finding spirit, 
 my dear sir." 
 
 " Indeed, sir, I would not find fault ; I am little given 
 that way ; but certainly, to say the least, these two 
 youths can hardly be adepts, while the opposed couple 
 may be even more." 
 
 " You would not hint that the colored cravats would 
 be so bungling as to lose, and the dark cravats so dex 
 trous as to cheat? Sour imaginations, my dear sir. 
 Dismiss them. To little purpose have you read the 
 Ode you have there. Years and experience, I trust, 
 have not sophisticated you. A fresh and liberal con 
 struction would teach us to regard those four players 
 indeed, this whole cabin-full of players as playing at 
 games in which every player plays fair, and not a player 
 but shall win." 
 
 "Now, you hardly mean that; because games in 
 which all may win, such games remain as yet in this 
 world uninvented, I think." 
 
 " Come, come," luxuriously laying himself back, and 
 casting a free glance upon the players, "fares all paid; 
 digestion sound ; care, toil, penury, grief, unknown ; 
 lounging on this sofa, with waistband relaxed, why not 
 be cheerfully resigned to one's fate, nor peevishly pick 
 holes in the blessed fate of the world ?" 
 
 Upon this, the good merchant, after staring long and 
 
IN THE CABIN. 
 
 hard, and then rubbing his forehead, fell into medita 
 tion, at first uneasy, but at last composed, and in the 
 end, once more addressed his companion : " Well, I see 
 it's good to out with one's private thoughts now and 
 then. Somehow, I don't know why, a certain misty 
 suspiciousness seems inseparable from most of one's pri 
 vate notions about some men and some things ; but 
 once out with these misty notions, and their mere con 
 tact with other men's soon dissipates, or, at least, modi 
 fies them." 
 
 "You think I have done you good, then? maybe, 
 I have. But don't thank me, don't thank me. If by 
 words, casually delivered in the social hour, I do any 
 good to right or left, it is but involuntary influence 
 locust-tree sweetening the herbage under it ; no merit 
 at all ; mere wholesome accident, of a wholesome na 
 ture. Don't you see?" 
 
 Another stare from the good merchant, and both were 
 silent again. 
 
 Finding his book, hitherto resting on his lap* rather 
 irksome there, the owner now places it edgewise on the 
 settee, between himself and neighbor ; in so doing, 
 chancing to expose the lettering on the back u Blade 
 Rapias Coal Company" which the good merchant, 
 scrupulously honorable, had much ado to avoid reading, 
 so directly would it have fallen under his eye, had 
 he not conscientiously averted it. On a sudden, as if 
 just reminded of something, the stranger starts up, and 
 moves away, in his haste leaving his book ; which 
 the merchant observing, without delay takes it up, and, 
 
84 THE CONFIDENCE-MAIM. 
 
 hurrying after, civilly returns it ; in which act he could 
 not avoid catching sight by an involuntary glance of 
 part of the lettering. 
 
 "Thank you, thank you, my good sir," said the other, 
 receiving the volume, and was resuming his retreat, 
 when the merchant spoke : "Excuse me, but are you 
 not in some way connected with the the Coal Company 
 'I have heard of?" 
 
 " There is more than one Coal Company that may be 
 heard of, my good sir," smiled the other, pausing with 
 an expression of painful impatience, disinterestedly 
 mastered. 
 
 "But you are connected with one in particular. 
 The * Black Rapids,' are you not?" 
 
 " How did you find that out?" 
 
 " Well, sir, I have heard rather tempting information 
 of your Company." 
 
 " Who is your informant, pray," somewhat coldly. 
 
 " A a person by the name of Ringman." 
 
 "Don't know him. But, doubtless, there are plenty 
 who know our Company, whom our Company does not 
 know ; in the same way that one may know an indi 
 vidual, yet be unknown to him. Known this Ringman 
 long ? Old friend, I suppose. But pardon, I must 
 leave you." 
 
 "Stay, sir, that that stock." 
 
 "Stock?" 
 
 "Yes, it's a little irregular, perhaps, but " 
 
 "Dear me, you don't think of doing any business 
 with me, do you? In my official capacity I have not 
 
IN THE CABIN. 85 
 
 been authenticated to you. This transfer-book, now," 
 holding it up so as to bring the lettering in sight, " how 
 do you know that it may not be a bogus one ? And I, 
 being personally a stranger to you, how can you %ave 
 confidence in me ?" 
 
 " Because," knowingly smiled the good merchant, 
 " if you were other than I have confidence that you are, 
 hardly would you challenge distrust that way." 
 " But you have not examined my book." 
 " What need to, if already I believe that it is what it 
 is lettered to be ?" 
 
 " But you had better. It might suggest doubts." 
 " Doubts, may be, it might suggest, but not know 
 ledge; for how, by examining the book, should I think I 
 knew any more than I now think I do ; since, if it 
 be the true book, I think it so already ; and since if it 
 be otherwise, then I have never seen the true one, and 
 don't know what that ought to look like." 
 
 " Your logic I will not criticize, but your confidence I 
 admire, and earnestly, tod, jocose as was the method 
 I took to draw it out. Enough, we will go to yonder 
 table, and if there be any business which, either in my 
 private or official capacity, I can help you do, pray 
 command me." 
 
CHAPTER XI. 
 
 ONLY A PAGE OR SO. 
 
 THE transaction concluded, the two still remained 
 seated, falling into familiar conversation, by degrees 
 verging into that confidential sort of sympathetic 
 silence, the last refinement and luxury of unaffected 
 good feeling. A kind of social superstition, to suppose 
 that to be truly friendly one must be saying friendly 
 words all the time, any more than be doing friendly 
 deeds continually. True friendliness, like true religion, 
 being in a sort independent of works. 
 
 At length, the good merchant, whose eyes were pen 
 sively resting upon the gay tables in the distance, broke 
 the spell by saying that, from the spectacle before them, 
 one would little divine what other quarters of the boat 
 might reveal. He cited the case, accidentally encoun 
 tered but an hour or two previous, of a shrunken old 
 miser, clad in shrunken old moleskin, stretched out, an 
 invalid, on a bare plank in the emigrants' quarters, 
 eagerly clinging to life and lucre, though the one was 
 gasping for outlet, and about the other he was in tor 
 ment lest death, or some other unprincipled cut-purse, 
 should be the means of his losing it; by like feeble 
 
OXLY A PAGE OR SO. 87 
 
 tenure holding lungs and pouch, and yet knowing and 
 desiring nothing beyond them ; for his mind, never 
 raised above mould, was now all but mouldered away. 
 To such a degree, indeed, that he had no trust in any 
 thing, not even in his parchment bonds, which, the bet 
 ter to preserve from the tooth of time, he had packed 
 down and sealed up, like brandy peaches, in a tin case 
 of spirits. 
 
 The worthy man proceeded at some length with 
 these dispiriting particulars. Nor would his cheery 
 companion wholly deny that there might be a point of 
 view from which such a case of extreme want of confi 
 dence might, to the humane mind, present features not 
 altogether welcome as wine and olives after dinner. 
 Still, he was not without compensatory considerations, 
 and, upon the whole, took his companion to task for 
 evincing what, in a good-natured, round-about way, he 
 hinted to be a somewhat jaundiced sentimentality. 
 Nature, he added, in Shakespeare's words, had meal and 
 bran ; and, rightly regarded, the bran in its way was 
 not to be condemned. 
 
 The other was not disposed to question the justice of 
 Shakespeare's thought, but would hardly admit the 
 propriety of the application in this instance, much less 
 of the comment. So, after some further temperate dis 
 cussion of the pitiable miser, finding that they could 
 not entirely harmonize, the merchant cited another case, 
 that of the negro cripple. But his companion sug 
 gested whether the alleged hardships of that alleged 
 unfortunate might not exist more in the pity of the ob- 
 
88 THE CONFIDENCE-MAN. 
 
 server than the experience of the observed. He knew 
 nothing about the cripple, nor had seen him, but ven 
 tured to surmise that, could one but get at the real state 
 of his heart, he would be found about as happy as most 
 men, if not, in fact, full as happy as the speaker him 
 self. He added that negroes were by nature a singularly 
 cheerful race ; no one ever heard of a native-born African 
 Zimmermann or Torquemada ; that even from religion 
 they dismissed all gloom ; in their hilarious rituals they 
 danced, so to speak, and, as it were, cut pigeon-wings. 
 It was improbable, therefore, that a negro, however re 
 duced to his stumps by fortune, could be ever thrown 
 off the legs of a laughing philosophy. 
 
 Foiled again, the good merchant would not desist, but 
 ventured still a third case, that of the man with the 
 weed, whose story, as narrated by himself, and confirm 
 ed and filled out by the testimony of a certain man in a 
 gray coat, whom the merchant had afterwards met, he 
 now proceeded to give ; and that, without holding 
 back those particulars disclosed by the second inform 
 ant, but which delicacy had prevented the unfortunate 
 man himself from touching upon. 
 
 But as the good merchant could, perhaps, do better 
 justice to the man than the story, we shall venture to 
 tell it in other words than his, though not to any other 
 effect. 
 
CHAPTER XII. 
 
 STORY OF THE UNFORTUNATE MAN, FROM WHICH MAY BE GATHERED 
 WHETHER OR NO HE HAS BEEN JUSTLY SO ENTITLED. 
 
 IT appeared that the unfortunate man had had for a 
 wife one of those natures, anomalously vicious, which 
 would almost tempt a metaphysical lover of our species 
 to doubt whether the human form be, in all cases, con 
 clusive evidence of humanity, whether, sometimes, it may 
 not be a kind of unpledged and indifferent tabernacle, 
 and whether, once for all to crush the saying of Thrasea, 
 (an unaccountable one, considering that he himself was 
 so good a man) that " he who hates vice, hates humanity," 
 it should not, in self-defense, be held for a reasonable 
 maxim, that none but the good are human. 
 
 Goneril was young, in person lithe and straight, too 
 straight, indeed, for a woman, a complexion naturally 
 rosy, and which would have been charmingly so, but for 
 a certain hardness and bakedness, like that of the glazed 
 colors on stone-ware. Her hair was of a deep, rich 
 chestnut, but worn in close, short curls all round her 
 head. Her Indian figure was not without its impairing 
 effect on her bust, while her mouth would have been 
 pretty but for a trace of moustache. Upon the whole, 
 
90 THE CONFIDENCE-MAN. 
 
 aided by the resources of the toilet, her appearance at 
 distance was such, that some might have thought her, if 
 anything, rather beautiful, though of a style of beauty 
 rather peculiar and cactus-like. 
 
 It was happy for Groneril that her more striking pecu 
 liarities were less of the person than of temper and taste. 
 One hardly knows how to reveal, that, while having a 
 natural antipathy to such things as the breast of chicken,' 
 or custard, or peach, or grape, Goneril could yet in 
 private make a satisfactory lunch on hard crackers and 
 brawn of ham. She liked lemons, and the only kind of 
 candy she loved were little dried sticks of blue clay, 
 secretly carried in her pocket. Withal she had hard, 
 steady health like a squaw's, with as firm a spirit and 
 resolution. Some other points about her were likewise 
 such as pertain to the women of savage life. Lithe 
 though she was, she loved supineness, but upon occasion 
 could endure like a stoic. She was taciturn, too. From 
 early morning till about three o'clock in the afternoon 
 she would seldom speak it taking that time to thaw 
 her, by all accounts, into but talking terms with hu 
 manity. During the interval she did little but look, and 
 keep looking out of her large, metallic eyes, which her 
 enemies called cold as a cuttle-fish's, but which by her 
 were esteemed gazelle-like; for Goneril was not without 
 vanity. Those who thought they best knew her, often 
 wondered what happiness such a being could take in 
 life, not considering the happiness which is to be had by 
 some natures in the very easy way of simply causing 
 pain to those around them. Those who suffered from 
 
STORY OF THE UNFORTUNATE MAN. 91 
 
 Goneril's strange nature, might, with one of those 
 hyberboles to which the resentful incline, have pro 
 nounced her some kind of toad ; but her worst slander 
 ers could never, with any show of justice, have accused 
 her of being a toady. In a large sense she possessed 
 the virtue of independence of mind. Goneril held it 
 flattery to hint praise even of the absent, and even if 
 merited ; but honesty, to fling people's imputed faults 
 into their faces. This was thought malice, but it cer 
 tainly was not passion. Passion is human. Like an 
 icicle-dagger, Goneril at once stabbed and froze ; so at 
 least they said ; and when she saw frankness and inno 
 cence tyrannized into sad nervousness under her spell, 
 according to the same authority, inly she chewed her 
 blue clay, and you could mark that she chuckled. These 
 peculiarities were strange and unpleasing ; but another 
 was alleged, one really incomprehensible. In company 
 she had a strange way of touching, as by accident, the 
 arm or hand of comely young men, and seemed to reap 
 a secret delight from it, but whether from the humane 
 satisfaction of having given the evil-touch, as it is called, 
 or whether it was something else in her, not equally 
 wonderful, but quite as deplorable, remained an enigma. 
 Needless to say what distress was the unfortunate man's, 
 when, engaged in conversation with company, he would 
 suddenly perceive his Goneril bestowing her mysterious 
 touches, especially in such cases where the strangeness 
 of the thing seemed to strike upon the touched person, 
 notwithstanding good-breeding forbade his proposing 
 the mystery, on the spot, as a subject of discussion for 
 
92 THE CONFIDENCE-MAN. 
 
 the company. In these cases, too, the unfortunate man 
 could never endure so much as to look upon the touched 
 young gentleman afterwards, fearful of the mortification 
 of meeting in his countenance some kind of more or less 
 quizzingly-knowing expression. He would shudderingly 
 shun the young gentleman. So that here, to the hus 
 band, Goneril's touch had the dread operation of the 
 heathen taboo. Now Goneril brooked no chiding. So, 
 at favorable times, he, in a wary manner, and not indeli 
 cately, would venture in private interviews gently to 
 make distant allusions to this questionable propensity. 
 She divined him. But, in her cold loveless way, said it 
 was witless to be telling one's dreams, especially foolish 
 ones ; but if the unfortunate man liked connubially to 
 rejoice his soul with such chimeras, much connubial joy 
 might they give him. All this was sad a touching 
 case but all might, perhaps, have been borne by the 
 unfortunate man conscientiously mindful of his vow 
 for better or for worse to love and cherish his dear 
 Goneril so long as kind heaven might spare her to him 
 but when, after all that had happened, the devil of 
 jealousy entered her, a calm, clayey, cakey devil, for 
 none other could possess her, and the object of that de 
 ranged jealousy, her own child, a little girl of seven, her 
 father's consolation and pet ; when he saw Goneril art 
 fully torment the little innocent, and then play the 
 maternal hypocrite with it, the unfortunate man's patient 
 long-suffering gave way. Knowing that she would 
 neither confess nor amend, and might, possibly, become 
 even worse than she was, he thought it but duty as a 
 
STORY OF THE UNFORTUNATE MAN. 93 
 
 father, to withdraw the child from her ; but, loving it as 
 he did, he could not do so without accompanying it into 
 domestic exile himself. Which, hard though it was, he 
 did. Whereupon the whole female neighborhood, who 
 till now had little enough admired dame Groneril, broke 
 out in indignation against a husband, who, without as 
 signing a cause, could deliberately abandon the wife of 
 his bosom, and sharpen the sting to her, too, by depriving 
 her of the solace of retaining her offspring. To all this, 
 self-respect, with Christian charity towards Goneril, long 
 kept the unfortunate man dumb. And well had it been 
 had he continued so ; for when, driven to desperation, 
 he hinted something of the trath of the case, not a soul 
 would credit it ; while for Groneril, she pronounced all 
 he said to be a malicious invention. Ere long, at the 
 suggestion of some womanVrights women, the injured 
 wife began a suit, and, thanks to able counsel and ac 
 commodating testimony, succeeded in such a way, as 
 not only to recover custody of the child, but to get such 
 a settlement awarded upon a separation, as to make 
 penniless the unfortunate man (so he averred), besides, 
 through the legal sympathy she enlisted, effecting a 
 judicial blasting of his private reputation. What made 
 it yet more lamentable was, that the unfortunate man, 
 thinking that, before the court, his wisest plan, as well 
 as the most Christian besides, being, as he deemed, not 
 at variance with the truth of the matter, would be to 
 put forth the plea of the mental derangement of Goneril, 
 which done, he could, with less of mortification to him 
 self, and odium to her, reveal in self-defense those 
 
94 THE CONFIDENCE- MAN. 
 
 eccentricities which had led to his retirement from the 
 joys of wedlock, had much ado in the end to prevent this 
 charge of derangement from fatally recoiling upon him 
 self especially, when, among other things, he alleged 
 her mysterious touchings. In vain did his counsel, 
 striving to make out the derangement to be where, in 
 fact, if anywhere, it was, urge that, to hold otherwise, 
 to hold that such a being as Goneril was sane, this was 
 constructively a libel upon womankind. Libel be it. 
 And all ended by the unfortunate man's subsequently 
 getting wind of Goneril's intention to procure him to 
 be permanently committed for a lunatic. Upon which 
 he fled, and was now an innocent outcast, wandering 
 forlorn in the great valley of the Mississippi, with a 
 weed on his hat for the loss of his Goneril; for he had 
 lately seen by the papers that she was dead, and thought 
 it but proper to comply with the prescribed form of 
 mourning in such cases. For some days past he had 
 been trying to get money enough to return to his child, 
 and was but now started with inadequate funds. 
 
 Now all of this, from the beginning, the good mer 
 chant could not but consider rather hard for the unfor 
 tunate man. 
 
CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 THE MAN WITH THE TRAVELING-CAP EVINCES MUCH HUMANITY, 
 AND IN A WAY WHICH WOULD SEEM TO SHOW HIM TO BE ONE 
 OP THE MOST LOGICAL OF OPTIMISTS. 
 
 YEARS ago, a grave American savan, being in London, 
 observed at an evening party there, a certain coxcombi 
 cal fellow, as he thought, an absurd ribbon in his lapel, 
 and full of smart persiflage, whisking about to the ad 
 miration of as many as were disposed to admire. Great 
 was the savan's disdain ; but, chancing ere long to find 
 himself in a corner with the jackanapes, got into con 
 versation with him, when he was somewhat ill-prepared 
 for the good sense of the jackanapes, but was altogether 
 thrown aback, upon subsequently being whispered by a 
 friend that the jackanapes was almost as great a savan 
 as himself, being no less a personage than Sir Humphrey 
 Davy. 
 
 The above anecdote is given just here by way of an 
 anticipative reminder to sucji readers as, from the kind 
 of jaunty levity, or what may have passed for such, 
 hitherto for the most part appearing in the man with the 
 traveling-cap, may have been tempted into a more or 
 less hasty estimate of him ; that such readers, when 
 
96 THE CONFIDENCE-MAN. 
 
 they find the same person, as they presently will, capa 
 ble of philosophic and humanitarian discourse no mere 
 casual sentence or two as heretofore at times, but solidly 
 sustained throughout an almost entire sitting ; that they 
 may not, likathe American savan, be thereupon betrayed 
 into any surprise incompatible with their own good 
 opinion of their previous penetration. 
 
 The merchant's narration being ended, the other 
 would not deny but that it did in some degree affect 
 him. He hoped he was not without proper feeling for 
 the unfortunate man. But he begged to know in what 
 spirit he bore his alleged calamities. Did he despond 
 or have confidence ? 
 
 The merchant did not, perhaps, take the exact import 
 of the last member of the question ; but answered, that, 
 if whether the unfortunate man was becomingly resigned 
 under his affliction or no, was the point, he could say for 
 him that resigned he was, and to an exemplary degree : 
 for not only, so far as known, did he refrain from any 
 one-sided reflections upon human goodness and human 
 justice, but there was observable in him an air of 
 chastened reliance, and at times tempered cheerfulness. 
 
 Upon which the other observed, that since the unfor 
 tunate man's alleged experience could not be deemed 
 very conciliatory towards a viewof human nature better 
 than human nature was, it largely redounded to his 
 fair-mindedness, as well as piety, that under the alleged 
 dissuasives, apparently so, from philanthropy, he had 
 not, in a moment of excitement, been warped over to 
 the ranks of the misanthropes. He doubted not, also, 
 
THE MAN WITH THE TRAVELING-CAP, ETC. 97 
 
 that with such a man his experience would, in the end, 
 act by a complete and beneficent inversion, and so far 
 from shaking his confidence in his kind, confirm it, and 
 rivet it. Which would the more surely be the case, did 
 he (the unfortunate man) at last become satisfied (as 
 sooner or later he probably would be) that in the dis 
 traction of his mind his Goneril had not in all respects 
 had fair play. At all events, the description of the 
 lady, charity could not but regard as more or less exag 
 gerated, and so far unjust. The truth probably was 
 that she was a wife with some blemishes mixed with 
 some beauties. But when the blemishes were displayed, 
 her husband, no adept in the female nature, had tried to 
 use reason with her, instead of something far more per 
 suasive. Hence his failure to convince and convert. 
 The act of withdrawing from her, seemed, under the 
 circumstances, abrupt. In brief, there were probably 
 small faults on both sides, more than balanced by large 
 virtues ; and one should not be hasty in judging. 
 
 When the merchant, strange to say, opposed views so 
 calm and impartial, and again, with some warmth, de 
 plored the case of the unfortunate man, his companion, 
 not without seriousness, checked him, saying, that this 
 would never do ; that, though but in the most exceptional 
 case, to admit the existence of unmerited misery, more 
 particularly if alleged to have been brought about by 
 unhindered arts of the wicked, such an admission was, 
 to say the least, not prudent ; since, with some, it might 
 unfavorably bias their most important persuasions. Not 
 that those persuasions were legitimately servile to such 
 
 5 
 
98 THE CONFIDENCE- MAN. 
 
 influences. Because, since the common occurrences of 
 life could never, in the nature of things, steadily look one 
 way and tell one story, as flags in the trade-wind ; hence, 
 if the conviction of a Providence, for instance, were in 
 any way made dependent upon such variabilities as 
 everyday events, the degree of that conviction would, 
 in thinking minds, be subject to fluctuations akin to those 
 of the stock-exchange during a long and uncertain war. 
 Here he glanced aside at his transfer-book, and after a 
 moment's pause continued. It was of the essence of a 
 right conviction of the divine nature, as with a right 
 conviction of the human, that, based less on experience 
 than intuition, it rose above the zones of weather. 
 
 When now the merchant, with all his heart, coincided 
 with this (as being a sensible, as well as religious per 
 son, he could not but do), his companion expressed sat 
 isfaction, that, in an age of some distrust on such sub 
 jects, he could yet meet with one who shared with him, 
 almost to the full, so sound and sublime a confidence. 
 
 Still, he was far from the illiberality of denying that 
 philosophy duly bounded was not permissible. Only 
 he deemed it at least desirable that, when such a case as 
 that alleged of the unfortunate man was made the sub 
 ject of philosophic discussion, it should be so philoso 
 phized upon, as not to afford handles to those unblessed 
 with the true light. For, but to grant that there was 
 so much as a mystery about such a case, might by those 
 persons be held for a tacit surrender of the question. 
 And as for the apparent license temporarily permitted 
 sometimes, to the bad over the good (as was by implica- 
 
THE MAN WITH THE TRAVELING-CAP, ETC. 99 
 
 tion alleged with regard to Goneril and the unforfcrmate 
 man), it might be injudicious there to lay too much 
 polemic stress upon the doctrine of future retribution as 
 the vindication of present impunity. For though, indeed, 
 to the right-minded that doctrine was true, and of suffi 
 cient solace, yet with the perverse the polemic mention 
 of it might but provoke the shallow, though mischievous 
 conceit, that such a doctrine was but tantamount to the 
 one which should affirm that Providence was not now. 
 but was going to be. In short, with all sorts of cavil- 
 ers, it was best, both for them and everybody, that who 
 ever had the true light should stick behind the secure 
 Malakoffof confidence, nor be tempted forth to hazard 
 ous skirmishes on the open ground of reason. There 
 fore, he deemed it unadvisable in the good man, even in 
 the privacy of his own mind, or in communion with a 
 congenial one, to indulge in too much latitude of philoso 
 phizing, or, indeed, of compassionating, since this might 
 beget an indiscreet habit of thinking and feeling which 
 might unexpectedly betray him upon unsuitable occa 
 sions. Indeed, whether in private or public, there was 
 nothing which a good man was more bound to guard 
 himself against than, on some topics, the emotional un 
 reserve of his natural heart ; for, that the natural heart, 
 in certain points, was not what it might be, men had 
 been authoritatively admonished. 
 
 But he thought he might be getting dry. 
 
 The merchant, in his good-nature, thought otherwise, 
 and said that he would be glad to refresh himself with 
 such fruit all day. It was sitting under a ripe pulpit, 
 
100 THE CONFIDENCE-MAN. 
 
 and better such a seat than under a ripe peach- 
 tree. 
 
 The other was pleased to find that he had not, as he 
 feared, been prosing ; but would rather not be consid 
 ered in the formal light of a preacher ; he preferred 
 being still received in that of the equal and genial com 
 panion. To which end, throwing still more of socia 
 bility into his manner, he again reverted to the unfor 
 tunate man. Take the very worst view of that case ; 
 admit that his G-oneril was, indeed, a Goneril ; how 
 fortunate to be at last rid of this Groneril, both by 
 nature and by law ? If he were acquainted with the 
 unfortunate man, instead of condoling with him, he 
 would congratulate him. Great good fortune had this 
 unfortunate man. Lucky dog, he dared say, after all. 
 
 To which the merchant replied, that he earnestly 
 hoped it might be so, and at any rate he tried his best 
 to comfort himself with the persuasion that, if the un 
 fortunate man was not happy in this world, he would, 
 at least, be so in another. 
 
 His companion made no question of the unfortunate 
 man's happiness in both worlds ; and, presently calling 
 for some champagne, invited the merchant to partake, 
 upon the playful plea that, whatever notions other than 
 felicitous ones he might associate with the unfortunate 
 man, a little champagne would readily bubble away. 
 
 At intervals they slowly quaffed several glasses in 
 silence and thoughtfulness. At last the merchant's ex 
 pressive face flushed, his eye moistly beamed, his lips 
 trembled with an imaginative and feminine sensibility. 
 
THE MAN WITH THE T RAVE L IN G- CAP, ETC. 101 
 
 Without sending a single fume to his head, the wine 
 seemed to shoot to his heart, and begin soothsaying 
 there. "Ah," he cried, pushing his glass from him, 
 " Ah, wine is good, and confidence is good ; but can wine 
 or confidence percolate down through all the stony 
 strata of hard considerations, and drop warmly and 
 ruddily in.to the cold cave of truth ? Truth will not be 
 comforted. Led by dear charity, lured by sweet hope, 
 fond fancy essays this feat ; but in vain ; mere dreams 
 and ideals, they explode in your hand, leaving naught 
 but the scorching behind!" 
 
 " Why, why, why !" in amaze, at the burst ; " bless 
 me, if In vino veritas be a true saying, then, for all the 
 fine confidence you professed with me, just now, dis 
 trust, deep distrust, underlies it; and ten thousand 
 strong, like the Irish Rebellion, breaks out in you now. 
 That wine, good wine, should do it! Upon my soul," 
 half seriously, half humorously, securing the bottle, 
 " you shall drink no more of it. Wine was meant to 
 gladden the heart, not grieve it; to heighten confi 
 dence, not depress it." 
 
 Sobered, shamed, all but confounded, by this raillery, 
 the most telling rebuke under such circumstances, the 
 merchant stared about him, and then, with altered mien, 
 stammeringly confessed, that he was almost as much 
 surprised as his companion, at what had escaped him. 
 He did not understand it ; was quite at a loss to account 
 for such a rhapsody popping out of him unbidden. It 
 could hardly be the champagne ; he felt his brain un 
 affected ; in fact, if anything, the wine had acted upon 
 
102 THE CONFIDENCE- MAN. 
 
 it something like white of egg in coffee, clarifying and 
 brightening." 
 
 "Brightening? brightening it may be, but less like 
 the white of egg in coffee, than like stove-lustre on a 
 stove black, brightening seriously, I repent calling for 
 the champagne. To a temperament like yours, cham 
 pagne is not to be recommended. Pray, my clear sir, do 
 you feel quite yourself again ? Confidence restored ?" 
 
 " I hope so ; I think I may say it is so. But we have 
 had a long talk, and I think I must retire now." 
 
 So saying, the merchant rose, and making his adieus, 
 left the table with the air of one, mortified at having 
 been tempted by his own honest goodness, accidentally 
 stimulated into making mad disclosures to himself as 
 to another of the queer, unaccountable caprices of his 
 natural heart. 
 
CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 WORTH THE CONSIDERATION OP THOSE TO WHOM IT MAY PROVE 
 WORTH CONSIDERING. 
 
 As the last chapter was begun with a reminder look 
 ing forwards, so the present must consist of one glancing 
 backwards. 
 
 To some, it may raise a degree of surprise that one 
 so full of confidence, as the merchant has throughout 
 shown himself, up to the moment of his late sudden im 
 pulsiveness, should, in that instance, have betrayed such 
 a depth of discontent. He may be thought inconsistent, 
 and even so he is. But for this, is the author to be 
 blamed ? True, it may be urged that there is nothing 
 a writer of fiction should more carefully see to, as there 
 is nothing a sensible reader will more carefully look for, 
 than that, in the depiction of any character, its consistency 
 should be preserved. But this, though at first blush, 
 seeming reasonable enough, may, upon a closer view, 
 prove not so much so. For how does it couple with 
 another requirement equally insisted upon, perhaps 
 that, while to all fiction is allowed some play of invention, 
 yet, fiction based on fact should never be contradictory 
 to it ; and is it not a fact, that, in real life, a consistent 
 
104 THE CONFIDENCE- MAN. 
 
 character is a rara avis ? Which being so, the distaste 
 of readers to the contrary sort in books, can hardly arise 
 from any sense of their untrueness. It may rather be 
 from perplexity as to understanding them. But if the 
 acutest sage be often at his wits' ends to understand 
 living character, shall those who are not sages expect to 
 run and read character in those mere phantoms which 
 flit along a page, like shadows along a wall ? That 
 fiction, where every character can, by reason of its con 
 sistency, be comprehended at a glance, either exhibits 
 but sections of character, making them appear for 
 wholes, or else is very untrue to reality ; while, on the 
 other hand, that author who draws a character, even 
 though to common view incongruous in its parts, as the 
 flying-squirrel, and, at different periods, as much at 
 variance with itself as the butterfly is with the cater 
 pillar into which it changes, may yet, in so doing, be 
 not false but faithful to facts. 
 
 If reason be judge, no writer has produced such incon 
 sistent characters as nature herself has. It must call 
 for no small sagacity in a reader unerringly to discrimi 
 nate in a novel between the inconsistencies of conception 
 and those of life as elsewhere. Experience is the only 
 guide here ; but as no one man can be coextensive with 
 what is, it may be unwise in every case to rest upon it. 
 When the duck-billed beaver of Australia was first 
 brought stuffed to England, the naturalists, appealing 
 to their classifications, maintained that there was. in 
 reality, no such creature; the bill in the specimen 
 must needs be, in some way, artificially stuck on. 
 
WORTH THE CONSIDERATION, ETC. 105 
 
 But let nature, to the perplexity of the naturalists, pro 
 duce her duck-billed beavers as she may, lesser authors, 
 some may hold, have no business to be perplexing 
 readers with duck-billed characters. Always, they 
 should represent human nature not in obscurity, but 
 transparency, which, indeed, is the practice with most 
 novelists, and is, perhaps, in certain cases, someway felt 
 to be a kind of honor rendered by them to their kind. 
 But whether it involve honor or otherwise might be 
 mooted, considering that, if these waters of human 
 nature can be so readily seen through, it may be either 
 that they are very pure or very shallow. Upon the 
 whole, it might rather be thought, that he, who, in view 
 of its inconsistencies, says of human nature the same that, 
 in view of its contrasts, is said of the divine nature, that 
 it is past finding out, thereby evinces a better apprecia 
 tion of it than he who, by always representing it in a 
 clear light, leaves it to be inferred that he clearly knows 
 all about it. 
 
 But though there is a prejudice against inconsistent 
 characters in books, yet the prejudice bears the other 
 way, when what seemed at first their inconsistency, 
 afterwards, by the skill of the writer, turns out to be 
 their good keeping. The great masters excel in nothing 
 so much as in this very particular. They challenge 
 astonishment at the tangled web of some character, 
 and then raise admiration still greater at their satisfac 
 tory unraveling of it ; in this way throwing open, 
 sometimes to the understanding even of school misses, 
 the last complications of that spirit which is affirm- 
 
106 THE CONFIDENCE-MAN. 
 
 ed by its Creator to be fearfully and wonderfully 
 made. 
 
 At least, something like this is claimed for certain 
 psychological novelists; nor will the claim be here 
 disputed. Yet, as touching this point, it may prove 
 suggestive, that all those sallies of ingenuity, having for 
 their end the revelation of human nature on fixed prin 
 ciples, have, by the best judges, been excluded with 
 contempt from the ranks of the sciences palmistry, 
 physiognomy, phrenology, psychology. Likewise, the 
 fact, that in all ages such conflicting views have, by the 
 most eminent minds, been taken of mankind, would, as 
 with, other topics, seem some presumption of a pretty 
 general and pretty thorough ignorance of it. Which 
 may appear the less improbable if it be considered that, 
 after poring over the best novels professing to portray 
 human nature, the studious youth will still run risk of 
 being too often at fault upon actually entering the world ; 
 whereas, had he been furnished with a true delineation, 
 it ought to fare with him something as with a stranger 
 entering, map in hand, Boston town ; the streets may be 
 very crooked, he may often pause ; but, thanks to his true 
 map, he does not hopelessly lose his way. Nor, to this 
 comparison, can it be an adequate objection, that the 
 twistings of the town are always the same, and those of 
 human nature subject to variation. The grand points of 
 human nature are the same to-day they were a thousand 
 years ago. The only variability in them is in expression, 
 not in feature. 
 
 But as, in spite of seeming discouragement, some 
 
WORTH THE CONSIDERATION, ETC. 107 
 
 mathematicians are yet in hopes of hitting upon an exact 
 method of determining the longitude, the more earnest 
 psychologists may, in the face of previous failures, still 
 cherish expectations with regard to some mode of infal 
 libly discovering the heart of man. 
 
 But enough has been said by way of apology for 
 whatever may have seemed amiss or obscure in the 
 character of the merchant ; so nothing remains but to turn 
 to our comedy, or, rather, to pass from the comedy of 
 thought to that of action. 
 
CHAPTER XV. 
 
 AN OLD MISER, UPON SUITABLE REPRESENTATIONS, IS PREVAILED UPON TO 
 VENTURE AN INVESTMENT. 
 
 THE merchant having withdrawn, the other remained 
 seated alone for a time, with the air of one who, after 
 having conversed with some excellent man, carefully 
 ponders what fell from him, however intellectually in 
 ferior it may be, that none of the profit may be lost 5 
 happy if from any honest word he has heard he can 
 derive some hint, which, besides confirming him in the 
 theory of virtue, may, likewise, serve for a finger-post 
 to virtuous action. 
 
 Ere long his eye brightened, as if some such hint was 
 now caught. He rises, book in hand, quits the cabin, 
 and enters upon a sort of corridor, narrow and dim, a 
 by-way to a retreat less ornate and cheery than the 
 former ; in short, the emigrants' quarters ; but which, 
 owing to the present trip being a down-river one, will 
 doubtless be found comparatively tenantless. Owing 
 to obstructions against the side windows, the whole 
 place is dim and dusky; very much so, for the most 
 part; yet, by starts, haggardly lit here and there by 
 narrow, capricious sky-lights in the cornices. But there 
 
AN OLD MISER, ETC. 109 
 
 would seem no special need for light, the place being 
 designed more to pass the night in, than the day ; 
 in brief, a pine barrens dormitory, of knotty pine bunks, 
 without bedding. As with the nests in the geometrical 
 towns of the associate penguin and pelican, these bunks 
 were disposed with Philadelphian regularity, but, like 
 the cradle of the oriole, they were pendulous, and, 
 moreover, were, so to speak, three-story cradles; the 
 description of one of which will suffice for all. 
 
 Four ropes, secured to the ceiling, passed downwards 
 through auger-holes bored in the corners of three rough 
 planks, which at equal distances rested on knots verti 
 cally tied in the ropes, the lowermost plank but an inch 
 or two from the floor, the whole affair resembling, on a 
 large scale, rope book-shelves ; only, instead of hanging 
 firmly against a wall, they swayed to and fro at the 
 least suggestion of motion, but were more especial \y 
 lively upon the provocation of a green emigrant sprawl 
 ing into one, and trying to lay himself out there, when 
 the cradling would be such as almost to toss him back 
 whence he came. In consequence, one less inexperi 
 enced, essaying, repose on the uppermost shelf, was lia 
 ble to serious disturbance, should a raw beginner select 
 a shelf beneath. Sometimes a throng of poor emigrants, 
 coming at night in a sudden rain to occupy these oriole 
 nests, would through ignorance of their peculiarity 
 bring about such a rocking uproar of carpentry, joining 
 to it such an uproar of exclamations, that it seemed as if 
 some luckless ship, with all its crew, was being dashed 
 to pieces among the rocks. They were beds devised 
 
110 THE CONFIDENCE- MAN. 
 
 by some sardonic foe of poor travelers, to deprive them 
 of that tranquillity which should precede, as well as 
 accompany, slumber. Procrustean beds, on whose hard 
 grain humble worth and honesty writhed, still invoking 
 repose, while but torment responded. Ah, did any one 
 make such a bunk for himself, instead of having it made 
 for him, it might be just, but how cruel, to say, You 
 must lie on it ! 
 
 But, purgatory as the place would appear, the 
 stranger advances into it ; and, like Orpheus in his gay 
 descent to Tartarus, lightly hums to himself an opera 
 snatch. 
 
 Suddenly there is a rustling, then a creaking, one of 
 the cradles swings out from a murky nook, a sort of 
 wasted penguin-flipper is supplicatingly put forth, 
 while a wail like that of Dives is heard : " Water, 
 water !" 
 
 It was the miser of whom the merchant had spoken. 
 
 Swift as a sister-of- charity, the stranger hovers over 
 him : 
 
 " My poor, poor sir, what can I do for you ?" 
 
 " Ugh, ugh water !" 
 
 Darting out, he procures a glass, returns, and, holding it 
 to the sufferer's lips, supports his head while he drinks : 
 " And did they let you lie here, my poor sir, racked 
 with this parching thirst ?" 
 
 The miser, a lean old man, whose flesh seemed salted 
 cod-fish, dry as combustibles ; head, like one whittled 
 by an idiot out of a knot ; flat, bony mouth, nipped 
 between buzzard nose and chin ; expression, flitting 
 
AN OLD MISER, ETC. Ill 
 
 between hunks and imbecile now one, now the other 
 he made no response. His eyes were closed, his cheek 
 lay upon an old white moleskin coat, rolled under his 
 head like a wizened apple upon a grimy snow-bank. 
 
 Revived at last, he inclined towards his ministrant, 
 and, in a voice disastrous with a cough, said: "I am 
 old and miserable, a poor beggar, not worth a shoe 
 string how can I repay you ?" 
 
 " By giving me your confidence." 
 
 "Confidence!" he squeaked, with changed manner, 
 while the pallet swung, " little left at my age, but take 
 the stale remains, and welcome." 
 
 "Such as it is, though, you give it. Very good. 
 Now give me a hundred dollars." 
 
 Upon this the miser was all panic. His hands 
 groped towards his waist, then suddenly flew upward 
 beneath his moleskin pillow, and there lay clutching 
 something out of sight. Meantime, to himself he inco 
 herently mumbled: "Confidence? Cant, gammon! 
 Confidence ? hum, bubble ! Confidence ? fetch, gouge ! 
 Hundred dollars? hundred devils !" 
 
 Half spent, he lay mute awhile, then feebly raising 
 himself, in a voice for the moment made strong by the 
 sarcasm, said, "A hundred dollars? rather high price to 
 put upon confidence. But don't you see I am a poor, 
 old rat here, dying in the wainscot? You have served 
 me ; but, wretch that I am, I can but cough you my 
 thanks, ugh, ugh, ugh!" 
 
 This time his cough was so violent that its convul 
 sions were imparted to the plank, which swung him 
 
112 THE CONFIDENCE-MAN. 
 
 about like a stone in a sling preparatory to its being 
 hurled. 
 
 Ugh, ugh, ugh !" 
 
 " What a shocking cough. I wish, my friend, the 
 herb-doctor was here now ; abox of his Omni-Balsamic 
 Reinvigorator would do you good." 
 
 "Ugh, ugh, ugh!" 
 
 " I've a good mind to go find him. He's aboard 
 somewhere. I saw his long, snuff-colored surtout. 
 Trust me, his medicines are the best in the 
 world." 
 
 "Ugh, ugh, ugh!" 
 
 " Oh, how sorry I am." 
 
 " No doubt of it," squeaked the other again, " but go, 
 get your charity out on deck. There parade the pursy 
 peacocks; they don't cough down here in desertion and 
 darkness, like poor old me. Look how scaly a pauper I 
 am, clove with this churchyard cough. Ugh, ugh, 
 ugh!" 
 
 "Again, how sorry I feel, not only for your cough, 
 but your poverty. Such a rare chance made unavail 
 able. Did you have but the .sum named, how I could 
 invest it for you. Treble profits. But confidence 
 I fear that, even had you the precious cash, you 
 would not ,have the more precious confidence I speak 
 of." 
 
 " Ugh, ugh, ugh !" flightily raising himself. " What's 
 that? How, how? Then you don't want the money 
 for yourself?" 
 
 " My dear, dear sir, how could you impute to me 
 
AN OLD MISER, ETC. 113 
 
 such preposterous self-seeking? To solicit out of hand, 
 for my private behoof, an hundred dollars from a perfect 
 stranger ? I am not mad, my dear sir." 
 
 " How, how?" still more bewildered, " do you, then, 
 go about the world, gratis, seeking to invest people's 
 money for them ?" 
 
 " My humble profession, sir. I live not for myself ; 
 but the world will not have confidence in me, and yet 
 confidence in me were great gain." 
 
 " But, but," in a kind of vertigo, "what do do you 
 do do with people's money ? Ugh, ugh ! How is the 
 gain made ?" 
 
 " To tell that would ruin me. That known, every 
 one would be going into the business, and it would be 
 overdone. A secret, a mystery all I have to do with 
 you is to receive your confidence, and all you have to 
 do with me is, in due time, to receive it back, thrice 
 paid in trebling profits." 
 
 "What, what?" imbecility in the ascendant once 
 more ; " but the vouchers, the vouchers," suddenly 
 hunkish again. 
 
 " Honesty's best voucher is honesty's face." 
 
 " Can't see yours, though," peering through the ob 
 scurity. 
 
 From this last alternating flicker of rationality, the 
 miser fell back, sputtering, into his previous gibberish, 
 but it took now an arithmetical turn. Eyes closed, he 
 lay muttering to himself 
 
 " One hundred, one hundred two hundred, two hun 
 dred three hundred, three hundred." 
 
114 THE CONFIDENCE-MAN. 
 
 He opened his eyes, feebly stared, and still more, fee 
 bly said 
 
 "It's a little dim here, ain't it? Ugh. ugh! But, 
 as well as my poor old eyes can see, you look hon 
 est.'-' 
 
 " I am glad to hear that." 
 
 " If if, now, I should put" trying to raise himself, 
 but vainly, excitement having all but exhausted him 
 " if, if now, I should put, put " 
 
 " No ifs. Downright confidence, or none. So help 
 me heaven, I will have no half-confidences." 
 
 He said it with an indifferent and superior air, and 
 seemed moving to go. 
 
 " Don't, don't leave me, friend ; bear with me ; age 
 can't help some distrust ; it can't, friend, it can't. Ugh, 
 ugh, ugh ! Oh, I am so old and miserable. I ought to 
 have a guardeean. Tell me, if -7-" 
 
 " If? No more !" 
 
 " Stay ! how soon ugh, ugh ! would my money be 
 trebled? How soon, friend?" 
 
 "You won't confide. Good-bye !" 
 
 " Stay, stay," falling back now like an infant, " I 
 confide, I confide ; help, friend, my distrust!" 
 
 From an old buckskin pouch, tremulously dragged 
 forth, ten hoarded eagles, tarnished into the appearance 
 of ten old horn-buttons, were taken, and half-eagerly, 
 half-reluctantly, offered. 
 
 " I know not whether I should accept this slack con 
 fidence," said the other coldly, receiving the gold, " but 
 an eleventh-hour confidence, a sick-bed confidence, a 
 
AN OLD MISER, ETC. 115 
 
 distempered, death-bed confidence, after all. Give me 
 the healthy confidence of healthy men, with their 
 healthy wits about them. But let that pass. All right. 
 Good-bye!" 
 
 " Nay, back, back receipt, my receipt ! Ugh, ugh, 
 ugh ! Who are you ? What have I done ? Where go 
 you ? My gold, my gold ! Ugh, ugh, ugh !" 
 
 But, unluckily for this final flicker of reason, the 
 stranger was now beyond ear-shot, nor was any one else 
 within hearing of so feeble a call. 
 
CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 A SICK MAN, AFTER SOME IMPATIENCE, IS INDUCED TO BECOME A PATIENT 
 
 THE sky slides into blue, the bluffs into bloom ; the 
 rapid Mississippi expands ; runs sparkling and gurgling, 
 all over in eddies ; one magnified wake of a seventy-four. 
 The sun comes out, a golden huzzar, from his tent, flash 
 ing his helm on the world. All things, warmed in the 
 landscape, leap. Speeds the daedal boat as a dream. 
 
 But, withdrawn in a corner, wrapped about in a shawl, 
 sits an unparticipating man, visited, but not warmed, by 
 the sun a plant whose hour seems over , while buds 
 are blowing and seeds are astir. On a stool at his left 
 sits a stranger in a snuff-colored surtout, the collar 
 thrown back ; his hand waving in persuasive gesture, his 
 eye beaming with hope. But not easily may hope be 
 awakened in one long tranced into hopelessness by a 
 chronic complaint. 
 
 To some remark the sick man , by word or look, 
 seemed to have just made an impatiently querulous 
 answer, when, with a deprecatory air, the other re 
 sumed : 
 
 " Nay, think not I seek to cry up my treatment by 
 
A SICK MAN, ETC. 117 
 
 crying down that of others. And yet, when one is con 
 fident he has truth on his side, and that it is not on the 
 other, it is no very easy thing to be charitable ; not that 
 temper is the bar, but conscience; for charity would 
 beget toleration, you know, which is a kind of implied 
 permitting, and in effect a kind of countenancing ; and 
 that which is countenanced is so far furthered. But 
 should untruth be furthered? Still, while for the 
 world's good I refuse to further the cause of these mine 
 ral doctors, I would fain regard them, not as willful 
 wrong-doers, but good Samaritans erring. And is this 
 I put it to you, sir is this the view of an arrogant 
 rival and pretender ?" 
 
 His physical power all dribbled and gone, the sick 
 man replied not by voice or by gesture ; but, with feeble 
 dumb-show of his face, seemed to be saying " Pray leave 
 me ; who was ever cured by talk ?" 
 
 But the other, as if not unused to make allowances 
 for such despondency, proceeded ; and kindly, yet firmly: 
 
 " You tell me, that by advice of an eminent physiolo 
 gist in Louisville, you took tincture of iron. For what ? 
 To restore your lost energy. And how ? Why, in 
 healthy subjects iron is naturally found in the blood, and 
 iron in the bar is strong ; ergo, iron is the source of 
 animal invigoration. But you being deficient in vigor, 
 it follows that the cause is deficiency of iron. Iron, then, 
 must be put into you ; and so your tincture. Now as 
 to the theory here, I am mute. But in modesty assum 
 ing its truth, and then, as a plain man viewing that 
 theory in practice, I would respectfully question your 
 
118 THE CONFIDENCE-MAN. 
 
 eminent physiologist: 'Sir,' I would say, 'though by natu 
 ral processes, lifeless natures taken as nutriment become 
 vitalized, yet is a lifeless nature, under any circum 
 stances, capable of a living transmission, with all its quali 
 ties as a lifeless nature unchanged ? If, sir, nothing can 
 be incorporated with the living body but by assimilation, 
 and if that implies the conversion of one thing to a 
 different thing (as, in a lamp, oil is assimilated into 
 flame), is it, in this view, likely, that by banqueting on 
 fat, Calvin Edson will fatten ? That is, will what is fat 
 on the board prove fat on the bones? If it will, then, 
 sir, what is iron in the vial will prove iron in the vein.' 
 Seems that conclusion too confident ?" 
 
 But the sick man again turned his dumb-show look, 
 as much as to say, "Pray leave me. Why, with painful 
 words, hint the vanity of that which the pains of this 
 body have too painfully proved ?" 
 
 But the other, as if unobservant of that querulous 
 look, went on : 
 
 "But this notion, that science can play farmer to the 
 flesh, making there what living soil it pleases, seems not 
 so strange as that other conceit that science is now-a- 
 days so expert that, in consumptive cases, as yours, it 
 can, by prescription of the inhalation of certain vapors, 
 achieve the sublimest act of omnipotence, breathing 
 into all but lifeless dust the breath of life. For did you 
 not tell me, my poor sir, that by order of the great 
 chemist in Baltimore, for three weeks you were never 
 driven out without a respirator, and for a given time of 
 every day sat bolstered up in a sort of gasometer, inspir- 
 
A SICK MAN, ETC. 119 
 
 ing vapors generated by the burning of drugs ? as if this 
 concocted atmosphere of man were an antidote to the 
 poison of God's natural air. Oh, who can wonder at 
 that old reproach against science, that it is atheistical ? 
 And here is my prime reason for opposing these chemi 
 cal practitioners, who have sought out so many inven 
 tions. For what do their inventions indicate, unless it 
 be that kind and degree of pride in human skill, which 
 seems scarce compatible with reverential dependence 
 upon the power above ? Try to rid my mind of it as I 
 may, yet still these chemical practitioners with their 
 tinctures, and fumes, and braziers, and occult incant 
 ations, seem to me like Pharaoh's vain sorcerers, trying 
 to beat down the will of heaven. Day and night, in all 
 charity, I intercede for them, that heaven may not, in 
 its own language, be provoked to anger with their in 
 ventions ; may not take vengeance of their inventions. A 
 thousand pities that you should ever have been in the 
 hands of these Egyptians." 
 
 But again came nothing but the dumb-show look, as 
 much as to say, "Pray leave me ; quacks, and indignation 
 against quacks, both are vain." 
 
 But, once more, the other went on : " How different 
 we herb-doctors ! who claim nothing, invent nothing ; 
 but staff in hand, in glades, and upon hillsides, go about 
 in nature, humbly seeking her cures. True Indian doc 
 tors, though not learned in names, we are not unfamiliar 
 with essences successors of Solomon the Wise, who 
 knew all vegetables, from the cedar of Lebanon, to the 
 hyssop on the wall. Yes, Solomon was the first of 
 
120 THE CONFIDENCE-MAN. 
 
 herb-doctors. Nor were the virtues of herbs unhonored 
 by yet older ages. Is it not writ, that on a moonlight 
 night, 
 
 " Medea gathered the enchanted herbs 
 That did renew old JEson ?" 
 
 9 
 
 Ah, would you but have confidence, you should be 
 the new -ZEson, and I your Medea. A few vials of my 
 Omni-Balsamic Reinvigorator would, I am certain, give 
 you some strength." 
 
 Upon this, indignation and abhorrence seemed to 
 work by their excess the effect promised of the balsam. 
 Roused from that long apathy of impotence, the cadaver 
 ous man started, and, in a voice that was as the sound 
 of obstructed air gurgling through a maze of broken 
 honey-combs, cried : " Begone ! You are all alike. The 
 name of doctor, the dream of helper, condemns you. For 
 years I have been but a gallipot for you experimentizers 
 to rinse your experiments into, and now, in this livid 
 skin, partake of the nature of my contents. Begone ! 
 I hate ye." 
 
 " I were inhuman, could I take affront at a want of 
 confidence, born of too bitter an experience of betrayers. 
 Yet, permit one who is not without feeling " 
 
 " Begone ! Just in that voice talked to me, not six 
 months ago, the German doctor at the water cure, from 
 which I now return, six months and sixty pangs nigher 
 my grave." . 
 
 "The water-cure? Oh, fatal delusion of the well- 
 meaning Preisnitz ! Sir, trust me " 
 
A SICK MAX, ETC. 121 
 
 " Begone !" 
 
 " Nay, an invalid should not always have his own 
 way. Ah, sir, reflect how untimely this distrust in one 
 like you. How weak you are ; and weakness, is it not 
 the time for confidence? Yes, when through weakness 
 everything bids despair, then is the time to-get strength 
 by confidence." 
 
 Relenting in his air, the sick man cast upon him a 
 long glance of beseeching, as if saying, " With confidence 
 must come hope ; and how can hope be?" 
 
 The herb-doctor took a sealed paper box from his 
 surtout pocket, and holding it towards him, said solemnly, 
 *' Turn not away. This may be the last time of health's 
 asking. Work upon yourself; invoke confidence, though 
 from ashes ; rouse it ; for your life, rouse it, and invoke 
 it, I say." 
 
 The other trembled, was silent ; and then, a little 
 commanding himself, asked the ingredients of the medi 
 cine. 
 
 "Herbs." 
 
 "What herbs?' And the nature of them? And the 
 reason for giving them?" 
 
 "It cannot be made known." 
 
 " Then I will none of you." 
 
 Sedately observant of the juiceless, joyless form be 
 fore him, the herb-doctor was mute a moment, then 
 said: " I give up." 
 
 "How?" 
 
 " You are sick, and a philosopher." 
 
 "No, no; not the last."' 
 
122 THE C O N F I D E N C E - M A N . 
 
 " But, to demand the ingredient, with the reason for 
 giving, is the mark of a philosopher; just as the conse 
 quence is the penalty of a fool. A sick philosopher is 
 incurable?" 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 " Because he has no confidence." 
 
 " How does that make him incurable?" 
 
 " Because either he spurns his powder, or, if he take 
 it, it proves a blank cartridge, though the same given to 
 a rustic in like extremity, would act like a charm. I 
 am no materialist ; but the mind so acts upon the body, 
 that if the one have no confidence, neither has the other." 
 
 Again, the sick man appeared not unmoved. He 
 seemed to be thinking what in candid truth could be 
 said to all this. At length, " You talk of confidence. 
 How comes it that when brought low himself, the herb- 
 doctor, who was most confident to prescribe in other 
 cases, proves least confident to prescribe in his own ; 
 having small confidence in himself for himself?" 
 
 " But he has confidence in the brother he calls in. 
 And that he does so, is no reproach to him, since he 
 knows that when the body is prostrated, the mind is 
 not erect. Yes, in this hour the herb-doctor does dis 
 trust himself, but not his art." 
 
 The sick man's knowledge did not warrant him to 
 gainsay this. But he seemed not grieved at it ; glad to 
 be confuted in a way tending towards his wish. 
 
 "Then you give me hope ?" his sunken eye turned up. 
 
 " Hope is proportioned to confidence. How much 
 confidence you give me, so "much hope do I give you. 
 
A SICK MAX, ETC. 123 
 
 For this," lifting the box, "if all depended upon this, I 
 should rest. It is nature's own." 
 
 " Nature!" 
 
 "Why do you start?" 
 
 " I know not," with a sort of shudder, " but I have 
 heard of a book entitled 'Nature in Disease.' " 
 
 " A title I cannot approve ; it is suspiciously scien 
 tific. 'Nature in Disease?' As if nature, divine na 
 ture, were aught but health ; as if through nature dis 
 ease is decreed ! But did I not before hint of the ten 
 dency of science, that forbidden tree ? Sir, if despond 
 ency is yours from recalling that title, dismiss it. Trust 
 me, nature is health ; for health is good, and nature 
 cannot work ill. As little can she work error. Get 
 nature, and you get well. Now, I repeat, this medicine 
 is nature's own." 
 
 Again the sick man could not, according to his light, 
 conscientiously disprove what was said. Neither, as 
 before, did he seem over-anxious to do so ; the less, as 
 in his sensitiveness it seemed to him, that hardly could 
 he offer so to do without something like the appearance 
 of a kind of implied irreligion ; nor in his heart was he 
 ungrateful, that since a spirit opposite to that pervaded 
 all the herb-doctor's hopeful words, therefore, for hope 
 fulness, he (the sick man) had not alone medical warrant, 
 but also doctrinal. 
 
 " Then you do really think," hectically, " that if I 
 take this medicine," mechanically reaching out for it, 
 " I shall regain my health ?" 
 
 "I will not encourage false hopes," relinquishing to 
 
124 THE CONFIDENCE- MAN. 
 
 him the box, "I will be frank with you. Though 
 frankness is not always the weakness of the mineral 
 practitioner, yet the herb doctor must be frank, or 
 nothing. Now then, sir, in your case, a radical cure 
 such a cure, understand, as should make you robust 
 such a cure, sir, I do not and cannot promise." 
 
 " Oh, you need not .' only restore me the power of 
 being something else to others than a burdensome care, 
 and to myself a droning grief. Only cure me of this 
 misery of weakness ; only make me so that I can walk 
 about in the sun and not draw the flies to me, as lured 
 by the coming of decay. Only do that but that." 
 
 " You ask not much ; you are wise ; not in vain have 
 you suffered. That little you ask, I think, can be 
 granted. But remember, not in a day, nor a week, nor 
 perhaps a month, but sooner or later ; I say not exactly 
 when, for I am neither prophet nor charlatan. Still, if, 
 according to the directions in your box there, you take 
 my medicine steadily, without assigning an especial day, 
 near or remote, to discontinue it, then may you calmly 
 look for some eventual result of good. But again I say, 
 you must have confidence." 
 
 Feverishly he replied that he now trusted he had, and 
 hourly should pray for its' increase. When suddenly 
 relapsing into one of those strange caprices peculiar to 
 some invalids, he added : " But to one like me, it is so 
 hard, so hard. The most confident hopes so often have 
 failed me, and as often have I vowed never, no, never, 
 to trust them again. Oh," feebly wringing his hands, 
 " you do not know, you do not know." 
 
A SICK MAN, ETC. 125 
 
 " I know this, that never did a right confidence come 
 to naught. But time is short ; you hold your cure, to 
 retain or reject." 
 
 " I retain," with a clinch, "and now how much ?" 
 
 " As much as you can evoke from your heart and 
 heaven." 
 
 " How? the price of this medicine ?" 
 
 " I thought it was confidence you meant ; how much 
 confidence you should have. The medicine, that is 
 half a dollar a vial. Your box holds six." 
 
 The money was paid. 
 
 "Now, sir," said the herb-doctor, "my business calls 
 me away, and it may so be that I shall never see you 
 again; if then " 
 
 He paused, for the sick man's countenance fell blank. 
 
 " Forgive me," cried the other, " forgive that impru 
 dent phrase l never see you again.' Though I solely 
 intended it with reference to myself, yet I had forgotten 
 what your sensitiveness might be. I repeat, then, that 
 it may be that we shall not soon have a second interview, 
 so that hereafter, should another of my boxes be needed, 
 you may not be able to replace it except by purchase at 
 the shops ; and, in so doing, you may run more or less 
 risk of taking some not salutary mixture. For such is 
 the popularity of the Omni-Balsamic Eeinvigorator 
 thriving not by the credulity of the simple, but the 
 trust of the wise that certain contrivers have not been 
 idle, though I would not, indeed, hastily affirm of them 
 that they are aware of the sad consequences to the 
 public. Homicides and murderers, some call those con- 
 
126 THE t! O N F I D E X C E - M AN . 
 
 trivers ; but I do not ; for murder (if such a crime be 
 possible) comes from the heart, and these men's motives 
 come from the purse. Were they not in poverty, I 
 think they would hardly do what they do. Still, the 
 public interests forbid that I should let their needy 
 device for a living succeed. In short, I have adopted 
 precautions. Take the wrapper from any of my vials 
 and hold it to the light, you will see water-marked in 
 capitals the word ' confidence* which is the countersign 
 of the medicine, as I wish it was of the world. The 
 wrapper bears that mark or else the medicine is coun 
 terfeit. But if still any lurking doubt should remain, 
 pray enclose the wrapper to this address," handing a 
 card, " and by return mail I will answer." 
 
 At first the sick man listened, with the air of vivid 
 interest, but gradually, while the other was still talking, 
 another strange caprice came over him, and he presented 
 the aspect of the most calamitous dejection. 
 
 "How now?" said the herb-doctor. 
 
 "You told me to have confidence, said that confi 
 dence was indispensable, and here you preach to me 
 distrust. Ah, truth will out !" 
 
 " I told you, you must have confidence, unquestioning 
 confidence, I meant confidence in the genuine medicine, 
 and the genuine wze." 
 
 " But in your absence, buying vials purporting to be 
 yours, it seems I cannot have unquestioning confi 
 dence." 
 
 " Prove all the vials ; trust those which are true." 
 
 " But to doubt, to suspect, to prove to have all this 
 
A SICK MAN, ETC. 127 
 
 wearing work to be doing continually how opposed to 
 confidence. It is evil !" 
 
 " From evil comes good. Distrust is a stage to 
 confidence. How has it proved in our interview? But 
 your voice is husky ; I have let you talk too much. 
 You hold your cure ; I leave you. But stay when I 
 hear that health is yours, I will not, like some I know, 
 vainly make boasts ; but, giving glory where all glory is 
 due, say, with the devout herb-doctor, Japus in Virgil, 
 when, in the unseen but efficacious presence of Venus, 
 he with simples healed the wound of -ZEneas : 
 
 * This is 110 mortal work, no cure of mine, 
 Nor art's effect, but done by power divine.' " 
 
CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 TOWARDS THE END OP WHICH THE HERB-DOCTOR PROVES HIMSELF A 
 FORGIVER OP INJURIES. 
 
 IN a kind of ante-cabin, a number of respectable look 
 ing people, male and female, way-passengers, recently 
 come on board, are listlessly sitting in a mutually shy 
 sort of silence. 
 
 Holding up a small, square bottle, ovally labeled 
 with the engraving of a countenance full of soft pity as 
 that of the Romish-painted Madonna, the herb-doctor 
 passes slowly among them, benignly urbane, turning 
 this way and that, saying : 
 
 " Ladies and gentlemen, I hold in my hand here the 
 Samaritan Pain Dissuader, thrice-blessed discovery of 
 that disinterested friend of humanity whose portrait 
 you see. Pure vegetable extract. Warranted to re 
 move the acutest pain within less than ten minutes. 
 Five hundred dollars to be forfeited on failure. Espe 
 cially efficacious in heart disease and tic-douloureux. 
 Observe the expression of this pledged friend of hu 
 manity. Price only fifty cents." 
 
 In vain. After the first idle stare, his auditors in 
 pretty good health, it seemed instead of encouraging 
 
THE HERB^DOCTOR. 129 
 
 his politeness, appeared, if anything, impatient of it; 
 and, perhaps, only diffidence, or some small regard for 
 his feelings, prevented them from telling him so. But, 
 insensible to their coldness, or charitably, overlooking it, 
 he more wooingly than ever resumed : " May I ven 
 ture upon a small supposition? Have I your kind 
 leave, ladies and gentlemen ?" 
 
 To which modest appeal, no one had the kindness to 
 answer a syllable. 
 
 " Well," said he, resignedly, " silence is at least not 
 denial, and may be consent. My supposition is this : 
 possibly some lady, here present, has a dear friend at 
 home, a bed-ridden sufferer from spinal complaint. If 
 so, what gift more appropriate to that sufferer than this 
 tasteful little bottle of Pain Dissuader ?" 
 
 Again he glanced about him, but met much the same 
 reception as before. Those faces, alien alike to sympa 
 thy or surprise, seemed patiently to say, " We are trav 
 elers ; and, as such, must expect to meet, and quietly 
 put up with, many antic fools, and more antic quacks." 
 
 "Ladies and gentlemen," (deferentially fixing his eyes 
 upon their now self-complacent faces) ladies and gentle 
 men, might I, by your kind leave, venture upon one 
 other small supposition ? It is this : that there is scarce 
 a sufferer, this noonday, writhing on his bed, but in his 
 hour he sat satisfactorily healthy and happy ; that the 
 Samaritan Pain Dissuader is the one only balm for 
 that to which each living creature who knows ? may 
 be a draughted victim, present or prospective. In 
 short : Oh, Happiness on my right hand, and oh, Se- 
 
130 THE CONFIDENCE- MAN. 
 
 curity on my left, can ye wisely adore a Providence, 
 and not think it wisdom to provide? Provide !" (Up 
 lifting the bottle.) 
 
 What immediate effect, if any, this appeal might have 
 had, is uncertain. For just then the boat touched at a 
 houseless landing, scooped, as by a land-slide, out of 
 sombre forests; back through which led a road, the 
 sole one, which, from its narrowness, and its being 
 walled up with story on story of dusk, matted foliage, 
 presented the vista of some cavernous old gorge in a 
 city, like haunted Cock Lane in London. Issuing from 
 that road, and crossing that landing, there stooped his 
 shaggy form in the door-way, and entered the ante- 
 cabin, with a step so burdensome that shot seemed in his 
 pockets, a kind of invalid Titan in homespun ; his beard 
 blackly pendant, like the Carolina-moss, and dank with 
 cypress dew ; his countenance tawny and shadowy as 
 an iron-ore country in a clouded day. In one hand he 
 carried a heavy walking-stick of swamp-oak ; with the 
 other, led a puny girl, walking in moccasins, not im 
 probably his child, but evidently of alien maternity, 
 perhaps Creole, or even Camanche. Her eye would 
 have been large for a woman, and was inky as the pools 
 of falls among mountain-pines. An Indian blanket, 
 orange-hued, and fringed with lead tassel- work, ap 
 peared that morning to have shielded the child from 
 heavy showers. Her limbs were tremulous ; she seemed 
 a little Cassandra, in nervousness. 
 
 No sooner was the pair spied by the herb-doctor, than 
 with a cheerful air, both arms extended like a host's, he 
 
THE HERB-DOCTOR. 131 
 
 advanced,' and taking the child's reluctant hand, said, 
 trippingly : " On your travels, ah, my little May Queen? 
 Glad to see you. What pretty moccasins. Nice to 
 dance in." Then with a half caper sang 
 
 " ' Hey diddle, diddle, the cat and the fiddle ; 
 The cow jumped over the moon.' 
 
 Come, chirrup, chirrup, my little robin !" 
 
 Which playful welcome drew no responsive playful 
 ness from the child, nor appeared to gladden or concili 
 ate the father ; but rather, if anything, to dash the dead 
 weight of his heavy-hearted expression with a smile 
 hypoehondriacally scornful. 
 
 Sobering down now, the herb-doctor addressed the 
 stranger in a manly, business-like way a transition, 
 which, though it might seem a little abrupt, did not 
 appear constrained, and, indeed, served to show that his 
 recent levity was less the habit of a frivolous nature, 
 than the frolic condescension of a kindly heart. 
 
 " Excuse me," said he, " but, if I err not, I was speak 
 ing to you the other day ; on a Kentucky boat, wasn't 
 it?" 
 
 " Never to me," was the reply ; the voice deep and 
 lonesome enough to have come from the bottom of an 
 abandoned coal-shaft. 
 
 " Ah ! But am I again mistaken, (his eye falling on 
 the swamp-oak stick,) or don't you go a little lame, 
 sir?" 
 
 " Never was lame in my life." 
 
 " Indeed? I fancied I had perceived not a limp, but 
 
132 THE CONFIDENCE- MAN. 
 
 a hitch, a slight hitch ; some experience in these 
 things divined some hidden cause of the hitch buried 
 bullet, may be some dragoons in the Mexican war dis 
 charged with such, you know. Hard fate !" he sighed, 
 " little pity for it, for who sees it? have you dropped 
 anything ?" 
 
 Why, there is no telling, but the stranger was bowed 
 over, and might have seemed bowing for the purpose of 
 picking up something, were it not that, as arrested 
 in the imperfect posture, he for the moment so re 
 mained ; slanting his tall stature like a mainmast yield 
 ing to the gale, or Adam to the thunder. 
 
 The little child pulled him. With a kind of a surge 
 he righted himself, for an instant looked toward the 
 herb-doctor ; but, either from emotion or aversion, or 
 both together, withdrew his eyes, saying nothing. Pres 
 ently, still stooping, he seated himself, drawing his child 
 between his knees, his massy hands tremulous, and still 
 averting his face, while up into the compassionate one 
 of the herb-doctor the child turned a fixed, melancholy 
 glance of repugnance. 
 
 The herb-doctor stood observant a moment, then 
 said : 
 
 "Surely you have pain, strong pain, somewhere ; in 
 strong frames pain is strongest. Try, now, my speci 
 fic," (holding it up). " Do but look at the expression 
 of this friend of humanity. Trust me, certain cure for 
 any pain in the world. Won't you look ?" 
 
 " No," choked the other. 
 
 " Very good. Merry time to you, little May Queen." 
 
THE HERB-DOCTOR. 133 
 
 And so, as if he would intrude his cure upon no one, 
 moved pleasantly off, again crying his wares, nor now 
 at last without result. A new-comer, not from the 
 shore, but another part of the boat, a sickly young 
 Bian, after some questions, purchased a bottle. Upon 
 this, others of the company began a little to wake up 
 as it were ; the scales of indifference or prejudice fell 
 from their eyes ; now, at last, they seemed to have an 
 inkling that here was something not undesirable which 
 might be had for the buying. 
 
 But while, ten times more briskly bland than ever, 
 the herb-doctor was driving his benevolent trade, ac 
 companying each sale with added praises of the thing 
 traded, all at once the dusk giant, seated at some dis 
 tance, unexpectedly raised his voice with 
 
 " What was that you last said?" 
 
 The question was put distinctly, yet resonantly, as 
 when a great clock-bell stunning admonisher strikes 
 one ; and the stroke, though single, comes bedded in 
 the belfry clamor. 
 
 All proceedings were suspended. Hands held forth 
 for the specific were withdrawn, while every eye turned 
 towards the direction whence the question came. But, 
 no way abashed, the herb-doctor, elevating his voice 
 with even more than wonted self-possession, replied 
 
 "I was saying what, since you wish it, I cheerfully 
 repeat, that the Samaritan Pain Dissuader, which I here 
 hold in my hand, will either cure or ease any pain 
 you please, within ten minutes after its application." 
 
 "Does it produce insensibility?" 
 
134 THE CONFIDENCE- MAN. 
 
 " By no means. Not the least of its merits is, that 
 it is not an opiate. It kills pain without killing 
 feeling." 
 
 " You lie ! Some pains cannot be eased but by pro 
 ducing insensibility, and cannot be cured but by pro 
 ducing death." 
 
 Beyond this the dusk giant said nothing ; neither, for 
 impairing the other's market, did there appear much 
 need to. After eying the rude speaker a moment with 
 an expression of mingled admiration and consternation, 
 the company silently exchanged glances of mutual sym 
 pathy under unwelcome conviction. Those who had 
 purchased looked sheepish or ashamed ; and a cynical- 
 looking little man, with a thin flaggy beard, and a 
 countenance ever wearing the rudiments of a grin, 
 seated alone in a corner commanding a good view of 
 the scene, held a rusty hat before his face. 
 
 But, again, the herb-doctor, without noticing the re 
 tort, overbearing though it was, began his panegyrics 
 anew, and in a tone more assured than before, going so 
 far now as to say that his specific was sometimes al 
 most as effective in cases of mental suffering as in cases 
 of physical ; or rather, to be more precise, in cases 
 when, through sympathy, the two sorts of pain coope 
 rated into a climax of both in such cases, he said, the 
 specific" had done very well. He cited an example : 
 Only three bottles, faithfully taken, cured a Louisiana 
 widow (for three weeks sleepless in a darkened cham 
 ber) of neuralgic sorrow for the loss of husband and 
 child, swept off in one night by the last epidemic. For 
 
THE HERB-DOCTOR. 135 
 
 the truth of this, a printed voucher was produced, duly 
 signed. 
 
 While he was reading it aloud, a sudden side-blow 
 all but felled him. 
 
 It was the giant, who, with a countenance lividly 
 epileptic with hypochondriac mania, exclaimed 
 
 " Profane fiddler on heart-strings ! Snake !" 
 
 More he would have added, but, convulsed, could 
 not ; so, without another word, taking up the child, 
 who had followed him, went with a rocking pace out of 
 the cabin. 
 
 "Regardless of decency, and lost to humanity!" 
 exclaimed the herb-doctor, with much ado recovering 
 himself. Then, after a pause, during which he exam 
 ined his bruise, not omitting to apply externally a lit 
 tle of his specific, and with some success, as it would 
 seem, plained to himself: 
 
 " No, no, I won't seek redress ; innocence is my re 
 dress. But," turning upon them all, "if that man's 
 wrathful blow provokes me to no wrath, should his evil 
 distrust arouse you to distrust ? I do devoutly hope," 
 proudly raising voice and arm, " for the honor of 
 humanity hope that, despite this coward assault, the 
 Samaritan Pain Dissuader stands unshaken in the confi 
 dence of all who hear me !" 
 
 But, injured as he was, and patient under it, too, 
 somehow his case excited as little compassion as his 
 oratory now did enthusiasm. Still, pathetic to the last, 
 he continued his. appeals, notwithstanding the frigid 
 regard of the company, till, suddenly interrupting him- 
 
136 THE CONFIDENCE- MAN. 
 
 self, as if in reply to a quick summons from without, he 
 said hurriedly, "I come, I come," and so, with every 
 token of precipitate dispatch, out of the cabin the 
 herb-doctor went. 
 
CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 INQUEST INTO THE TRUE CHARACTER OF THE HERB-DOCTOR. 
 
 " SHA'N'T see that fellow again in a hurry," remarked 
 an auburn-haired gentleman, to his neighbor with a hook 
 nose. " Never knew an operator so completely un 
 masked." 
 
 "But do you think it the fair thing to unmask an 
 operator that way ?" 
 
 "Fair? It is right." 
 
 " Supposing that at high 'change on the Paris Bourse, 
 Asmodeus should lounge in, distributing hand-bills, re 
 vealing the true thoughts and designs of all the opera 
 tors present would that be the fair thing in Asmodeus ? 
 Or, as Hamlet says, were it ' to consider the thing too 
 curiously V " ,.:- 
 
 " We won't go into that. But since you admit the 
 fellow to be a knave " 
 
 " I don't admit it. Or, if I did, I take it back. 
 Shouldn't wonder if, after all, he is no knave at all, or, 
 but little of one. What can you prove against him ?" 
 
 " I can prove that he makes dupes," 
 
 " Many held in honor do the same ; and many, not 
 wholly knaves, do it too." 
 
13S THE CONFIDENCE-MAN. 
 
 " Plow about that last ?" 
 
 " He is not wholly at heart a knave, I fancy, among 
 whose dupes is himself. Did you not see our quack 
 friend apply to himself his own quackery? A fana 
 tic quack ; essentially a fool, though effectively a 
 knave.' 1 
 
 Bending over, and looking down between his knees 
 on the floor, the auburn-haired gentleman meditatively 
 scribbled there awhile with his cane, then, glancing up, 
 said : 
 
 " I can't conceive how you, in any way, can hold 
 him a fool. How he talked so glib, so pat, so 
 well." 
 
 " A smart fool always talks well ; takes a smart fool 
 to be tonguey." 
 
 In much the same strain the discussion continued 
 the hook-nosed gentleman talking at large and excel 
 lently, with a view of demonstrating that a smart fool 
 always talks just so. Ere long he talked to such pur 
 pose as almost to convince. 
 
 Presently, back came the person of whom the auburn- 
 haired gentleman had predicted that he would not 
 return. Conspicuous in the door-way he stood, saying, 
 in a clear voice, " Is the agent of the Seminole Widow 
 and Orphan Asylum within here?" 
 
 No one replied. 
 
 " Is there within here any agent or any member of 
 any charitable institution whatever ?" 
 
 No one seemed competent to answer, or, no one 
 thought it worth while to. 
 
I X Q U E S T . 139 
 
 " If there be within here any such person, I have in 
 my hand two dollars for him." 
 
 Some interest was manifested. 
 
 " I was called away so hurriedly, I forgot this part of 
 my duty. With the proprietor of the Samaritan Pain 
 Dissuader it is a rule, to devote, on the spot, to some 
 benevolent purpose, the half of the proceeds of sales. 
 Eight bottles were disposed of among this company. 
 Hence, four half-dollars remain to charity. Who, as 
 steward, takes the money?" 
 
 One or two pair of feet moved upon the floor, as with 
 a sort of itching ; but nobody rose. 
 
 "Does diffidence prevail over duty? If, I say, there 
 be any gentleman, or any lady, either, here present, who 
 is in any connection with any charitable institution 
 whatever, let him or her come forward. He or she 
 happening to have at hand no certificate of such con 
 nection, makes no difference. Not of a suspicious 
 temper, thank God, I shall have confidence in whoever 
 offers to take the money." 
 
 A demure-looking woman, in a dress rather tawdry 
 and rumpled, here drew her veil well down and rose ; 
 but, marking every eye upon her, thought it advisable, 
 upon the whole, to sit down again. 
 
 " Is it to be believed that, in this Christian company, 
 there is no one charitable person ? I mean, no one con 
 nected with any charity ? Well, then, is there no object 
 of charity here ?" 
 
 Upon this, an unhappy-looking woman, in a sort of 
 mourning, neat, but sadly worn, hid her face behind a 
 
140 THE CONFIDENCE- MAN, 
 
 meagre bundle, and was heard to sob. Meantime, as 
 not seeing or hearing her, the herb-doctor again spoke, 
 and this time not unpathetically : 
 
 "Are there none here who feel in need of help, and 
 who, in accepting such help, would feel that they, in 
 their time, have given or done more than may ever be 
 given or done to them ? Man or woman, is there none 
 such here ?" 
 
 The sobs of the woman were more audible, though 
 she strove to repress them. While nearly every one's 
 attention was bent upon her, a man of the appearance of 
 a day-laborer, with a white bandage across his face, con 
 cealing the side of the nose, and who, for coolness' sake, 
 had been sitting in his red-flannel shirt-sleeves, his coat 
 thrown across one shoulder, the darned cuffs drooping 
 behind this man shufflingly rose, and, with a pace that 
 seemed the lingering memento of the lock-step of con 
 victs, went up for a duly-qualified claimant. 
 
 " Poor wounded huzzar !" sighed the herb-doctor, and 
 dropping the money into the man's clam-shell of a hand 
 turned and departed. 
 
 The recipient of the alms was about moving after, 
 when the auburn-haired gentleman staid him : " Don't 
 be frightened, you; but I want to see those coins. 
 Yes, yes ; good silver, good silver. There, take them 
 again, and while you are about it, go bandage the rest 
 of yourself behind something. D'ye hear? Consider 
 yourself, wholly, the scar of a nose, and be off with 
 yourself." 
 
 Being of a forgiving nature, or else from emotion not 
 
I NQU E S T . 141 
 
 daring to trust his voice, the man silently, but not 
 without some precipitancy, withdrew. 
 
 " Strange," said the auburn-haired gentleman, return 
 ing to his friend, " the money was good money." 
 
 " Aye, and where your fine knavery now ? Knavery 
 to devote the half of one's receipts to charity? He's a 
 fool I say again." 
 
 " Others might call him an original genius." 
 
 "Yes, being original in his folly. Genius? His 
 genius is a cracked pate, and, as this age goes, not 
 much originality about that." 
 
 " May he not be knave, fool, and genius altogether ?" 
 
 " I beg pardon," here said a third person with a gos 
 siping expression who had been listening, " but you are 
 somewhat puzzled by this man, and well you may be." 
 
 " Do you know anything about him ?" asked 'the 
 hooked-nosed gentleman. 
 
 " No, but I suspect him for something." 
 
 " Suspicion. We want knowledge." 
 
 " Well, suspect first and know next. True know 
 ledge comes but by suspicion or revelation. That's my 
 maxim." 
 
 " And yet," said the auburn-haired gentleman, since 
 a wise man will keep even some certainties to himself, 
 much more some suspicions, at least he will at all events 
 so do till they ripen into knowledge." 
 
 " Do you hear that about the wise man ?" said the 
 hook-nosed gentleman, turning upon the new comer. 
 " Now what is it you suspect of this fellow ?" 
 
 " I shrewdly suspect him," was the eager response, 
 
142 THE CONFIDENCE- MAN. 
 
 "for one of those Jesuit emissaries prowling all over our 
 country. The better to accomplish their secret designs, 
 they assume, at times, I am told, the most singular 
 masques ; sometimes, in appearance, the absurdest." 
 
 This, though indeed for some reason causing a droll 
 smile upon the face of the hook-nosed gentleman, added 
 a third angle to the discussion, which now became a 
 sort of triangular duel, and ended, at last, with but a 
 triangular result. 
 
CHAPTER XIX. . 
 
 A SOLDIER OF FORTUNE. 
 
 " MEXICO ? Molino del Rey ? Resaca de la Palma ?" 
 
 " Resaca de la Tombs!" 
 
 Leaving his reputation to take care of itself, since, as 
 is not seldom the case, he knew nothing of its being in 
 debate, the herb-doctor, wandering to wardsthe forward 
 part of the boat, had there espied a singular character in a 
 grimy old regimental coat, a countenance at once grim 
 and wizened, interwoven paralyzed legs, stiff as icicles, 
 suspended between rude crutches, while the whole 
 rigid body, like a ship's long barometer on gimbals, 
 swung to and fro, mechanically faithful to the motion 
 of the boat. Looking downward while he swung, the 
 cripple seemed in a brown study. 
 
 As moved by the sight, and conjecturing that here 
 was some battered hero from the Mexican battle-fields, 
 the herb-doctor had sympathetically accosted him as 
 above, and received the above rather dubious reply. As, 
 with a half moody, half surly sort of air that reply was 
 given, the cripple, by a voluntary jerk, nervously increased 
 his "swing (his custom when seized by emotion), so that 
 
144 THE C O N F I D E X C E - M A X . 
 
 one would have thought some squall had suddenly rolled 
 the boat and with it the barometer. 
 
 "Tombs? my friend," exclaimed the herb-doctor in 
 mild surprise. " You have not descended to the dead, 
 have you? I had imagined you a scarred campaigner, 
 one of the noble children of war, for your dear country 
 a glorious sufferer. But you are Lazarus, it seems." 
 
 " Yes, he who had sores." 
 
 "Ah, the other Lazarus. But I never knew that 
 either of them was in the army," glancing at the dilapi 
 dated regimentals. 
 
 " That will do now. Jokes enough." 
 
 "Friend," said the other reproachfully, "you think 
 amiss. On principle, I greet unfortunates with some 
 pleasant remark, the better to call off their thoughts 
 from their troubles. The physician who is at once wise 
 and humane seldom unreservedly sympathizes with his 
 patient. But come, I am a herb-doctor, and also a na 
 tural bone-setter. I may be sanguine, but I think I 
 can do something for you. You look up now. Give me 
 your story. Ere I undertake a cure, I require a full ac 
 count of the case." 
 
 "You can't help me," returned the cripple gruffly. 
 " Go away." 
 
 " You seem sadly destitute of " 
 
 " No I ain't destitute ; to-day, at least, I can pay my 
 way." 
 
 " The Natural Bone-setter is happy, indeed, to hear 
 that. But you were premature. I was deploring your 
 destitution, not of cash, but of confidence. You think 
 
A SOLDIER OF FORTUNE. 145 
 
 the Natural Bone-setter can't help you. Well, suppose 
 he can't, have you any objection to telling him your 
 story. You, my friend, have, in a signal way, experi 
 enced adversity. Tell me, then, for my private good, 
 how, without aid from the noble cripple, Epictetus, you 
 have arrived at his heroic sang-froid in misfortune." 
 
 At these words the cripple fixed upon the speaker the 
 hard ironic eye of one toughened and defiant in misery, 
 and, in the end, grinned upon him with his unshaven face 
 like an ogre. 
 
 " Come, come, be sociable be human, my friend. 
 Don't make that face ; it distresses me." 
 
 " I suppose," with a sneer, "you are the man I've 
 long heard of The Happy Man." 
 
 " Happy? my friend. Yes, at least I ought to be. 
 My conscience is peaceful. I have confidence in every 
 body. I have confidence that, in my humble profession, 
 I do some little good to the world. Yes, I think that, 
 without presumption, I may venture to assent to the 
 proposition that I am the Happy Man the Happy Bone- 
 setter." 
 
 " Then you shall hear my story. Many a month I 
 have longed to get hold of the Happy Man, drill him, 
 drop the powder, and leave him to explode at his 
 leisure." 
 
 " What a demoniac unfortunate,'" exclaimed the herb- 
 doctor retreating. " Regular infernal machine !" 
 
 " Look ye," cried the other, stumping after him, and 
 with his horny hand catching him by a horn button, "my 
 name is Thomas Fry. Until my- " 
 
146 THE CONFIDENCE- MAN. 
 
 "Any relation of Mrs. Fry?" interrupted the other. 
 " I still correspond with that excellent lady on the sub 
 ject of prisons. Tell me, are you anyway connected 
 with my Mrs. Fry ?" 
 
 " Blister Mrs. Fry ! What do them sentimental souls 
 know of prisons or any other black fact ? I'll tell ye 
 a story of prisons. Ha, ha !" 
 
 The herb-doctor shrank, and with reason, the laugh 
 being strangely startling. 
 
 "Positively, my friend," said he, "you must stop 
 that ; I can't stand that ; no more of that. I hope I 
 have the milk of kindness, but your thunder will soon 
 turn it." 
 
 " Hold, I haven't come to the milk-turning part yet. 
 My name is Thomas Fry. Until my twenty-third year 
 I went by the nickname of Happy Tom happy ha, 
 ha ! They called me Happy Tom, d'ye see? because I was 
 so good-natured and laughing all the time, just as I am 
 now ha, ha !" 
 
 Upon this the herb-doctor would, perhaps, have run, 
 but once more the hyaena clawed him. Presently, 
 sobering down, he continued : 
 
 " Well, I was born in New York, and there I lived a 
 steady, hard-working man, a cooper by trade. One 
 evening I went to a political meeting in the Park for 
 you must know, I was in those days a great patriot. As 
 bad luck would have it, there was trouble near, between 
 a gentleman who had been drinking wine, and a pavior 
 who was sober. The pavior chewed tobacco, and the 
 gentleman said it was beastly in him, and pushed him, 
 
A SOLDIER OF FORTUNE. 147 
 
 wanting to have his place. The pavior chewed on and 
 pushed back. Well, the gentleman carried a sword- 
 cane, and presently the pavior was down skewer 
 ed." 
 
 " How was that ?" 
 
 " Why you see the pavior undertook something above 
 his strength." 
 
 " The other must have been a Samson then. * Strong 
 as a pavior,' is a proverb." 
 
 u So it is, and the gentleman was in body a rather 
 weakly man, but, for all that, I say again, the pavior 
 undertook something above his strength." 
 
 " What are you talking about? He tried to maintain 
 his rights, didn't he?" 
 
 " Yes ; but, for all that, I say again, he undertook 
 something above his strength." 
 
 " I don't understand you. But go on." 
 
 " Along with the gentleman, I, with other witnesses, 
 was taken to the Tombs. There was an examination, 
 and, to appear at the trial, the gentleman and witnesses 
 all gave bail I mean all but me." 
 
 "And why didn't you?" 
 
 " Couldn't get it." 
 
 " Steady, hard-working cooper like you ; what was 
 the reason you couldn't get bail?" 
 
 " Steady, hard-working cooper hadn't no friends. 
 Well, souse I went into a wet cell, like a canal-boat 
 splashing into the lock ; locked up in pickle, d'ye see ? 
 against the time of the trial." 
 
 " But what had you done?" 
 
148 THE CONFIDENCE-MAN. 
 
 " Why, I hadn't got any friends, I tell ye. A worse 
 crime than murder, as ye'll see afore long." 
 
 " Murder? Did the wounded man die?" 
 
 " Died the third night." 
 
 " Then the gentleman's bail didn't help him. Impris 
 oned now, wasn't he ?" 
 
 " Had too many friends. No, it was I that was 
 imprisoned. But I was going on : They let me walk 
 about the corridor by day ; but at night I must into lock. 
 There the wet and the damp struck into my bones. They 
 doctored me, but no use. When the trial came, I was 
 boosted up and said my say." 
 
 "And what was that?" 
 
 " My say was that I saw the steel go in, and saw it 
 sticking in." 
 
 " And that hung the gentleman." 
 
 " Hung him with a gold chain ! His friends called a 
 meeting in the Park, and presented him with a gold 
 watch and chain upon his acquittal." 
 
 "Acquittal?" 
 
 " Didn't I say he had friends ?" 
 
 There was a pause, broken at last by the herb-doc 
 tor's saying : " Well, there is a bright side to everything. 
 If this speak prosaically for justice, it speaks romantic 
 ally for friendship ! But go on, my fine fellow." 
 
 " My say being said, they told me I might go. I said 
 I could not without help. So the constables helped me, ' 
 asking where would I go? I told them back to the 
 * Tombs.' I knew no other place. ' But where are your 
 friends?' said they. * I have none.' So they put me 
 
A SOLDIER OF FORTUNE. 149 
 
 into a hand-barrow with an awning to it, and wheeled 
 me down to the. dock and on board a boat, and away to 
 Blackwell's Island to the Corporation Hospital. There 
 I got worse got pretty much as you see me now. 
 Couldn't cure me. After three years, I grew sick of 
 lying in a grated iron bed alongside of groaning thieves 
 and mouldering burglars. They gave me five silver dol 
 lars, and these crutches, and I hobbled off. I had an 
 only brother who went to Indiana, years ago. I beg 
 ged about, to make up a sum to go to him ; got to 
 Indiana at last, and they directed me to his grave. It 
 was on a great plain, in a log-church yard with a stump 
 fence, the old gray roots sticking all ways like moose- 
 antlers. The bier, set over the grave, it being the last 
 dug, was of green hickory ; bark on, and green twigs 
 sprouting from it. Some one had planted a bunch of vio 
 lets on the mound, but it was a poor soil (always choose 
 the poorest soils for grave-yards), and they were all dried 
 to tinder. I was going to sit and rest myself on the bier 
 and think about my brother in heaven, but the bier 
 broke down, the legs being only tacked. So, after 
 driving some hogs out of the yard that were rooting 
 there, I came away, and, not to make too long a story 
 of it, here I am, drifting down stream like any other bit 
 of wreck." 
 
 The herb-doctor was silent for a time, buried in 
 thought. At last, raising his head, he said : " I have 
 considered your whole story, my friend, and strove to 
 consider it in the light of a commentary on what I 
 believe to be the system of things ; but it so jars with all, 
 
150 THE CONFIDENCE-MAN. 
 
 is so incompatible with all, that you must pardon me, 
 if I honestly tell you, I cannot believe it." 
 
 " That don't surprise me." 
 
 "How?" 
 
 "Hardly anybody believes my story, and so to most 
 I tell a different one." 
 
 "How, again?" 
 
 " Wait here a bit and I'll show ye." 
 
 With that, taking off his rag of a cap, and arranging 
 his tattered regimentals the best he could, off he went 
 stumping among the passengers in an adjoining part of 
 the deck, saying with a jovial kind of air: "Sir, a 
 shilling for Happy Tom, who fought at Buena Vista. 
 Lady, something for General Scott's soldier, crippled in 
 both pins at glorious Contreras." 
 
 Now, it so chanced that, unbeknown to the cripple, a 
 prim-looking stranger had overheard part of his story. 
 Beholding him, then, on his present begging adventure, 
 this person, turning to the herb-doctor, indignantly said : 
 " Is it not too bad, sir, that yonder rascal should lie 
 so?" 
 
 " Charity never faileth, my good sir," was the reply. 
 " The vice of this unfortunate is pardonable. Consider, 
 he lies not out of wantonness." 
 
 " Not out of wantonness. I never heard more wanton 
 lies. In one breath to tell you what would appear to 
 be his true story, and, in the next, away and falsify it." 
 
 " For all that, I repeat he lies not out of wantonness. 
 A ripe philosopher, turned out of the great Sorbonne of 
 hard times, he thinks that woes, when told to strangers 
 
A SOLDIER OF FORTUNE. 151 
 
 for money, are best sugared. Though the inglorious 
 lock-jaw of his knee-pans in a wet dungeon is a far 
 more pitiable ill than to have been crippled at glorious 
 Contreras, yet he is of opinion that this lighter and 
 false ill shall attract, while the heavier and real one 
 might repel." 
 
 " Nonsense ; he belongs to the Devil's regiment ; and 
 I have a great mind to expose him." 
 
 " Shame upon you. Dare to expose that poor unfor 
 tunate, and by heaven don't you do it, sir." 
 
 Noting something in his manner, the other thought it 
 more prudent to retire than retort. By-and-by, the 
 cripple came back, and with glee, having reaped a pretty 
 good harvest. 
 
 " There," he laughed, " you know now what sort of 
 soldier I am." 
 
 " Aye, one that fights not the stupid Mexican, but a 
 foe worthy your tactics Fortune !" 
 
 " Hi, hi !" clamored the cripple, like a fellow in the 
 pit of a sixpenny theatre, then said, " don't know much 
 what you meant, but it went off well." 
 
 This over, his countenance capriciously put on a 
 morose ogreness. To kindly questions he gave no kind 
 ly answers. Unhandsome notions were thrown out 
 about " free Ameriky," as he sarcastically called his coun 
 try. These seemed to disturb and pain the herb-doctor, 
 who, after an interval of thoughtfulness, gravely address 
 ed him in these words : 
 
 " You, my worthy friend, to my concern, have reflect 
 ed upon the government under which you live and suf- 
 
152 THE CONFIDENCE-MAN. 
 
 fer. Where is your patriotism ? Where your gratitude ? 
 True, the charitable may find something in your case, 
 as you put it, partly to account for such reflections as 
 coming from you. Still, be the facts how they may, 
 your reflections are none the less unwarrantable. Grant, 
 for the moment, that your experiences are as you give 
 them ; in which case I would admit that government 
 might be thought to have more or less to do with what 
 seems undesirable in them. But it is never to be for 
 gotten that human government, being subordinate to the 
 divine, must needs, therefore, in its degree, partake of 
 the characteristics of the divine. That is, while in gene 
 ral efficacious to happiness, the world's law may yet, in 
 some cases, have, to the eye of reason, an unequal ope 
 ration, just as, in the same imperfect view, some ine 
 qualities may appear in the operations of heaven's law ; 
 nevertheless, to one who has a right confidence, final 
 benignity is, in every instance, as sure with the one law 
 as the other. I expound the point at some length, 
 because these are the considerations, my poor fellow, 
 which, weighed as they merit, will enable you to sustain 
 with unimpaired trust the apparent calamities which 
 are yours." 
 
 " What do you talk your hog-latin to me for ?" cried 
 the cripple, who, throughout the address, betrayed the 
 most illiterate obduracy ; and, with an incensed look, 
 anew he swung himself. 
 
 Glancing another way till the spasm passed, the 
 other continued: 
 
 " Charity marvels not that you should be somewhat 
 
A SOLDIER OF FORTUNE. 153 
 
 hard of conviction, my friend, since you, doubtless, 
 believe yourself hardly dealt by; but forget not that 
 those who are loved are chastened." 
 
 " Mustn't chasten them too much, though, and too 
 long, because their skin and heart get hard, and feel 
 neither pain nor tickle." 
 
 " To mere reason, your case looks something pite 
 ous, I grant. But never despond ; many things the 
 choicest yet remain. You breathe this bounteous air, 
 are warmed by this gracious sun, and, though poor and 
 friendless, indeed, nor so agile as in your youth, yet, how 
 sweet to roam, day by day, through the groves, pluck 
 ing the bright mosses and flowers, till forlornness itself 
 becomes a hilarity, and, in your innocent independence, 
 you skip for joy." 
 
 "Fine skipping with these 'ere horse-posts ha ha!" 
 
 " Pardon ; I forgot the crutches. My mind, figuring 
 you after receiving the benefit of my art, overlooked 
 you as you stand before me." 
 
 " Your art ? You call yourself a bone-setter a natu 
 ral bone-setter, do ye? Go, bone-set the crooked world, 
 and then come bone-set crooked me." 
 
 " Truly, my honest friend, I thank you for again recall 
 ing me to my original object. Let me examine you," 
 bending down ; " ah, I see, I see ; much such a case as the 
 negro's. Did you see him ? Oh no, you came aboard 
 since. Well, his case was a little something like yours. 
 I prescribed for him, and I shouldn't wonder at all if, in 
 a very short time, he were able to walk almost as well 
 as myself. Now, have you no confidence in my art ?" 
 
154 THE CONFIDENCE-MAN. 
 
 "Ha, ha!" 
 
 The herb-doctor averted himself; but, the wild laugh 
 dying away, resumed : 
 
 " I will not force confidence on you. Still, I would 
 fain do the friendly thing by you. Here, take this box ; 
 just rub that liniment on the joints night and morn 
 ing. Take it. Nothing to pay. God bless you. Good 
 bye." 
 
 "Stay," pausing in his swing, .not untouched by so 
 unexpected an act ; " stay thank'ee but will this 
 really do me good ? Honor bright, now; will it? Don't 
 deceive a poor fellow," with changed mien and glis 
 tening eye. 
 
 " Try it. Good-bye." 
 
 " Stay, stay ! Sure it will do me good?" 
 
 " Possibly, possibly ; no harm in trying. Good 
 bye." 
 
 " Stay, stay ; give me three more boxes, and here's 
 the money. 
 
 " My friend," returning towards him with a sadly 
 pleased sort of air, "I rejoice in the birth of your confi 
 dence and hopefulness. Believe me that, like your 
 crutches, confidence and hopefulness will long support 
 a man when his own legs will not. Stick to confidence 
 and hopefulness, then, since how mad for the cripple to 
 throw his crutches away. You ask for three more boxes 
 of my liniment. Luckily, I have just that number re 
 maining. Here they are. I sell them at half-a-dollar 
 apiece. But I shall take nothing from you. There ; 
 God bless you again ; good-bye." 
 
A SOLDIER OF FORTUNE. 155 
 
 " Stay," in a convulsed voice, and rocking himself, 
 " stay, stay ! You have made a better man of me. You 
 have borne with me like a good Christian, and talked to 
 me like one, and all that is enough without making me 
 a present of these boxes. Here is the money. I won't 
 take nay. There, there ; and may Almighty goodness 
 go with you." 
 
 As the herb-doctor withdrew, the cripple gradually 
 subsided from his hard rocking into a gentle oscilla 
 tion. It expressed, perhaps, the soothed mood of his 
 reverie. 
 
CHAPTER XX. 
 
 REAPPEARANCE OF ONE "WHO MAY BE REMEMBERED. 
 
 THE herb-doctor had not moved far away, when, in 
 advance of him, this spectacle met his eye. A dried-up 
 old man, with the stature of a boy of twelve, was tot 
 tering about like one out of his mind, in rumpled 
 clothes of old moleskin, showing recent contact with 
 bedding, his ferret eyes, blinking in the sunlight of the 
 snowy boat, as imbecilely eager, and, at intervals, cough 
 ing, he peered hither and thither as if in alarmed search 
 for his nurse. He presented the aspect of one who, 
 bed-rid, has, through overruling excitement, like that of 
 a fire, been stimulated to his feet. 
 
 " You seek some one," said the herb-doctor, accosting 
 him. " Can I assist you ?" 
 
 *' Do, do ; I am so old and miserable," coughed the 
 old man. " Where is he? This long time I've been try 
 ing to get up and find him. But I haven't any friends, 
 and couldn't get up till now. Where is he?" 
 
 " Who do you mean ?" drawing closer, to stay the 
 further wanderings of one so weakly. 
 
 " Why, why, why," now marking the other's dress, 
 " why you, yes you you, you ugh, ugh, ugh !" 
 
REAPPEARANCE. 157 
 
 "I?" 
 
 " Ugh, ugh, Tigh! you are the man he spoke of. 
 Who is he ?" 
 
 " Faith, that is just what I want to know." 
 
 "Mercy, mercy!" coughed the old man, bewildered, 
 11 ever since seeing him, my head spins round so. I 
 ought to have a guardian. Is this a snuff-colored sur- 
 tout of yours, or ain't it ? Somehow, can't trust my 
 senses any more, since trusting him ugh, ugh, ugh !" 
 
 " Oh, you have trusted somebody ? Glad to hear it. 
 Glad to hear of any instance of that sort. Reflects \vell 
 upon all men. But you inquire whether this is a snuff- 
 colored surtout. I answer it is ; and will add that a 
 herb-doctor wears it." 
 
 Upon this the old man, in his broken way, replied 
 that then he (the herb-doctor) was the person he 
 sought the person spoken of by the other person as 
 yet unknown. He then, with nighty eagerness, wanted 
 to know who this last person was, and where he was, 
 and whether he could be trusted with money to treble it. 
 
 " Aye, now, I begin to understand; ten to one you 
 mean my worthy friend, who, in pure goodness of heart, 
 makes people's fortunes for them their everlasting for 
 tunes, as the phrase goes only charging his one small 
 commission of confidence. Aye, aye; before intrusting 
 funds with my friend, you want to know about him. 
 Very proper and, I am glad to assure you, you need 
 have no hesitation; none, none, just none in the world ; 
 bona fide, none. Turned me in a trice a hundred dollars 
 the other day into as many eagles."' 
 
158 THE CONFIDENCE- MAN. 
 
 "Did he? did he? But where is he? Take me to 
 him." 
 
 " Pray, take my arm ! The boat is large ! We may 
 have something of a hunt ! Come on ! Ah, is that he ?" 
 
 " Where? where?" 
 
 " 0, no ; I took yonder coat-skirts for his. But no, 
 my honest friend would never turn tail that way. 
 Ah ! " 
 
 "Where? where?" 
 
 " Another mistake. Surprising resemblance. I took 
 yonder clergyman for him. Come on !" 
 
 Having searched that part of the boat without success, 
 they went to another part, and, while exploring that, 
 the boat sided up to a landing, when, as the two were 
 passing by the open guard, the herb-doctor suddenly 
 rushed towards the disembarking throng, crying out : 
 " Mr. Truman, Mr. Truman ! There he goes that's he. 
 Mr. Truman, Mr. Truman ! Confound that steam-pipe. 
 Mr. Truman ! for God's sake, Mr. Truman ! No, no. 
 There, the plank's in too late we're off." 
 
 With that, the huge boat, with a mighty, walrus 
 wallow, rolled away from the shore, resuming her 
 course. 
 
 " How vexatious !" exclaimed the herb-doctor, return 
 ing. "Had we been but one single moment sooner. 
 There he goes, now, towards yon hotel, his portmanteau 
 following. You see him, don't you?" 
 
 "Where? where?" 
 
 " Can't see him any more. Wheel-house shot be 
 tween. I am very sorry. I should have so liked you 
 
REAPPEARANCE . 159 
 
 to have let him have a hundred or so of your money. 
 You would have been pleased with the investment, be 
 lieve me." 
 
 " Oh, I have let him have some of my money," 
 groaned the old man. 
 
 " You have ? My dear sir," seizing both the miser's 
 hands in both his own and heartily shaking them. " My 
 dear sir, how I congratulate you. You don't know." 
 
 " Ugh, ugh ! I fear I don't," with another groan. 
 His name is Truman, is it ?" 
 
 " John Truman." 
 
 "Where does he live?" 
 
 "In St. Louis." 
 
 " Where's his office ?" 
 
 "Let me see. Jones street, number one hundred 
 and no, no anyway, it's somewhere or other up-stairs 
 in Jones street." 
 
 " Can't you remember the number? Try, now." 
 
 " One hundred two hundred three hundred " 
 
 " Oh, my hundred dollars ! I wonder whether it will 
 be one hundred, two hundred, three hundred, with 
 them ! Ugh, ugh ! Can't remember the number?" 
 
 "Positively, though I once knew, I have forgotten, 
 quite forgotten it. Strange, But never mind. You 
 will easily learn in St. Louis. He is well known 
 there." 
 
 "But I have no receipt ugh, ugh! Nothing to 
 show don't know where I stand ought to have a 
 guardeean ugh, ugh ! Don't know anything. Ugh, 
 ugh!" 
 
160 THE CONFIDENCE-MAN. 
 
 4< Why, you know that you gave him your confidence, 
 don't you?" 
 
 " Oh, yes." 
 
 "Well, then?" 
 
 " But what, what how, how ugh, ugh !" 
 
 "Why, didn't he tell you?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 " What ! Didn't he tell you that it was a secret, a 
 mystery ?" 
 
 " Oh yes." 
 
 "Well, then?" 
 
 "But I have no bond." 
 
 " Don't need any with Mr. Truman. Mr. Truman's 
 word is his bond." 
 
 "But how am I to get my profits ugh, ugh ! and 
 my money back ? Don't know anything. Ugh, ugh !" 
 
 " Oh, you must have confidence." 
 
 " Don't say that Word again. Makes my head spin 
 so. Oh, I'm so old and miserable, nobody caring for 
 me, everybody fleecing me, and my head spins so ugh, 
 ugh ! and this cough racks me so. I say again, I ought 
 to have a guardeean." 
 
 " So you ought ; and Mr. Truman is your guardian to 
 the extent you invested with him. Sorry we missed 
 him just now. But you'll hear from him. ATI right. 
 It's imprudent, though, to expose yourself this way. 
 Let me take you to your berth." 
 
 Forlornly enough the old miser moved slowly away 
 with him. But, while descending a stairway, he was 
 seized with such coughing that he was fain to pause. 
 
REAPPEARANCE. 161 
 
 " That is a very bad cough." 
 
 " Church-yard ugh, ugh ! church-yard cough. 
 Ugh !" 
 
 " Have you tried anything for it?" 
 
 44 Tired of trying. Nothing does me any good ugh ! 
 ugh ! Not even the Mammoth Cave. Ugh ! ugh ! 
 Denned there six months, but coughed so bad the rest 
 of the coughers ugh ! ugh ! black-balled me out. 
 Ugh, ugh ! Nothing does me good." 
 
 "But have you tried the Omni-Balsamic Reinvigorator, 
 sir?" 
 
 " That's what that Truman ugh, ugh! said I 
 ought to take. Yarb-medicine; you are that yarb-doc- 
 tor, too ?" 
 
 " The same. Suppose you try one of my boxes now. 
 Trust me, from what I know of Mr. Truman, he is not 
 the gentleman to recommend, even in behalf of a friend, 
 anything of whose excellence he is not conscientiously 
 satisfied." 
 
 "Ugh! how much?" 
 
 "Only two dollars a box." 
 
 "Two dollars? Why don't you say two millions? 
 ugh, ugh ! Two dollars, that's two hundred cents ; 
 that's eight hundred farthings ; that's two thousand 
 mills ; and all for one little box of yarb-medicine. My 
 head, my head ! oh, I ought to have a guardeean for 
 my head. Ugh, ugh, ugh, ugh!" 
 
 " Well, if two dollars a box seems too much, take a 
 dozen boxes at twenty dollars ; and that will be getting 
 four boxes for nothing, and you need use none but those 
 
162 THE CONFIDENCE-MAN. 
 
 four, the rest you can retail out at a premium, and so 
 cure your cough, and make money by it. Come, you 
 had better do it. Cash down. Can fill an order in a 
 day or two. Here now," producing a box ; " pure 
 herbs." 
 
 At that moment, seized with another spasm, the miser 
 snatched each interval to fix his half distrustful, half 
 hopeful eye upon the medicine, held alluringly up. 
 " Sure ugh! Sure it's all nat'ral ? Nothing but 
 yarbs? If I only thought it was a purely nat'ral medi 
 cine now all yarbs ugh, ugh ! oh this cough, this 
 cough ugh, ugh ! shatters my whole body. Ugh, 
 ugh, ugh!" 
 
 " For heaven's sake try my medicine, if but a single 
 box. That it is pure nature you may be confident. 
 Refer you to Mr. Truman." 
 
 " Don't know his number ugh, ugh, ugh, ugh ! Oh 
 this cough. He did speak well of this medicine though ; 
 said solemnly it would cure me ugh, ugh, ugh, ugh! 
 take off a dollar and I'll have a box." 
 
 " Can't sir, can't." 
 
 " Say a dollar-and-half. Ugh !" 
 
 " Can't. Am pledged to the one-price system, only 
 honorable one." 
 
 " Take off a shilling ugh, ugh !" 
 
 " Can't." 
 
 "Ugh, ugh, ugh I'll take it.- There." 
 
 Grudgingly he handed eight silver coins, but while 
 still in his hand, his cough took him, and they were 
 shaken upon the deck. 
 
REAPPEARANCE. 163 
 
 One by one, the herb-doctor picked them up, and, 
 examining them, said: ''These are not quarters, these 
 are pistareens ; and clipped, and sweated, at that." 
 
 " Oh don't be so miserly ugh, ugh ! better a beast 
 than a miser ugh, ugh !" 
 
 " Well, let it go. Anything rather than the idea of 
 your not being cured of such a cough. And I hope, for 
 the credit of humanity, you have not made it appear 
 worse than it is, merely with a view to working upon 
 the weak point of my pity, and so getting my medicine 
 the cheaper. Now, mind, don't take it till night. Just 
 before retiring is the time. There, you can get along 
 now, can't you ? I would attend you further, but I land 
 presently, and must go hunt up my luggage." 
 
CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 A HARD CASE. 
 
 " YARBS, yarbs ; natur, natur ; you foolish old file 
 youl He diddled you with that hocus-pocus, did he? 
 Yarbs and natur will cure your incurable cough, you 
 think." 
 
 It was a rather eccentric-looking person who spoke ; 
 somewhat ursine in aspect ; sporting a shaggy spencer 
 of the cloth called bear's-skin ; a high-peaked cap of rac 
 coon-skin, the long bushy tail switching over behind ; 
 raw-hide leggings ; grim stubble chin ; and to end, a 
 double-barreled gun in hand a Missouri bachelor, a 
 Hoosier gentleman, of Spartan leisure and fortune, and 
 equally Spartan manners and sentiments ; and, as the 
 sequel may show, not less acquainted, in a Spartan way 
 of his own, with philosophy and books, than with wood 
 craft and rifles. 
 
 He must have overheard some of the talk between the 
 miser and the herb-doctor; for, just after the withdraw 
 al of the one, he made up to the other now at the foot 
 of the stairs leaning against the baluster there with the 
 greeting above. 
 
 ** Think it will cure me ?" coughed the miser in echo ; 
 
A HARD CASE. 165 
 
 "why shouldn't it? The medicine is nat'ral yarbs, 
 pure yarbs; yarbs must cure me." 
 
 " Because a thing is nat'ral, as you call it, you think 
 it must be good. But who gave you that cough ? Was 
 it, or was it not, nature ?" 
 
 " Sure, you don't think that natur, Dame Natur, will 
 hurt a body, do you ?" 
 
 "Natur is good Queen Bess; but who's responsible 
 for the cholera?" 
 
 " But yarbs, yarbs ; yarbs are good ?" 
 
 " What's deadly-nightshade ? Yarb, ain't it ?" 
 
 " Oh, that a Christian man should speak agin natur 
 and yarbs ugh, ugh, ugh ! ain't sick men sent out into 
 the country ; sent out to natur and grass?" 
 
 " Aye, and poets send out the sick spirit to green 
 pastures, like lame horses turned out unshod to the turf 
 to renew their hoofs. A sort of yarb-doctors in their 
 way, poets have it that for sore hearts, as for sore lungs, 
 nature is the grand cure. But who froze to death my 
 teamster on the prairie ? And who made an idiot of 
 Peter the Wild Boy ?" 
 
 " Then you don't believe in these 'ere yarb-doctors?" 
 
 " Yarb-doctors ? I remember the lank yarb-doctor 
 I saw once on a hospital-cot in Mobile. One of the 
 faculty passing round and seeing w r ho lay there, said 
 with professional triumph, " Ah, Dr. Green, your yarbs 
 don't help ye now, Dr. Green. Have to come to us and 
 the mercury now, Dr. Green. Natur ! Y-a-r-b-s !" 
 
 " Did I hear something about herbs and herb-doctors ?" 
 here said a flute-like voice, advancing. 
 
166 THE CONFIDENCE- MAN. 
 
 It was the herb-doctor in person. Carpet-bag in 
 hand, he happened to be strolling back that way. 
 
 " Pardon me," addressing the Missourian, " but if I 
 caught your words aright, you would seem to have little 
 confidence in nature ; which, really, in my way of 
 thinking, looks like carrying the spirit of distrust pretty 
 far." 
 
 " And who of my sublime species may you be ?" 
 turning short round upon him, clicking his rifle-lock, 
 with an air which would have seemed half cynic, half 
 wild-cat, were it not for the grotesque excess of the ex 
 pression, which made its sincerity appear more or less 
 dubious. 
 
 " One who has confidence in nature, and confidence 
 in man, with some little modest confidence in himself." 
 
 " That's your Confession of Faith, is it ? Confidence 
 in man, eh? Pray, Which do you think are most, 
 knaves or fools?" 
 
 " Having met with few or none of either, I hardly 
 think I am competent to answer." 
 
 " I will answer for you. Fools are most." 
 
 " Why do you think so ?" 
 
 " For the same reason that I think oats are numeri 
 cally more than horses. Don't knaves munch up fools 
 just as horses do oats ?" 
 
 " A droll, sir ; you are a droll. I can appreciate 
 drollery ha, ha, ha!" 
 
 "But I'm in earnest." 
 
 " That's the drollery, to deliver droll extravagance 
 with an earnest air knaves munching up fools as horses 
 
AHARDCASE. 167 
 
 oats. Faith, very droll, indeed, ha, ha, ha! Yes, I 
 think I understand you now, sir. How silly I was to 
 have taken you seriously, in your droll conceits, too, 
 about having no confidence in nature. In reality you 
 have just as much as I have." 
 
 " I have confidence in nature ? I? I say again there 
 is nothing I am more suspicious of. I once lost ten 
 thousand dollars by nature. Nature embezzled that 
 amount from me ; absconded with ten thousand dollars' 
 worth of my property ; a plantation on this stream, 
 swept clean away by one of those sudden shiftings of 
 the banks in a freshet ; ten thousand dollars' worth of 
 alluvion thrown broad off upon the waters." 
 
 "But have you no confidence that by a reverse shift 
 ing that soil will come back after many days ? ah, here 
 is my venerable friend," observing the old miser, " not 
 in your berth yet? Pray, if you will keep afoot, don't 
 lean against that baluster ; take my arm." 
 
 It was taken ; and the two stood together ; the old 
 miser leaning against the herb-doctor with something of 
 that air of trustful fraternity with which, when standing, 
 the less strong of the Siamese twins habitually leans 
 against the other. 
 
 The Missourian eyed them in silence, which was 
 broken by the herb-doctor. 
 
 " You look surprised, sir. Is it because I publicly 
 take under my protection a figure like this ? But I am 
 never ashamed of honesty, whatever his coat." 
 
 " Look you," said the Missourian, after a scrutinizing 
 pause, " you are a queer sort of chap. Don't know 
 
168 THE CONFIDENCE- MAN. 
 
 exactly what to make of you. Upon the whole though, 
 you somewhat remind me of the last boy I had on my 
 place." 
 
 " Good, trustworthy boy, I hope ?" 
 
 " Oh, very ! I am now started to get me made some 
 kind of machine to do the sort of work which boys are 
 supposed to be fitted for." 
 
 " Then you have passed a veto upon boys ?" 
 
 "And men, too." 
 
 " But, my dear sir, does not that again imply more or 
 less lack of confidence ? (Stand up a little, just a very 
 little, my venerable friend ; you lean rather hard.) No 
 confidence in boys, no confidence in men, no confidence 
 in nature. Pray, sir, who or what may you have confi 
 dence in?" 
 
 " I have confidence in distrust ; more particularly as 
 applied to you and your herbs." 
 
 " Well," with a forbearing smile, "that is frank. But 
 pray, don't forget that when you suspect my herbs you 
 suspect nature." 
 
 " Didn't I say that before ?" 
 
 " Very good. For the argument's sake I will suppose 
 you are in earnest. Now, can you, who suspect nature, 
 deny, that this same nature not only kindly brought you 
 into being, but has faithfully nursed you to your present 
 vigorous and independent condition? Is it not to na 
 ture that you are indebted for that robustness of mind 
 which you so unhandsomely use to her scandal? Pray, 
 is it not to nature that you owe the very eyes by which 
 you criticise her?" 
 
A HARD CASE. 169 
 
 " No ! for the privilege of vision I am indebted to an 
 oculist, who in my tenth year operated upon me in Phila 
 delphia. Nature made me blind and would have kept 
 me so. My oculist counterplotted her." 
 
 " And yet, sir, by your complexion, I judge you live 
 an out-of-door life ; without knowing it, you are 
 partial to nature ; you fly to nature, the universal 
 mother." 
 
 " Very motherly ! Sir, in the passion-fits of nature, 
 I've known birds fly from nature to me, rough as I look ; 
 yes, sir, in a tempest, refuge here," smiting the folds of 
 his bearskin. " Fact, sir. fact. Come, come, Mr. Pala- 
 verer, for all your palavering, did you yourself never 
 shut out nature of a cold, wet night ? Bar her out? 
 Bolt her out ? Lint her out ?" 
 
 " As to that," said the herb-doctor calmly, " much 
 may be said." 
 
 " Say it, then," ruffling all his hairs. " You can't, 
 sir, can't." Then, as in apostrophe: "Look you, na 
 ture ! I don't deny but your clover is sweet, and your 
 dandelions don't roar ; but whose hailstones smashed 
 my windows?" 
 
 " Sir," with unimpaired affability, producing one of 
 his boxes, " I am pained to meet with one who holds 
 nature a dangerous character. Though your manner is 
 refined your voice is rough ; in short, you seem to have 
 a sore throat. In the calumniated name of nature, I 
 present you with this box ; my venerable friend here 
 has a similar one ; but to you, a free gift, sir. Through 
 her regularly-authorized agents, of whom I happen to 
 
 R 
 
170 THE CONFIDENCE- MAN. 
 
 be one, Nature delights in benefiting those who most 
 abuse her. Pray, take it." 
 
 " Away with it ! Don't hold it so near. Ten to one 
 there is a torpedo in it. Such things have been. Edit 
 ors been killed that way. Take it further off, I 
 say." 
 
 " Good heavens ! my dear sir " 
 
 41 1 tell you I want none of your boxes," snapping his 
 rifle. 
 
 " Oh, take it ugh, ugh ! do take it," chimed in the 
 old miser ; " I wish he would give me one for nothing." 
 
 " You find it lonely, eh," turning short round ; " gull 
 ed yourself, you would have a companion." 
 
 "How can he find it lonely," returned the herb-doc 
 tor, " or how desire a companion, when here I stand by 
 him; I, even I, in whom he has trust. For the gulling, 
 tell me, is it humane to talk so to this poor old man ? 
 Granting that his dependence on my medicine is vain, 
 is it kind to deprive him of what, in mere-imagination, 
 if nothing more, may help eke out, with hope, his 
 disease ? For you, if you have no confidence, and, 
 thanks to your native health, can get along without it, 
 so far, at least, as trusting in my medicine goes ; yet, 
 how cruel an argument to use, with this afflicted one 
 here. Is it not for all the world as if some brawny 
 pugilist, aglow in December, should rush in and put 
 out a hospital-fire, because, forsooth, he feeling no need 
 of artificial heat, the shivering patients shall have none ? 
 Put it to your conscience, sir, and you will admit, that, 
 whatever be the nature of this afflicted one's trust, you, 
 
AHARDCASE. 171 
 
 in opposing it, evince either an erring head or a heart 
 amiss. Come, own, are you not pitiless ?" 
 
 " Yes, poor soul," said the Missourian, gravely eying 
 the old man " yes, it is pitiless in one like me to 
 speak too honestly to one like you. You are a late 
 sitter-up in this life ; past man's usual bed-time ; and 
 truth, though with some it makes a wholesome break 
 fast, proves to all a supper too hearty. Hearty food, 
 taken late, gives bad dreams." 
 
 " What, in wonder's name ugh, ugh ! is he talking 
 about ?" asked the old miser, looking up to the herb- 
 doctor. 
 
 " Heaven be praised for that !" cried the Missourian. 
 
 " Out of his mind, ain't he ?" again appealed the old 
 miser. 
 
 " Pray, sir," said the herb-doctor to the Missourian, 
 " for what were you giving thanks just now ?" 
 
 "For this : that, with some minds, truth is, in effect, 
 not so cruel a thing after all, seeing that, like a load 
 ed pistol found by poor devils of savages, it raises 
 more wonder than terror its peculiar virtue being un- 
 guessed, unless, indeed, by indiscreet handling, it should 
 happen to go off of itself." 
 
 " I pretend not to divine your meaning there," said 
 the herb-doctor, after a pause, during which he eyed the 
 Missourian with a kind of pinched expression, mixed of 
 pain and curiosity, as if he grieved at his state of mind, 
 and, at the same time, wondered what had brought him 
 to it, " but this much I know," he added, " that the 
 general cast of your thoughts is, to say the least, unfor- 
 
172 THE CONFIDENCE-MAN. 
 
 tunate. There is strength in them, but a strength, 
 whose source, being physical, must wither. You will 
 yet recant." 
 
 " Recant ?" 
 
 " Yes, when, as with this old man, your evil days of 
 decay come on, when a hoary captive in your chamber, 
 then will you, something like the dungeoned Italian we 
 read of, gladly seek the breast of that confidence begot in 
 the tender time of your youth, blessed beyond telling 
 if it return to you in age." 
 
 " Go back to nurse again, eh ? Second childhood, 
 indeed. You are soft." 
 
 "Mercy, mercy !" cried the old miser, " what is all 
 this! ugh, ugh! Do talk sense, my good friends. 
 Ain't you," to the Missourian, " going to buy some of 
 that medicine ?" 
 
 " Pray, my venerable friend," said the herb-doctor, 
 now trying to straighten himself, " don't lean quite so 
 hard ; my arm grows numb ; abate a little, just a very 
 little." 
 
 " Go," said the Missourian, " go lay down in your 
 grave, old man, if you can't stand of yourself. It's a 
 hard world for a leaner." 
 
 " As to his grave," said the herb-doctor, " that is far 
 enough off, so he but faithfully take my medicine." 
 
 " Ugh, ugh, ugh ! He says true. No, I ain't ugh ! 
 a going to die yet ugh, ugh, ugh ! Many years to live 
 yet, ugh, ugh, ugh !" 
 
 " I approve your confidence," said the herb-doc 
 tor ; " but your coughing distresses me, besides being 
 
A HARD CASE. 173 
 
 injurious to you. Pray, let me conduct you to your 
 berth. You are best there. Our friend here will wait 
 till my return, I know." 
 
 With which he led the old miser away, and then, 
 coming back, the talk with the Missourian was 
 resumed. 
 
 " Sir," said the herb-doctor, with some dignity and 
 more feeling, " now that our infirm friend is withdrawn, 
 allow me, to the full, to express my concern at the 
 words you allowed to escape you in his hearing. Some 
 of those words, if I err not, besides being calculated to 
 beget deplorable distrust in the patient, seemed fitted to 
 convey unpleasant imputations against me, his phy 
 sician." 
 
 " Suppose they did ?" with a menacing air. 
 
 "Why. then then, indeed," respectfully retreating, 
 " I fall back upon my previous theory of your general 
 facetiousness. I have the fortune to be in company with 
 a humorist a wag." 
 
 " Fall back you had better, and wag it is," cried the 
 Missourian, following him up, and wagging his raccoon 
 tail almost into the herb-doctor's face, " look you !" 
 
 " At what ?" 
 
 " At this coon. Can you, the fox, catch him ?" 
 
 " If you mean," returned the other, not unselfpos- 
 sessed, " whether I flatter myself that I can in any way 
 dupe you, o-r impose upon you, or pass myself off upon 
 you for what I am not, I, as an honest man, answer that 
 I have neither the inclination nor the power to do aught 
 of the kind." 
 
174 THE CONFIDENCE-MAN. 
 
 " Honest man ? Seems to me you talk more like a 
 craven." 
 
 " You in vain seek to pick a quarrel with me, or put 
 any affront upon me. The innocence in me heals me." 
 
 " A healing like your own nostrums. But you are a 
 queer man a very queer and dubious man ; upon the 
 whole, about the most so I ever met." 
 
 The scrutiny accompanying this seemed unwelcome 
 to the diffidence of the herb-doctor. As if at once to 
 attest the absence of resentment, as well as to change 
 the subject, he threw a kind of familiar cordiality into 
 his air, and said : " So you are going to get some ma 
 chine made to do your work ? Philanthropic scruples, 
 doubtless, forbid your going as far as New Orleans for 
 slaves?" 
 
 "Slaves?" morose again in a twinkling, " won't have 
 'em ! Bad enough to see whites ducking and grinning 
 round for a favor, without having those poor devils of 
 niggers congeeing round for their corn. Though, to me, 
 the niggers are the freer of the two. You are an aboli 
 tionist, ain't you ?" he added, squaring himself with 
 both hands on his rifle, used for a staff, and gazing in 
 the herb-doctor's face with no more reverence than if it 
 were a target. " You are an abolitionist, ain't you?" 
 
 " As to that, I cannot so readily answer. If by abo 
 litionist you mean a zealot, I am none ; but if you mean 
 a man, who, being a man, feels for all men, slaves in 
 cluded, and by any lawful act, opposed to nobody's 
 interest, and therefore, rousing nobody's enmity, would 
 willingly abolish suffering (supposing it, in its degree, 
 
A HARD CASE. 175 
 
 to exist) from among mankind, irrespective of color, 
 then am I what you say." 
 
 " Picked and prudent sentiments. You are the mode 
 rate man, the invaluable understrapper of the wicked 
 man. You. the moderate man, may be used for wrong, 
 but are useless for right." 
 
 ; ' From all this," said the herb-doctor, still forgivingly, 
 " I infer, that you, a Missourian, though living in a slave- 
 state, are without slave sentiments." 
 
 " Aye, but are you ? Is not that air of yours, so 
 spiritlessly enduring and yielding, the very air of a 
 slave ? Who is your master, pray ; or are you owned by 
 a company ?" 
 
 "My master?" 
 
 " Aye, for come from Maine or Georgia, you come 
 from a slave-state, and a slave-pen, where the best 
 breeds are to be bought up at any price from a liveli 
 hood to the Presidency. Abolitionism, ye gods, but 
 expresses the fellow-feeling of slave for slave." 
 
 " The back-woods would seem to have given you 
 rather eccentric notions," now with polite superiority 
 smiled the herb-doctor, still with manly intrepidity for 
 bearing each unmanly thrust, " but to return ; since, 
 for your purpose, you will have neither man nor boy, 
 bond nor free, truly, then some sort of machine for you 
 is all there is left. My desires for your success attend 
 you, sir. Ah !" glancing shoreward, " here is Cape Gira- 
 deau ; I must leave you." 
 
CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 IN THE POLITE SPIRIT OP THE TUSCULAN DISPUTATIONS. 
 
 u ' PHILOSOPHICAL INTELLIGENCE OFFICE' novel 
 idea! But how did you come to dream that I wanted 
 anything in your absurd line, eh?" 
 
 About twenty minutes after leaving Cape Giradeau, 
 the above was growled out over his shoulder by the Mis- 
 sourian to a chance stranger who had just accosted 
 him ; a round-backed, baker-kneed man, in a mean five- 
 dollar suit, wearing, collar-wise by a chain, a small brass 
 plate, inscribed P. I. O.y and who, with a sort of canine 
 deprecation, slunk obliquely behind. 
 
 " How did you come to dream that I wanted any 
 thing in your line, eh ?" 
 
 " Oh, respected sir," whined the other, crouching a 
 pace nearer, and, in his obsequiousness, seeming to wag 
 his very coat-tails behind him, shabby though they were, 
 " oh, sir, from long experience, one glance tells me the 
 gentleman who is in need of our humble services." 
 
 " But suppose I did want a boy what they jocosely 
 call a good boy how could your absurd office help me ? 
 Philosophical Intelligence Office?" 
 
IN THE POLITE SPIRIT, ETC. 177 
 
 "Yes, respected sir, an office founded on strictly philo 
 sophical and physio " 
 
 "Look you come up here how, by philosophy or 
 physiology either, make good boys to order ? Come up 
 here. Don't give me a crick in the neck. Come up 
 here, come, sir, come," calling as if to his pointer. 
 " Tell me, how put the requisite assortment of good 
 qualities into a boy, as the assorted mince into the 
 pie ?" 
 
 " Respected sir, our office " 
 
 "You talk much of that office. Where is it? On 
 board this boat ?" 
 
 " Oh no, sir, I just came aboard. Our office " 
 
 " Came aboard at that last landing, eh ? Pray, do 
 you know a herb-doctor there ? Smooth scamp in a 
 snuff-colored surtout ?" 
 
 " Oh, sir, I was but a sojourner at Cape Giradeau. 
 Though, now that you mention a snuff-colored surtout, I 
 think I met such a man as you speak of stepping ashore 
 as I stepped aboard, and 'pears to me I have seen him 
 somewhere before. Looks like a very mild Christian 
 sort of person, I should say. Do you know him, re 
 spected sir?" 
 
 " Not much, but better than you seem to. Proceed 
 with your business." 
 
 "With a low, shabby bow, as grateful for the permis 
 sion, the other began : " Our office " 
 
 " Look you," broke in the bachelor with ire, " have 
 you the spinal complaint ? What are you ducking and 
 groveling about? Keep still. Where's your office?" 
 
178 THE CONFIDENCE- MAN. 
 
 "The branch one which I represent, is at Alton, sir, 
 in the free state we now pass," (pointing somewhat 
 proudly ashore). 
 
 "Free, eh? You a freeman, you flatter yourself? 
 With those coat-tails and that spinal complaint of ser 
 vility ? Free? Just cast up in your private mind who 
 is your master, will you?" 
 
 "Oh, oh, oh! I don't understand indeed indeed. 
 But, respected sir, as before said, our office, founded on 
 principles wholly new " 
 
 " To the devil with your principles ! Bad sign when 
 a man begins to talk of his principles. Hold, come 
 back, sir; back here, back, sir, back! I tell you no 
 more boys for me. Nay, I'm a Mede and Persian. In 
 my old home in the woods I'm pestered enough with 
 squirrels, weasels, chipmunks, skunks. I want no more 
 wild vermin to spoil my temper and waste my sub 
 stance. Don't talk of boys; enough of your boys; a 
 plague of your boys ; chilblains on your boys ! As for 
 Intelligence Offices, I've lived in the East, and know 
 'em. Swindling concerns kept by low-born cynics, un 
 der a fawning exterior wreaking their cynic malice upon 
 mankind. You are a fair specimen of 'em." 
 
 " Oh dear, dear, dear!" 
 
 "Dear? Yes, a thrice dear purchase one of your 
 boys would be to me. A rot on your boys !" 
 
 "But, respected sir, if you will not have boys, might 
 we not, in our small way, accommodate you with a 
 man ?" 
 
 " Accommodate ? Pray, no doubt you could accom- 
 
IN THE POLITE SPIRIT, ETC. 179 
 
 modate me with a bosom-friend too, couldn't you? 
 Accommodate! Obliging word accommodate: there's 
 accommodation notes now, where one accommodates 
 another with a loan, and if he don't pay it pretty quickly, 
 acommodates him with a chain to his foot. Accommo 
 date ! God forbid that I should ever be accommodated. 
 No, no. Look you, as I told that cousin-german of 
 yours, the herb-doctor, I'm now on the road to get me 
 made some sort of machine to do my work. Machines for 
 me. My cider-mill does that ever steal my cider? My 
 mowing-machine does that ever lay a-bed mornings ? 
 My corn-husker does that ever give me insolence ? 
 No : cider-mill, mowing-machine, corn-husker all faith 
 fully attend to their business. Disinterested, too; no 
 board, no wages ; yet doing good all their lives long ; 
 shining examples that virtue is its own reward the only 
 practical Christians I know." 
 
 " Oh dear, dear, dear, dear !" 
 
 "Yes, sir: boys? Start my soul-bolts, what a dif 
 ference, in a moral point of view, between a corn-husker 
 and a boy ! Sir, a corn-husker, for its patient continu 
 ance in well-doing, might not unfitly go to heaven. Do 
 you suppose a boy will?" 
 
 " A corn-husker in heaven ! (turning up the whites 
 of his eyes). Respected sir, this way of talking as if 
 heaven were a kind of Washington patent-office mu 
 seum oh, oh, oh ! as if mere machine-work and pup 
 pet-work went to heaven oh, oh, oh ! Things incapa 
 ble of free agency, to receive the eternal reward of well 
 doing oh, oh, oh !" 
 
180 THE CONFIDENCE- MAN. 
 
 '* You Praise-God-Barebones you, what are you groan 
 ing about ? Did I say anything of that sort ? Seems to 
 me, though you talk so good, you are mighty quick at a 
 hint the other way, or else you want to pick a polemic 
 quarrel with me." 
 
 " It may be so or not, respected sir," was now the de 
 mure reply ; " but if it be, it is only because as a soldier 
 out of honor is quick in taking affront, so a Christian 
 out of religion is quick, sometimes perhaps a little too 
 much so, in spying heresy." 
 
 "Well," after an astonished pause, "for an unac 
 countable pair, you and the herb-doctor ought to yoke 
 together." 
 
 So saying, the bachelor was eying him rather sharply, 
 when he with the brass plate recalled him to the discus 
 sion by a hint, not unflattering, that he (the man with 
 the brass plate) was all anxiety to hear him further on 
 the subject of servants. 
 
 " About that matter," exclaimed the impulsive bache 
 lor, going off at the hint like a rocket, " all thinking 
 minds are, now-a-days, coming to the conclusion one 
 derived from an immense hereditary experience see 
 what Horace and others of the ancients say of servants 
 coming to the conclusion, I say, that boy or man, the 
 human animal is, for most work-purposes, a losing ani 
 mal. Can't be trusted; less trustworthy than oxen; 
 for conscientiousness a turn-spit dog excels him. Hence 
 these thousand new inventions carding machines, horse 
 shoe machines, tunnel-boring machines, reaping ma 
 chines, apple-paring machines, boot-blacking machines. 
 
IN THE POLITE SPIRIT, ETC. 181 
 
 sewing machines, shaving machines, run-of-errand ma 
 chines, dumb-waiter machines, and the Lord-only-knows- 
 what machines ; all of which announce the era when 
 that refractory animal, the working or serving man, 
 shall be a buried by-gone, a superseded fossil. Shortly 
 prior to which glorious time, I c|pubt not that a price 
 will be put upon their peltries as upon the knavish 
 'possums,' especially the boys. Yes, sir (ringing his 
 rifle down on the deck), I rejoice to think that the 
 day is at hand, when, prompted to it by law, I shall 
 shoulder this gun and go out a boy-shooting." 
 
 " Oh, now ! Lord, Lord, Lord! But our office, re 
 spected sir, conducted as I ventured to observe " 
 
 "No, sir," bristlingly settling his stubble chin in his 
 coon-skins. " Don't try to oil me ; the herb-doctor 
 tried that. My experience, carried now through a course 
 worse than salivation a course of five and thirty 
 boys, proves to me that boyhood is a natural state of 
 rascality." 
 
 " Save us, save us !" 
 
 " Yes, sir, yes. My name is Pitch ; I stick to what I 
 say. I speak from fifteen years' experience ; five and 
 thirty boys ; American, Irish, English, German, African, 
 Mulatto; not to speak of that China boy sent me by 
 one who well knew my perplexities, from California ; 
 and that Lascar boy from Bombay. Thug ! I found 
 him sucking the embryo life from my spring eggs. All 
 rascals, sir, every soul of them ; Caucasian or Mongol. 
 Amazing the endless variety of rascality in human na 
 ture of the juvenile sort. I remember that, having dis- 
 
182 THE CONFIDENCE- MAN. 
 
 charged, one after another, twenty-nine boys each, too, 
 for some wholly unforeseen species ofviciousness peculiar 
 to that one peculiar boy I remember saying to myself: 
 Now, then, surely, I have got to the end of the list, 
 wholly exhausted it ; I have only now to get me a boy, 
 any boy different from those twenty-nine preceding 
 boys, and he infallibly shall be that virtuous boy I have 
 so long been seeking. But, bless me ! this thirtieth boy 
 by the way, having at the time long forsworn your in 
 telligence offices, I had him sent to me from the Com 
 missioners of Emigration, all the way from New York, 
 culled out carefully, in fine, at my particular request, 
 from a standing army of eight hundred boys, the 
 flowers of all nations, so they wrote me, temporarily in 
 barracks on an East River island I say, this thirtieth 
 boy was in person not ungraceful ; his deceased mo 
 ther a lady's maid, or something of that sort ; and 
 in manner, why, in a plebeian way, a perfect Chester 
 field ; very intelligent, too quick as a flash. But, 
 such suavity ! * Please sir ! please sir !' always bowing 
 and saying, * Please sir.' In the strangest way, too, com 
 bining a filial affection with a menial respect. Took 
 such warm, singular interest in my affairs. Wanted to 
 be considered one of the family sort of adopted son of 
 mine, I suppose. Of a morning, when I \vould go out 
 to my stable, with what childlike good nature he would 
 trot out my nag, 4 Please sir, I think he's getting fat 
 ter and fatter-' * But, lie don't look very clean, does 
 he unwilling to be downright harsh with so affec 
 tionate a lad ; 'and he seems a little hollow inside the 
 
IN THE POLITE SPIRIT, ETC. 183 
 
 haunch there, don't he ? or no, perhaps I don't see plain 
 this morning.' ' Oh, please sir, it's just there I think 
 he's gaining so, please.' Polite scamp ! I soon found 
 he never gave that wretched nag his oats of nights; 
 didn't bed him either. Was above that sort of cham 
 bermaid work. No end to his willful neglects. But the 
 more he abused my service, the more polite he grew." 
 " Oh, sir, some way you mistook him. " 
 " Not a bit of it. Besides, sir, he was a boy who un 
 der a Chesterfieldian exterior hid strong destructive pro 
 pensities. He cut up my horse-blanket for the bits of 
 leather, for hinges to his chest. Denied it point-blank. 
 After he was gone, found the shreds under his mattress. 
 Would slyly break his hoe-handle, too, on purpose to 
 get rid of hoeing. Then be so gracefully penitent for 
 his fatal excess of industrious strength. Offer to mend 
 all by taking a nice stroll to the nighest settlement 
 cherry-trees in full bearing all the way to get the bro 
 ken thing cobbled. Very politely stole my pears, odd 
 pennies, shillings, dollars, and nuts ; regular squirrel at 
 it. But I could prove nothing. Expressed to him my 
 suspicions. Said I, moderately enough, A little less 
 politeness, and a little more honesty would suit me bet 
 ter.' He fired up ; threatened to sue for libel. I won't 
 say anything about his afterwards, in Ohio, being found 
 in the act of gracefully putting a bar across a rail-road 
 track, for the reason that a stoker called him the rogue 
 that he was. But enough : polite boys or saucy boys, 
 white boys or black boys, smart boys or lazy boys, 
 Caucasian boys or Mongol boys all are rascals." 
 
184 THE CONFIDENCE- MAN. 
 
 " Shocking, shocking !" nervously tucking his frayed 
 cravat-end out of sight. " Surely, respected sir, youlabor 
 under a deplorable hallucination. Why, pardon again, 
 you seem to have not the slightest confidence in boys. I 
 admit, indeed, that boys, some of them at least, are but 
 too prone to one little foolish foible or other. But, what 
 then, respected sir, when, by natural laws, they finally 
 outgrow such things, and wholly ?" 
 
 Having until now vented himself mostly in plaintive 
 dissent of canine whines and groans, the man with the 
 brass-plate seemed beginning to summon courage to a 
 less timid encounter. But, upon his maiden essay, was 
 not very encouragingly handled, since the dialogue im 
 mediately continued as follows : 
 
 " Boys outgrow what is amiss in them ? From bad 
 boys spring good men ? Sir, ' the child is father of the 
 man ;' hence, as all boys are rascals, so are all men. 
 But, God bless me, you must know these things better 
 than I ; keeping an intelligence office as you do ; a busi 
 ness which must furnish peculiar facilities for studying 
 mankind. Come, come up here, sir ; confess you know 
 these things pretty well, after all. Do you not know 
 that all men are rascals, and all boys, too ?" 
 
 " Sir," replied the other, spite of his shocked feelings 
 seeming to pluck up some spirit, but not to an indiscreet 
 degree, " Sir, heaven be praised, I am far, very far from 
 knowing what you say. True," he thoughtfully con 
 tinued, " with my associates, I keep an intelligence 
 office, and for ten years, come October, have, one way 
 or other, been concerned in that line ; for no small pe- 
 
IN THE POLITE SPIRIT, ETC. 185 
 
 riod in the great city of Cincinnati, too ; and though, as 
 you hint, within that long interval, I must have had 
 more or less favorable opportunity for studying man 
 kind in a business way, scanning not only the faces, 
 but ransacking the lives of several, thousands of human 
 beings, male and female, of various nations, both em 
 ployers and employed, genteel and ungenteel, educated 
 and uneducated ; yet of course, I candidly admit, with 
 some random exceptions, I have, so far as my small ob 
 servation goes, found that mankind thus domestically 
 viewed, confidentially viewed, I may say ; they, upon the 
 whole making some reasonable allowances for human 
 imperfection present as pure a moral spectacle as the 
 purest angel could wish. I say it, respected sir, with 
 confidence." 
 
 " Gammon ! You don't mean what you say. Else 
 you are like a landsman at sea : don't know the ropes, 
 the very things everlastingly pulled before your eyes. 
 Serpent-like, they glide about, traveling blocks too 
 subtle for you. In short, the entire ship is a riddle. 
 Why, you green ones wouldn't know if she were unsea- 
 worthy ; but still, with thumbs stuck back into your 
 arm-holes, pace the rotten planks, singing, like a fool, 
 words put into your green mouth by the cunning owner, 
 the man who, heavily insuring it, sends his ship to be 
 wrecked 
 
 ' A wet sheet and a flowing sea !' 
 
 and, sir, now that it occurs to me, your talk, the 
 whole of it, is but a wet sheet and a flowing sea, and 
 
186 THE CONFIDENCE- MAN. 
 
 an idle wind that follows fast, offering a striking con 
 trast to my own discourse." 
 
 "Sir," exclaimed the, man with the brass-plate, his 
 patience now more or less tasked, " permit me with 
 deference to hint that some of your remarks are injudi 
 ciously worded. And thus we say to our patrons, when 
 they enter our office full of abuse of us because of some 
 worthy boy we may have sent them some boy wholly 
 misjudged for the time. Yes, sir, permit me to remark 
 that you do not sufficiently consider that, though a small 
 man, I may have my small share of feelings." 
 
 " Well, well, I didn't mean to wound your feelings at 
 all. And that they are small, very small, I take your 
 word for it. Sorry, sorry. But trjith is like a 'thrash 
 ing-machine ; tender sensibilities must keep out of the 
 way. Hope you understand me. Don't want to hurt 
 you. All I say is, what I said in the first place, only 
 now I swear it, that all boys are rascals." 
 
 " Sir," lowly replied the other, still forbearing like an 
 old lawyer badgered in court, or else like a good-hearted 
 simpleton, the butt of mischievous wags, " Sir, since 
 you come back to the point, will you allow me, in my 
 small, quiet way, to submit to you certain small, quiet 
 views of the subject in hand?" 
 
 " Oh, yes !" with insulting indifference, rubbing his 
 chin and looking the other way. " Oh, yes ; go on." 
 
 " Well, then, respected sir," continued the other, now 
 assuming as genteel an attitude as the irritating set of 
 his pinched five-dollar suit would permit; " well, then, 
 sir, the peculiar principles, the strictly philosophical 
 
IN THE POLITE SPIRIT, ETC. 187 
 
 principles, I may say," guardedly rising in dignity, as 
 he guardedly rose on his toes, " upon which our office is 
 founded, has led me and my associates, in our small, 
 quiet way, to a careful analytical study of man, con 
 ducted, too, on a quiet theory, and with an unobtrusive 
 aim wholly our own. That theory I will not now at 
 large set forth. But some of the discoveries resulting 
 from it, I will, by your permission, very briefly men 
 tion ; such of them, I mean, as refer to the state of boy 
 hood scientifically viewed." 
 
 " Then you have studied the thing? expressly studied 
 boys, eh ? Why didn't you out with that before ?" 
 
 " Sir, in my small business way, I have not conversed 
 with so many masters, gentlemen masters, for nothing. 
 I have been taught that in this world there is a prece 
 dence of opinions as well as of persons. You have 
 kindly given me your views, I am now, with modesty, 
 about to give you mine." 
 
 " Stop flunkying gcron." 
 
 " In the first place, sir, our theory teaches us to pro 
 ceed by analogy from the physical to the moral. Are 
 we right there, sir? Now, sir, take a young boy, a 
 young male infant rather, a man-child in short what 
 sir, I respectfully ask, do you in the first place remark?" 
 
 " A rascal, sir ! present and prospective, a rascal !" 
 
 " Sir, if passion is to invade, surely science must 
 evacuate. May I proceed? Well, then, what, in the 
 first place, in a general view, do you remark, respected 
 sir, in that male baby or man-child ?" 
 
 The bachelor privily growled, but this time, upon the 
 
188 THE CONFIDENCE- MAN. 
 
 whole, better governed himself than before, though not, 
 indeed, to the degree of thinking ifc prudent to risk an 
 articulate response. 
 
 "What do you remark? I respectfully repeat." 
 But, as no answer came, only the low, half-suppressed 
 growl, as of Bruin in a hollow trunk, the questioner con 
 tinued : " Well, sir, if you will permit me, in my small way, 
 to speak for you, you remark, respected sir, an incipient 
 creation ; loose sort of sketchy thing ; a little preliminary 
 rag-paper study, or careless cartoon, so to speak, of a 
 man. The idea, you see, respected sir, is there ; but, as 
 yet, wants filling out. In a word, respected sir, the 
 man-child is at present but little, every way ; I don'fc 
 pretend to deny it; but, then, he promises well, does he 
 not ? Yes, promises very well indeed, I may say. (So, 
 too, we say to our patrons in reference to some noble 
 little youngster objected to for being a dwarf.) But, to 
 advance one step further," extending his thread-bare leg, 
 as he drew a pace nearer, " we must now drop the 
 figure of the rag-paper cartoon, and borrow one to use 
 presently, when wanted from the horticultural king 
 dom. Some bud, lily-bud, if you please. Now, such 
 points as the new-born man-child has as yet not all 
 that could be desired, I am free to confess still, such 
 as they are, there they are, and palpable as those of an 
 adult. But we stop not here," taking another step. 
 " The man-child not only possesses these present points, 
 small though they are, but, likewise now our horti 
 cultural image comes into play like the bud of the lily, 
 he contains concealed rudiments of others ; that is, 
 
IN THE POLITE SPIRIT, ETC. 189 
 
 points at present invisible, with beauties at present 
 dormant." 
 
 " Come, come, this talk is getting too horticultural 
 and beautiful altogether. Cut it short, cut it short !" 
 
 " Respected sir," with a rustily martial sort of gesture, 
 like a decayed corporal's, " when deploying into the 
 field of discourse the vanguard of an important argu 
 ment, much more in evolving the grand central forces 
 of a new philosophy of boys, as I may say, surely you 
 will kindly allow scope adequate to the movement in 
 hand, small and humble in its way as that movement 
 may be. Is it worth my while to go on, respected 
 sir ?" 
 
 " Yes, stop flunkying and go on." 
 
 Thus encouraged, again the philosopher with the brass- 
 plate proceeded : 
 
 "Supposing, sir, that worthy gentleman (in such 
 terms, to an applicant for service, we allude to some 
 patron we chance to have in our eye), supposing, re 
 spected sir, that worthy gentleman, Adam, to have been 
 dropped overnight in Eden, as a calf in the pasture ; 
 supposing that, sir then how could even the learned 
 serpent himself have foreknown that such a downy- 
 chinned little innocent would eventually rival the goat 
 in a beard? Sir, wise as the serpent was, that eventu 
 ality would have been entirely hidden from his wisdom." 
 
 "I don't know about that. The devil is very saga 
 cious. To judge by the event, he appears to have 
 understood man better even than the Being who made 
 him." 
 
190 THE CONFIDENCE- MAN. 
 
 "For God's sake, don't say that, sir! To the point. 
 Can it now with fairness be denied that, in his beard, the 
 man-child prospectively possesses an appendix, not less 
 imposing than patriarchal ; and for this goodly beard, 
 should we not by generous anticipation give the man- 
 child, even in his cradle, credit? Should we not now, 
 sir? respectfully I put it." 
 
 " Yes, if like pig-weed he mows it down soon as it 
 shoots," porcinely rubbing his stubble-chin against his 
 coon-skins. 
 
 " I have hinted at the analogy," continued the other, 
 calmly disregardful of the digression ; "now to apply it. 
 Suppose a boy evince no noble quality. Then gener 
 ously give him credit for his prospective one. Don't you 
 see? So we say to our patrons when they would fain 
 return a boy upon us as unworthy : ' Madam, or sir, 
 (as the case may be) has this boy a beard ?' * No.' 
 * Has he, we respectfully ask, as yet, evinced any noble 
 quality?' 'No, indeed.' ' Then, madam, or sir, take him 
 back, we humbly beseech ; and keep him till that same 
 noble quality sprouts ; for, have confidence, it, like the 
 beard, is in him.' " 
 
 " Very fine theory," scornfully exclaimed the bache 
 lor, yet in secret, perhaps, not entirely undisturbed by 
 these strange new views of the matter ; " but what trust 
 is to be placed in it?" 
 
 " The trust of perfect confidence, sir. To proceed. 
 Once more, if you please, regard the man-child." 
 
 ** Hold !" paw-like thrusting out his bearskin arm, 
 " don't intrude that man-child upon me too often. He 
 
IN THE POLITE SPIRIT, ETC. 191 
 
 who loves not bread, dotes not on dough. As little of 
 your man-child as your logical arrangements will 
 admit." 
 
 " Anew regard the man-child," with inspired intre 
 pidity repeated he with the brass-plate, " in the perspect 
 ive of his developments, I mean. At first the man-child 
 has no teeth, but about the sixth month am I right, 
 sir?" 
 
 " Don't know anything about it." 
 
 " To proceed then : though at first deficient in teeth, 
 about the sixth month the man-child begins to put forth 
 in that particular. And sweet those tender little put- 
 tings-forth are." 
 
 " Very, but blown out of his mouth directly, worthless 
 enough." 
 
 " Admitted. And, therefore, we say to our patrons re 
 turning with a boy alleged not only to be deficient in 
 goodness, but redundant in ill : * The lad, madam or sir, 
 evinces very corrupt qualities, does he ?' * No end to 
 them.' But, have confidence, there will be ; for pray, 
 madam, in this lad's early childhood, were not those 
 frail first teeth, then his, followed by his present sound, 
 even, beautiful and permanent set. And the more ob 
 jectionable those first teeth became, was not that, ma 
 dam, we respectfully submit, so much the more reason 
 to look for their speedy substitution by the present 
 sound, even, beautiful and permanent ones.' ' True, 
 true, can't deny that.' ' Then, madam, take him back, 
 we respectfully beg, and wait till, in the now swift 
 course of nature, dropping those transient moral blem- 
 
192 THE CONFIDENCE-MAN. 
 
 ishes you complain of, he replacingly buds forth in the 
 sound, even, beautiful and permanent virtues.' " 
 
 "Very philosophical again," was the contemptuous 
 reply the outward contempt, perhaps, proportioned to 
 the inward misgiving. "Vastly philosophical, indeed, but 
 tell me to continue your analogy since the second 
 teeth followed in fact, came from the first, is there 
 no chance the blemish may be transmitted ?" 
 
 " Not at all." Abating in humility as he gained in 
 the argument. " The second teeth follow, but do not 
 come from, the first; successors, not sons. The first 
 teeth are not like the germ blossom of the apple, at 
 once the father of, and incorporated into, the growth it 
 foreruns ; but they are thrust from their place by the 
 independent undergrowth of the succeeding set an 
 illustration, by the way, which shows more for me than 
 I meant, though not more than I wish." 
 
 " What does it show ?" Surly-looking as a thunder 
 cloud with the inkept unrest of unacknowledged con 
 viction. 
 
 " It shows this, respected sir, that in the case of any 
 boy, especially an ill one, to apply unconditionally the 
 saying, that the child is father of the man', is, besides 
 implying an uncharitable aspersion of the race, affirming 
 a thing very wide of " 
 
 " Your analogy," like a snapping turtle. 
 
 " Yes, respected sir." 
 
 "But is analogy argument? You are a punster." 
 
 "Punster, respected sir?" with a look of being ag 
 grieved. 
 
IN THE POLITE SPIRIT, ETC. 193 
 
 " Yes, you pun with ideas as another man may with 
 words." 
 
 " Oh well, sir, whoever talks in that strain, whoever 
 has no confidence in human reason, whoever despises 
 human reason, in vain to reason with him. Still, re 
 spected sir," altering his air, " permit me to hint that, 
 had not the force of analogy moved you somewhat, you 
 would hardly have offered to contemn it." 
 
 "Talk away," disdainfully; " but pray tell me what 
 has that last analogy of yours to do with your intelli 
 gence office business?" 
 
 "Everything to do with it, respected sir. From that 
 analogy we derive the reply made to such a patron as, 
 shortly after being supplied by us with an adult servant, 
 proposes to return him upon our hands ; not that, while 
 with the patron, said adult has given any cause of dis 
 satisfaction, but the patron has just chanced to hear 
 something unfavorable concerning him from some 
 gentleman who employed said adult long before, while 
 a boy. To which too fastidious patron, we, taking said 
 adult by the hand, and graciously reintroducing him to 
 the patron, say : ' Far be it from you, madam, or sir, 
 to proceed in your censure against this adult, in any 
 thing of the spirit of an ex-post-facto law. Madam, or 
 sir, would you visit upon the butterfly the sins of the 
 caterpillar ? In the natural advance of all creatures, do 
 they not bury themselves over and over again in the 
 endless resurrection of better and better ? Madam, or sir, 
 take back this adult ; he may have been a caterpillar, 
 but is now a butterfly." 
 
194 THE CONFIDENCE- MAN. 
 
 " Pun away; but even accepting your analogical pun, 
 what does it amount to? Was the caterpillar one crea 
 ture, and is the butterfly another ? The butterfly is the 
 caterpillar in a gaudy cloak ; stripped of which, there 
 lies the impostor's long spindle of a body, pretty much 
 worm-shaped as before." 
 
 "You reject the analogy. To the facts then. You 
 deny that a youth of one character can be transformed 
 into a man of an opposite character. Now then yes, 
 I have it. There's the founder of La Trappe, and Igna 
 tius Loyola ; in boyhood, and someway into manhood, 
 both devil-may-care bloods, and yet, in the end, the 
 wonders of the world for anchoritish self-command. 
 These two examples, by-the-way, we cite to such pa 
 trons as would hastily return rakish young waiters upon 
 us. 'Madam, or sir patience ; patience,' we say; ' good 
 madam, or sir, would you discharge forth your cask of 
 good wine, because, while working, it riles more or less ? 
 Then discharge not forth this young waiter ; the good in 
 him is working.' ' But he is a sad rake.' * Therein is 
 his promise ; the rake being crude material for the 
 saint.' " 
 
 " Ah, you are a talking man what I call a wordy 
 man. You talk, talk." 
 
 "And with submission, sir, what is the greatest judge, 
 bishop or prophet, but a talking man ? He talks, talks. 
 It is the peculiar vocation of a teacher to talk. What's 
 wisdom itself but table-talk? The best wisdom in this 
 world, and the last spoken by its teacher, did it not 
 literally and truly come in the form of table-talk ?" 
 
IN THE POLITE SPIRIT, ETC. 195 
 
 " You, you you !" rattling down his rifle. 
 
 " To shift the subject, since we cannot agree. Pray, 
 what is your opinion, respected sir, of St. Augus 
 tine ?" 
 
 " St. Augustine ? What should I, or you either, know 
 of him ? Seems to me, for one in such a business, to say 
 nothing of such a coat, that though you don't know a 
 great deal, indeed, yet you know a good deal more than 
 you ought to know, or than you have a right to know, 
 or than it is safe or expedient for you to know, or 
 than, in the fair course of life, you could have honestly 
 come to know. I am of opinion you should be served 
 like a Jew in the middle ages with his gold ; this knowl 
 edge of yours, which you haven't enough knowledge to 
 know how to make a right use of, it should be taken 
 from you. And so I have been thinking all along." 
 
 " You are merry, sir. But you have a little looked 
 into St. Augustine I suppose. 
 
 " St. Augustine on Original Sin is my text book. 
 But you, I ask again, where do you find time or inclina 
 tion for these out-of-the-way speculations ? In fact, 
 your whole talk, the more I think of it, is altogether un 
 exampled and extraordinary." 
 
 " Respected sir, have I not already informed you that 
 the quite new method, the strictly philosophical one, on 
 which our office is founded, has led me and my associ 
 ates to an enlarged study of mankind. It was my fault, 
 if I did not, likewise, hint, that these studies directed 
 always to the scientific procuring of good servants of all 
 sorts, boys included, for the kind gentlemen, our patrons 
 
196 THE CONFIDENCE-MAN. 
 
 that these studies, I say, have been conducted equally 
 among all books of all libraries, as among all men of all 
 nations. Then, you rather like St. Augustine, sir ?" 
 
 " Excellent genius !" 
 
 " In some points he was ; yet, how comes it that un 
 der his own hand, St. Augustine confesses that, until his 
 thirtieth year, he was a very sad dog ?" 
 
 " A saint a sad dog ?" 
 
 " Not the saint, but the saint's irresponsible little 
 forerunner the boy." 
 
 " All boys are rascals, and so are all men," again fly 
 ing off at his tangent ; " my name is Pitch ; I stick to 
 what I say." 
 
 " Ah, sir, permit me when I behold you on this mild 
 summer's eve, thus eccentrically clothed in the skins of 
 wild beasts, I cannot but conclude that the equally 
 grim and unsuitable habit of your mind is likewise but 
 an eccentric assumption, having no basis in your genuine 
 soul, no more than in nature herself." 
 
 " Well, really, now really," fidgeted the bachelor, 
 not unaffected in his conscience by these benign person 
 alities, " really, really, now, I don't know but that I 
 may have been a little bit too hard upon those five and 
 thirty boys of mine." 
 
 " Glad to find you a little softening, sir. Who knows 
 now, but that flexile gracefulness, however questionable 
 at the time of that thirtieth boy of yours, might have 
 been the silky husk of the most solid qualities of maturi 
 ty. It might have been with him as with the ear of the 
 Indian corn." 
 
IN THE POLITE SPIRIT, ETC. 197 
 
 u Yes, yes, yes," excitedly cried the bachelor, as the 
 light of this new illustration broke in, " yes, yes ; and 
 now that I think of it, how often I've sadly watched my 
 Indian corn in May, wondering whether such sickly, 
 half-eaten sprouts, could ever thrive up into the stiff, 
 stately spear of August." 
 
 "A most admirable reflection, sir, and you have only, 
 according to the analogical theory first started by our of 
 fice, to apply it to that thirtieth boy in question, and see 
 the result. Had you but kept that thirtieth boy been 
 patient with his sickly virtues, cultivated them, hoed 
 round them, why what a glorious guerdon would have 
 been yours, when at last you should have had a St. Au 
 gustine for an ostler." 
 
 " Really, really well, I am glad I didn't send him to 
 jail, as at first I intended." 
 
 " Oh that would have been too bad. Grant he was 
 vicious. The petty vices of boys are like the innocent 
 kicks of colts, as yet imperfectly broken. Some boys 
 know not virtue only for the same reason they know 
 not French ; it was never taught them. Established upon 
 the basis of parental charity, juvenile asylums exist by 
 law for the benefit of lads convicted of acts which, in 
 adults, would have received other requital. Why ? Be 
 cause, do what they will, society, like our office, at bot 
 tom has a Christian confidence in boys. And all this we 
 say to our patrons." 
 
 " Your patrons, sir, seem your marines to whom you 
 may say anything," said the other, relapsing. " Why 
 do knowing employers shun youths from asylums, 
 
198 THE CONFIDENCE- MAN. 
 
 though offered them at the smallest wages ? I'll none 
 of your reformado boys." 
 
 " Such a boy, respected sir, I would not get for you, 
 but a boy that never needed reform. Do not smile, for 
 as whooping-cough and measles are juvenile diseases, 
 and yet some juveniles never have them, so are there 
 boys equally free from juvenile vices. True, for the 
 best of boys' measles may be contagious, and evil com 
 munications corrupt good manners ; but a boy with a 
 sound mind in a sound body such is the boy I would 
 get you. If hitherto, sir, you have struck upon a pecu 
 liarly bad vein of boys, so much the more hope now of 
 your hitting a good one." 
 
 " That sounds a kind of reasonable, as it were a 
 little so, really. In fact, though you have said a great 
 many foolish things, very foolish and absurd things, yet, 
 upon the whole, your conversation has been such as 
 might almost lead one less distrustful than I to repose a 
 certain conditional confidence in you, I had almost added 
 in your office, also. Now, for the humor of it, supposing 
 that even I, I myself, really had this sort of conditional 
 confidence, though but a grain, what sort of a boy, in 
 sober fact, could you send me ? And what would be 
 your fee?" 
 
 " Conducted," replied the other somewhat loftily, 
 rising now in eloquence as his proselyte, for all his pre 
 tenses, sunk in conviction, " conducted upon principles 
 involving care, learning, and labor, exceeding what is 
 usual in kindred institutions, the Philosophical Intelli 
 gence Office is forced to charges somewhat higher than 
 
IN THE POLITE SPIRIT, ETC. 199 
 
 customary. Briefly, our fee is three dollars in advance. 
 As for the boy, by a lucky chance, I have a very prom 
 ising little fellow now in my eye a very likely little 
 fellow, indeed." 
 
 44 Honest?" 
 
 " As the day is long. Might trust him with untold 
 millions. Such, at least, were the marginal observations 
 on the phrenological chart of his head, submitted to me 
 by the mother." 
 
 "How old?" 
 
 " Just fifteen." 
 
 "Tall? Stout?" 
 
 " Uncommonly so, for his age, his mother remarked." 
 
 " Industrious ?" 
 
 " The busy bee." 
 
 The bachelor fell into a troubled reverie. At last, 
 with much hesitancy, he spoke : 
 
 " Do you think now, candidly, that I say candidly 
 candidly could I have some small, limited some 
 faint, conditional degree of confidence in that boy? 
 Candidly, now?" 
 
 " Candidly, you could." 
 
 " A sound boy? A good boy ?" 
 
 " Never knew one more so." 
 
 The bachelor fell into another irresolute reverie ; 
 then said : " Well, now, you have suggested some 
 rather new views of boys, and men, too. Upon those 
 views in the concrete I at present decline to determine. 
 Nevertheless, for the sake purely of a scientific experi 
 ment, I will try that boy. I don't think him an angel, 
 
200 THE CONFIDENCE-MAN. 
 
 mind. No, no. But I'll try him. There are my three 
 dollars, and here is my address. Send him along this 
 day two weeks. Hold, you will be wanting the money 
 for his passage. There," handing it somewhat reluc 
 tantly. 
 
 " Ah, thank you. I had forgotten his passage ;" then, 
 altering in manner, and gravely holding the bills, con 
 tinued : " Respected sir, never willingly do I handle 
 money not with perfect willingness, nay, with a certain 
 alacrity, paid. Either tell me that you have a perfect 
 and unquestioning confidence in me (nevermind the boy 
 now) or permit me respectfully to return these bills." 
 
 " Put 'em up, put 'em up !" 
 
 " Thank you. Confidence is the indispensable basis 
 of all sorts of business transactions. Without it, com 
 merce between man and man, as between country and 
 country,, would, like a watch, run down and stop. And 
 now, supposing that against present expectation the lad 
 should, after all, evince some little undesirable trait, do 
 not, respected sir, rashly dismiss him. Have but pa 
 tience, have but confidence. Those transient vices will, 
 ere long, fall out, and be replaced by the sound, firm, 
 even and permanent virtues. Ah," glancing shoreward, 
 towards a grotesquely-shaped bluff, " there's the Devil's 
 Joke, as they call it ; the bell for landing will shortly 
 ring. I must go look up the cook I brought for the inn 
 keeper at Cairo." 
 
CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 IN WHICH THE POWERFUL EFFECT OF NATURAL SCENERY IS EVINCED 
 IX THE CASE OF THE MISSOURIAN, WHO, IN VIEW OF THE REGION ROUND 
 ABOUT CAIRO, HAS A RETURN OF HIS CHILLY FIT. 
 
 AT Cairo, the old established firm of Fever & Ague is 
 still settling up its unfinished business ; that Creole 
 grave-digger, Yellow Jack his hand at the mattock and 
 spade has not lost its cunning ; while Don Saturninus 
 Typhus taking his constitutional with Death, Calvin Ed- 
 son and three undertakers, in the morass, snuffs up the 
 mephitic breeze with zest. 
 
 In the dank twilight, fanned with mosquitoes, and 
 sparkling with fire-flies, the boat now lies before Cairo. 
 She has landed certain passengers, and tarries for the 
 coming of expected ones. Leaning over the rail on the 
 inshore side, the Missourian eyes through the dubious 
 medium that swampy and squalid domain ; and over it 
 audibly mumbles his cynical mind to himself, as Ape- 
 mantus' dog may have mumbled his bone. He bethinks 
 him that the man with the brass-plate was to land on 
 this villainous bank, and for that cause, if no other, be 
 gins to suspect him. Like one beginning to rouse him 
 self from a dose of chloroform treacherously given, he 
 9* 
 
202 THE CONFIDENCE- MAN. 
 
 half divines, too, that he, the philosopher, had unwitting 
 ly been betrayed into being an unphilosophical dupe. 
 To what vicissitudes of light and shade is man subject! 
 He ponders the mystery of human subjectivity in gene 
 ral. He thinks he perceives with Crossbones, his favor 
 ite author, that, as one may wake up well in the morning, 
 very well, indeed, and brisk as a buck, I thank you, but 
 ere bed-time get under the weather, there is no telling 
 how so one may wake up wise, and slow of assent, 
 very wise and very slow, I assure you, and for all that, 
 before night, by like trick in the atmosphere, be left in 
 the lurch a ninny. Health and wisdom equally precious, 
 and equally little as unfluctuating possessions to be re 
 lied on. 
 
 But where was slipped in the entering wedge ? Philo 
 sophy, knowledge, experience were those trusty knights 
 of the castle recreant ? No, but unbeknown to them, the 
 enemy stole on the castle's south side, its genial one, 
 where Suspicion, the warder, parleyed. In fine, his too 
 indulgent, too artless and companionable nature betrayed 
 him. Admonished by which, he thinks he must be a 
 little splenetic in his intercourse henceforth. 
 
 He revolves the crafty process of sociable chat, by 
 which, as he fancies, the man with the brass-plate 
 wormed into him, and made such a fool of him as in 
 sensibly to persuade him to waive, in his exceptional 
 case, that general law of distrust systematically applied 
 to the race. He revolves, but cannot comprehend, the 
 operation, still less the operator. Was the man a 
 trickster, it must be more for the love than the lucre. 
 
RETURN OF CHILLY FIT. 203 
 
 Two or three dirty dollars the motive to so many nice 
 wiles? And yet how full of mean needs his seeming. 
 Before his mental vision the person of that threadbare 
 Talleyrand, that impoverished Machiavelli, that seedy 
 Rosicrucian for something of all these he vaguely deems 
 him passes now in puzzled review. Fain, in his dis 
 favor, would he make out a logical case. The doctrine 
 of analogies recurs. Fallacious enough doctrine when 
 wielded against one's prejudices, but in corroboration of 
 cherished suspicions not without likelihood. Analogi 
 cally, he couples the slanting cut of the equivocator's 
 coat-tails with the sinister cast in his eye ; he weighs 
 slyboot's sleek speech in the light imparted by the ob 
 lique import of the smooth slope of his worn boot-heels ; 
 the insiuuator's undulating flunkyisms dovetail into 
 those of the flunky beast that windeth his way on his 
 belly. 
 
 From these uncordial reveries he is roused by a cordial 
 slap on the shoulder, accompanied by a spicy volume of 
 tobacco-smoke, out of which came a voice, sweet as a 
 seraph's : 
 
 " A penny for your thoughts, my fine fellow." 
 
CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 A PHILANTHROPIST UNDERTAKES TO CONVERT A MISANTHROPE, BUT DOES 
 NOT GET BEYOND CONFUTING HIM. 
 
 "HANDS off!" cried the bachelor, involuntarily cover 
 ing dejection with moroseness. 
 
 "Hands off? that sort of label won't do in our Fair. 
 "Whoever in our Fair has fine feelings loves to feel the 
 nap of fine cloth, especially when a fine fellow wears 
 it." 
 
 " And who of my fine-fellow species may you be ? 
 From the Brazils, ain't you ? Toucan fowl. Fine feathers 
 on foul meat." 
 
 This ungentle mention of the toucan was not improb 
 ably suggested by the parti-hued, and rather plumagy 
 aspect of the stranger, no bigot it would seem, but a 
 liberalist, in dress, and whose wardrobe, almost anywhere 
 than on the liberal Mississippi, used to all sorts of fan 
 tastic informalities, might, even to observers less critical 
 than the bachelor, have looked, if anything, a little out 
 of the common ; but not more so perhaps, than, con 
 sidering the bear and raccoon costume, the bachelor's 
 own appearance. In short, the stranger sported a vest 
 ure barred with various hues, that of the cochineal 
 
PHILANTHROPIST AND MISANTHROPE. 205 
 
 predominating, in style participating of a Highland 
 plaid, Emir's robe, and French blouse ; from its plaited 
 sort of front peeped glimpses of a flowered regatta-shirt, 
 while, for the rest, white trowsers of ample duck flowed 
 over maroon-colored slippers, and a jaunty smoking-cap 
 of regal purple crowned him off at top ; king of traveled 
 good-fellows, evidently. Grotesque as all was, nothing 
 looked stiff or unused ; all showed signs of easy service, 
 the least wonted thing setting like a wonted glove. 
 That genial hand, which had just been laid on the un- 
 genial shoulder, was now carelessly thrust down before 
 him, sailor-fashion, into a sort of Indian belt, confining 
 the redundant vesture ; the other held, by its long bright 
 cherry-stem, a Nuremburgh pipe in blast, its great porce 
 lain bowl painted in miniature with linked crests and 
 arms of interlinked nations a florid show. As by 
 subtle saturations of its mellowing essence the tobacco 
 had ripened the bowl, so it looked as if something similar 
 of the interior spirit came rosily out on the cheek. But 
 rosy pipe-bowl, or rosy countenance, all was lost on 
 that unrosy man, the bachelor, who, waiting a moment 
 till the commotion, caused by the boat's renewed pro 
 gress, had a little abated, thus continued : 
 
 " Hark ye," jeeringly eying the cap and belt, u did 
 you ever see Signor Marzetti in the African panto 
 mime?" 
 
 " No ; good performer ?" 
 
 " Excellent ; plays the intelligent ape till he seems it. 
 With such naturalness can a being endowed with an 
 immortal spirit enter into that of a monkey. But 
 
206 THE CONFIDENCE- MAN. 
 
 where's your tail? In the pantomime, Marzetti, no 
 hypocrite in his monkery, prides himself on that." 
 
 The stranger, now at rest, sideways and genially, on 
 one hip, his right leg cavalierly crossed before the other, 
 the toe of his vertical slipper pointed easily down on the 
 deck, whiffed out a long, leisurely sort of indifferent and 
 charitable puff, betokening him more or less of the ma 
 ture man of the world, a character which, like its oppo 
 site, the sincere Christian's, is not always swift to take 
 offense ; and then, drawing near, still smoking, again 
 laid his hand, this time with mild impressiveness, on the 
 ursine shoulder, and not unamiably said : " That in your 
 address there is a sufficiency of the fordter in re few un 
 biased observers will question ; but that this is duly 
 attempered with the suaviter in modo may admit, I think, 
 of an honest doubt. My dear fellow," beaming his eyes 
 full upon him, "what injury have I done you, that 
 you should receive my greeting with a curtailed civil 
 ity ?" 
 
 " Off hands ;" once more shaking the friendly member 
 from him. " Who in the name of the great chimpanzee, 
 in whose likeness, you, Marzetti, and the other chatter 
 ers are made, who in thunder are you?" 
 
 ** A cosmopolitan, a catholic man; who, being such, 
 ties himself to no narrow tailor or teacher, but federates, 
 in heart as in costume, something of the various gallan 
 tries of men under various suns. Oh, one roams not 
 over the gallant globe in vain. Bred by it, is a fraternal 
 and fusing feeling. No man is a stranger. You accost 
 anybody. Warm and confiding, you wait not for meas- 
 
PHILANTHROPIST AND MISANTHROPE. 207 
 
 ured advances. And though, indeed, mine, in this in 
 stance, have met with no very hilarious encouragement, 
 yet the principle of a true citizen of the world is still to 
 return good for ill. My dear fellow, tell me how I can 
 serve you." 
 
 "By dispatching yourself, Mr. Popinjay-of-the- world, 
 into the heart of the Lunar Mountains. You are an 
 other of them. Out of my sight !" 
 
 " Is the sight of humanity so very disagreeable to you 
 then ? Ah, I may be foolish, but for my part, in all its 
 aspects, I love it. Served up a la Pole, or a la Moor, a la 
 Ladrone, or a la Yankee, that good dish, man, still de 
 lights me ; or rather is man a wine I never weary of 
 comparing and sipping ; wherefore am I a pledged cos 
 mopolitan, a sort of London-Dock-Vault connoisseur, 
 going about from Teheran to Natchitoches, a taster of 
 races; in all his vintages, smacking my lips over this racy 
 creature, man, continually. But as there are teetotal 
 palates which have a distaste even for Amontillado, so I 
 suppose there may be teetotal souls which relish not 
 even the very best brands of humanity. Excuse me, 
 but it just occurs to me that you, my dear fellow, possi 
 bly lead a solitary life." 
 
 " Solitary ?" starting as at a touch of divination. 
 
 " Yes : in a solitary life one insensibly contracts oddi 
 ties, talking to one's self now." 
 
 " Been eaves-dropping, eh ?" 
 
 " Why, a soliloquist in a crowd can hardly but be 
 overheard, and without much reproach to the hear- 
 
208 THE CONFIDENCE-MAN. 
 
 " You are an eaves-dropper." 
 
 " Well. Be it so." 
 
 " Confess yourself an eaves-dropper?" 
 
 " I confess that when you were muttering here I, pass 
 ing by, caught a word or two, and, by like chance, 
 something previous of your chat with the Intelligence- 
 office man ; a rather sensible fellow, by the way ; 
 much of my style of thinking ; would, for his own sake, 
 he were of my style of dress. Grief to good minds, to 
 see a man of superior sense forced to hide his light 
 under the bushel of an inferior coat. Well, from what 
 little I heard, I said to myself, Here now is one with the 
 unprofitable philosophy of disesteem for man. Which 
 disease, in the main, I have observed excuse me to 
 spring from a certain lowness, if not sourness, of spirits 
 inseparable from sequestration. Trust me, one had bet 
 ter mix in, and do like others. Sad business, this hold 
 ing out against having a good time. Life is a pic-nic en 
 costume ; one must take a part, assume a character, stand 
 ready in a sensible way to play the fool. To come in 
 plain clothes, with a long face, as a wiseacre, only makes 
 one a discomfort to himself, and a blot upon the scene. 
 Like your jug of cold water among the wine-flasks, it 
 leaves you unelated among the elated ones. No, no. 
 This austerity won't do. Let me tell you too en confi- 
 ance that while revelry may not always merge into 
 ebriety, soberness, in too deep potations, may become a 
 sort of sottishness. Which sober sottishness, in my 
 way of thinking, is only to be cured by beginning at the 
 other end of the horn, to tipple a little." 
 
PHILANTHROPIST AND MISANTHROPE. 209 
 
 " Pray, what society of vintners and old topers are 
 you hired to lecture for?" 
 
 " I fear I did not give my meaning clearly. A little 
 story may help. The story of the worthy old woman 
 of Goshen, a very moral old woman, who wouldn't let 
 her shoats eat fattening apples in fall, for fear the fruit 
 might ferment upon their brains, and so make them 
 swinish. Now, during a green Christmas, inauspicious 
 to the old, this worthy old woman fell into a moping 
 decline, took to her bed, no appetite, and refused to 
 see her best friends. In much concern her good man 
 sent for the doctor, who, after seeing the patient and 
 putting a question or two, beckoned the husband out, 
 and said : ' Deacon, do you want her cured? 'Indeed I 
 do.' ' Go directly, then, and buy a jug of Santa Cruz.' 
 ' Santa Cruz ? my wife drink Santa Cruz ?' ' Either that 
 or die.' ' But how much ?' ' As much as she can get 
 down.' 'But she'll get drunk!' 'That's the cure.' 
 Wise men, like doctors, must be obeyed. Much against 
 the grain, the sober deacon got the unsober medicine, 
 and, equally against her conscience, the poor old woman 
 took it; but, by so doing, ere long recovered health and 
 spirits, famous appetite, and glad again to see her 
 friends ; and having by this experience broken the ice of 
 arid abstinence, never afterwards kept herself a cup too 
 low." 
 
 This story had the effect of surprising the bachelor 
 into interest, though hardly into approval. 
 
 " If I take your parable right," said he, sinking no 
 little of his former churlishness, "the meaning is, that 
 
210 THE CONFIDENCE-MAN. 
 
 one cannot enjoy life with gusto unless he renounce 
 the too-sober view of life. But since the too-sober 
 view is, doubtless, nearer true than the too-drunken ; I, 
 who rate truth, though cold water, above untruth, though 
 Tokay, will stick to my earthen jug." 
 
 " I see," slowly spirting upward a spiral staircase of 
 lazy smoke, " I see ; you go in for the lofty." 
 
 " How ?" 
 
 "Oh, nothing! but if I wasn't afraid of prosing, I 
 might tell another story about an old boot in a pie 
 man's loft, contracting there between sun and oven an 
 unseemly, dry-seasoned curl and warp. You've seen such 
 leathery old garret teers, haven't you ? Very high, sober, 
 solitary, philosophic, grand, old boots, indeed ; but I, for 
 my part, w r ould rather be the pieman's trodden slipper 
 on the ground. Talking of piemen, humble-pie before 
 proud-cake for me. This notion of being lone and lofty 
 is a sad mistake. Men I hold in this respect to be like 
 roosters ; the one that betakes himself to a lone and 
 lofty perch is the hen-pecked one, or the one that has 
 the pip." 
 
 " You are abusive !" cried the bachelor, evidently 
 touched. 
 
 " Who is abused ? You, or the race ? You won't 
 stand by and see the human race abused ? Oh, then, 
 you have some respect for the human race." 
 
 "I have some respect for myself" with a lip not so 
 firm as before. I 
 
 " And what race may you belong to ? now don't you 
 see, my dear fellow, in what inconsistencies one involves 
 
PHILANTHROPIST AND MISANTHROPE. 211 
 
 himself by affecting disesteem for men. To a charm, my 
 little stratagem succeeded. Come, come, think better 
 of it, and, as a first step to a new mind, give up solitude. 
 I fear, by the way, you have at some time been reading 
 Zimmermann, that old Mr. Megrims of a Zimmermann, 
 whose book on Solitude is as vain as Hume's on Suicide, 
 as Bacon's on Knowledge ; and, like these, will betray 
 him who seeks to steer soul and body by it, like a false 
 religion. All they, be they what boasted ones you 
 please, who, to the yearning of our kind after a founded 
 rule of content, offer aught not in the spirit of fellowly 
 gladness based on due confidence in what is above, 
 away with them for poor dupes, or still poorer im 
 postors." 
 
 His manner here was so earnest that scarcely any 
 auditor, perhaps, but would have been more or less 
 impressed by it, while, possibly, nervous opponents might 
 have a little quailed under it. Thinking within himself 
 a moment, the bachelor replied : " Had you experience, 
 you would know that your tippling theory, take it in 
 what sense you will, is poor as any other. And Rabelais' s 
 pro-wine Koran no more trustworthy than Mahomet's 
 anti-wine one." 
 
 " Enough," for a finality knocking the ashes from his 
 pipe, " we talk and keep talking, and still stand where 
 we did. What do you say for a walk? My arm, and 
 let's a turn. They are to have dancing on the hurricane- 
 deck to-night. I shall fling them off a Scotch jig, while, to 
 save the pieces, you hold my loose change ; and following 
 that, I propose that you, my dear fellow, stack your 
 
212 THE CONFIDENCE- MAN. 
 
 gun, and throw your bearskins in a sailor's hornpipe I 
 holding your watch. What do you say ?" 
 
 At this proposition the other was himself again, all 
 raccoon. 
 
 "Look you," thumping down his rifle, "are you 
 Jeremy Diddler No. 3 ?" 
 
 " Jeremy Diddler ? I have have heard of Jeremy the 
 prophet, and Jeremy Taylor the divine, but your other 
 Jeremy is a gentleman I am unacquainted with." 
 
 " You are his confidential clerk, ain't you ?" 
 
 " Whose, pray ? Not that I think myself unworthy of 
 being confided in, but I don't understand." 
 
 " You are another of them. Somehow I meet with 
 the most extraordinary metaphysical scamps to-day. 
 Sort of visitation of them. And yet that herb-doctor 
 Diddler somehow takes off the raw edge of the Diddlers 
 that come after him." 
 
 " Herb-doctor ? who is he ?" 
 
 " Like you another of them." 
 
 " Who?" Then drawing near, as if for a good long 
 explanatory chat, his left hand spread, and his pipe-stem 
 coming crosswise down upon it like a ferule, "You 
 think amiss of me. Now to undeceive you, I will just 
 enter into a little argument and " 
 
 " No you don't. No more little arguments for me. 
 Had too many little arguments to-day." 
 
 " But put a case. Can you deny I dare you to 
 deny that the man leading a solitary life is peculiarly 
 exposed to the sorriest misconceptions touching stran- 
 gers?" 
 
PHILANTHROPIST AND MISANTHROPE. 213 
 
 " Yes, I do deny it," again, in his impulsiveness, snap 
 ping at the controversial bait, " and I will confute 
 you there in a trice. Look, you " 
 
 " Now, now, now, my dear fellow," thrusting out 
 both vertical palms for double shields, " you crowd me 
 too hard. You don't give one a chance. Say what you 
 will, to shun a social proposition like mine, to shun 
 society in any way, evinces a churlish nature cold, love 
 less ; as, to embrace it, shows one warm and friendly, 
 in fact, sunshiny." 
 
 Here the other, all agog again, in his perverse way, 
 launched forth into the unkindest references to deaf old 
 worldlings keeping in the deafening world ; and gouty 
 gluttons limping to their gouty gormandizings ; and 
 corseted coquets clasping their corseted cavaliers in the 
 waltz, all for disinterested society's sake ; and thousands, 
 bankrupt through lavishness, ruining themselves out of 
 pure love of the sweet company of man no envies, 
 rivalries, or other unhandsome motive to it. 
 
 "Ah, now," deprecating with his pipe, "irony is so 
 unjust; never could abide irony; something Satanic about 
 irony. God defend me from Irony, and Satire, his bosom 
 friend." 
 
 " A right knave's prayer, and a right fool's, too," snap- 
 ing his rifle-lock. 
 
 "Now be frank. Own that was a little gratuitous. 
 But, no, no, you didn't mean; it any way, I can make 
 allowances. Ah, did you but know it, how much plea- 
 santer to puff at this philanthropic pipe, than still to keep 
 fumbling at that misanthropic rifle. As for your world- 
 
214 THE CONFIDENCE- MAN. 
 
 lingg, lutton, and coquette, though, doubtless; being 
 such, they may have their little foibles as who has 
 not ? yet not one of the three can be reproached with 
 that awful sin of shunning society ; awful I call it, for 
 not seldom it presupposes a still darker thing than 
 itself remorse." 
 
 " Remorse drives man away from man? How came 
 your fellow-creature, Cain, after the first murder, to go 
 and build the first city? And why is it that the 
 modern Cain dreads nothing so much as solitary confine 
 ment ? 
 
 "My dear fellow, you get excited. Say what you 
 will, I for one must have my fellow-creatures round me. 
 Thick, too I must have them thick." 
 
 " The pick-pocket, too, loves to have his fellow-creat 
 ures round him. Tut, man ! no one goes into the crowd 
 but for his end ; and the end of too many is the same as 
 the pick-pocket's a purse." 
 
 " Now, my dear fellow, how can you have the consci 
 ence to say that, when it is as much according to 
 natural law that men are social as sheep gregarious. 
 But grant that, in being social, each man has his end, 
 do you, upon the strength of that, do you yourself, I 
 say, mix with man, now, immediately, and be your 
 end a more genial philosophy. Come, let's take a 
 turn." 
 
 Again he offered his fraternal arm ; but the bachelor 
 once more flung it off, and, raising his rifle in energetic 
 invocation, cried : " Now the high-constable catch and 
 confound all knaves in towns and rats in grain-bins, and 
 
PHIL AX THRO PI ST AND MISANTHROPE. 215 
 
 if in this boat, which is a human grain-bin for the time, 
 any sly, smooth, philandering rat be dodging now, pin 
 him, thou high rat-catcher, against this rail." 
 
 " A noble burst ! shows you at heart a trump. And 
 when a card's that, little matters it whether it be spade 
 or diamond. You are good wine that, to be still better, 
 only needs a shaking up. Come, let's agree that we'll 
 to New Orleans, and there embark for London I stay 
 ing with my friends nigh Primrose-hill, and you putting 
 up at the Piazza, Covent Garden Piazza, Coven t Gar 
 den ; for tell me since you will not be a disciple 
 to the full tell me, was not that humor, of Diogenes, 
 which led him to live, a merry-andrew, in the flower- 
 market, better than that of the less wise Athenian, 
 which made him a skulking scare-crow in pine-barrens ? 
 An injudicious gentleman, Lord Timon." 
 
 " Your hand !" seizing it. 
 
 " Bless me, how cordial a squeeze. It is agreed we 
 shall be brothers, then ?" 
 
 " As much so as a brace of misanthropes can be," 
 with another and terrific squeeze. " I had thought that 
 the moderns had degenerated beneath the capacity of 
 misanthropy. Rejoiced, though but in one instance, 
 and that disguised, to be undeceived." 
 
 The other stared in blank amaze. 
 
 " Won't do. You are Diogenes, Diogenes in disguise. 
 I say Diogenes masquerading as a cosmopolitan." 
 
 With ruefully altered mien, the stranger still stood mute 
 awhile. At length, in a pained tone, spoke : " How hard 
 the lot of that pleader who, in his zeal conceding too 
 
216 THE CONFIDENCE- MAN. 
 
 much, is taken to belong to a side which he but labors, 
 however ineffectually, to convert !" Then with an 
 other change of air : " To you, an Ishmael, disguising 
 in sportiveness my intent, I came ambassador from the 
 human race, charged with the assurance that for your 
 mislike they bore no answering grudge, but sought to 
 conciliate accord between you and them. Yet you take 
 me not for the honest envoy, but I know not what sort 
 of unheard-of spy. Sir," he less lowly added, " this 
 mistaking of your man should teach you how you may 
 mistake all men. For God's sake," laying both hands 
 upon him, " get you confidence. See how distrust has 
 duped you. I, Diogenes ? I he who, going a step 
 beyond misanthropy, was less a man-hater than a man- 
 hooter ? Better were I stark and stiff!" 
 
 With which the philanthropist moved away less 
 lightsome than he had come, leaving the discomfited 
 misanthrope to the solitude he held so sapient. 
 
CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 THE COSMOPOLITAN MAKES AN ACQUAINTANCE. 
 
 IN the act of retiring, the cosmopolitan was met by a 
 passenger, who. with the bluff abord of the West, thus 
 addressed him, though a stranger. 
 
 " Queer 'coon, your friend. Had a little skrimmage 
 with him myself. Rather entertaining old 'coon, if he 
 wasn't so deuced analytical. Reminded me somehow of 
 what I've heard about Colonel John Moredock, of Illi 
 nois, only your friend ain't quite so good a fellow at 
 bottom, I should think." 
 
 It was in the semicircular porch of a cabin, opening 
 a recess from the deck, lit by a zoned lamp swung over 
 head, and sending its light vertically down, like the sun 
 at noon. Beneath the lamp stood the speaker, affording 
 to any one disposed to it no unfavorable chance for 
 scrutiny ; but the glance now resting on him betrayed 
 no such rudeness. 
 
 A man neither tall nor stout, neither short nor gaunt; 
 but with a body fitted, as by measure, to the service of 
 his mind. For the rest, one less favored perhaps in his 
 features than his clothes; and of these the beauty may. 
 have been less in the fit than the cut ; to say nothing of 
 
 10 
 
 ! 
 
218 THE CONFIDENCE-MAN. 
 
 the fineness of the nap, seeming out of keeping with 
 something the reverse of fine in the skin ; and the un- 
 suitableness of a violet vest, sending up sunset hues to 
 a countenance betokening a kind of bilious habit. 
 
 But, upon the whole, it could not be fairly said that 
 his appearance was unprepossessing ; indeed, to the con 
 genial, it would have been doubtless not uncongenial; 
 while to others, it could not fail to be at least curiously 
 interesting, from the warm air of florid cordiality, con 
 trasting itself with one knows not what kind of aguish 
 sallowness of saving discretion lurking behind it. Un 
 gracious critics might have thought that the manner 
 flushed the man, something in the same fictitious way 
 that the vest flushed the cheek. And though his teeth 
 were singularly good, those same ungracious ones might 
 have hinted that they were too good to be true ; or ra 
 ther, were not so good as they might be ; since the best 
 false tjpth are those made with at least two or three 
 blennWes, the more to look like life. But fortunately 
 for better constructions, no such critics had the stranger 
 now in eye ; only the cosmopolitan, who, after, in the 
 first place, acknowledging his advances with a mute sa 
 lute in which acknowledgment, if there seemed less of 
 spirit than in his way of accosting the Missourian, it was 
 probably because of the saddening sequel of that late in 
 terview thus now replied: " Colonel John Moredock," 
 repeating, the words abstractedly ; " that surname recalls 
 reminiscences. Pray," with enlivenecKair, " was he 
 anyway connected with the Moredocks of Moredock 
 Hall, Northamptonshire, England?" 
 
AN ACQUAINTANCE. 219 
 
 "I know no more of the Moredocks of Moredock Hall 
 than of the Burdocks of Burdock Hut," returned the 
 other, with the air somehow of one whose fortunes had 
 been of his own making ; "all I know is, that the late 
 Colonel John Moredock was a famous one in his time ; 
 eye like Lochiel's ; finger like a trigger; nerve like a cata 
 mount's ; and with but two little oddities seldom stir 
 red without his rifle, and hated Indians like snakes." 
 
 "Your Moredock, then, would seem a Moredock of 
 Misanthrope Hall the Woods. No very sleek creature, 
 the colonel, I fancy." 
 
 " Sleek or not, he was no uncombed one, but silky 
 bearded and curly headed, and to all but Indians juicy 
 as a peach. But Indians how the late Colonel John 
 Moredock, Indian-hater of Illinois, did hate Indians, to 
 be sure !" 
 
 " Never heard of such a thing. Hate Indians ? Why 
 should he or anybody else hate Indians? I admire 
 Indians. Indians I have always heard to be one of the 
 finest of the primitive races, possessed of many heroic 
 virtues. Some noble women, too. When I think of 
 Pocahontas, I am ready to love Indians. Then there's 
 Massasoit, and Philip of Mount Hope, and Tecumseh, 
 and Red-Jacket, and Logan all heroes ; and there's the 
 Five Nations, and Araucanians federations and commu 
 nities of heroes. God bless me ; hate Indians ? Surely 
 the late Colonel John Moredock must have wandered in, 
 his mind." 
 
 " Wandered in the woods considerably, but never 
 wandered elsewhere, that I ever heard." 
 
220 THE CONFIDENCE -MAN. 
 
 "Are you in earnest? Was there ever one who so 
 made it his particular mission to hate Indians that, to 
 designate him, a special word has been coined Indian- 
 hater ?" 
 
 " Even so." 
 
 " Dear me, you take it very calmly. But really, I 
 would like to know something about this Indian-hating. 
 I can hardly believe such a thing to be. Could you 
 favor me with a little history of the extraordinary man 
 you mentioned?" 
 
 " With all my heart," and immediately stepping from 
 the porch, gestured the cosmopolitan to a settee near 
 by, on deck. " There, sir, sit you there, and I will sit 
 here beside you you desire to hear of Colonel John 
 Moredock. Well, a day in my boyhood is marked with 
 a white stone the day I saw the colonel's rifle, pow 
 der-horn attached, hanging in a cabin on the West bank 
 of the Wabash river. I was going westward a long jour 
 ney through the wilderness with my father. It was 
 nigh noon, and we had stopped at the cabin to unsaddle 
 and bait. The man at the cabin pointed out the rifle, and 
 told whose it was, adding that the colonel was that 
 moment sleeping on wolf-skins in the corn-loft above, 
 so we must not talk very loud, for the colonel had been 
 out all night hunting (Indians, mind), and it would be 
 cruel to disturb his sleep. Curious 'to see one so famous, 
 we waited two hours over, in hopes he would come 
 forth ; but he did not. So, it being necessary to get to 
 the next cabin before nightfall, we had at last to ride off 
 without the wished- for satisfaction. Though, to tell the 
 
AN ACQUAINTANCE. 
 
 truth, I, for one, did not go away entirely ungratified, 
 for, while my father was watering the horses, I slipped 
 back into the cabin, and stepping a round or two up the 
 ladder, pushed my head through the trap, and peered 
 about. Not much light in the loft ; but off, in the fur 
 ther corner, I saw what I took to be the wolf-skins, and 
 on them a bundle of something, like a drift of leaves ; 
 and at one end, what seemed a moss-ball ; and over it, 
 deer-antlers branched ; and close by, a small squirrel 
 sprang out from a maple-bowl of nuts, brushed the moss- 
 ball with his tail, through a hole, and vanished, squeak 
 ing. That bit of woodland scene was all I saw. No 
 Colonel Moredock there, unless that moss-ball was his 
 curly head, seen in the back view. I would have gone 
 clear up, but the man below had warned me, that 
 though, from his camping habits, the colonel could sleep 
 through thunder, he was for the same cause amazing 
 quick to waken at the sound of footsteps, however soft, 
 and especially if human." 
 
 " Excuse me," said the other, softly laying his hand 
 on the narrator's wrist, " but I fear the colonel was of 
 a distrustful nature little or no confidence. He was a 
 little suspicious-minded, wasn't he ?" 
 
 "Not a bit. Knew too much. Suspected nobody, 
 but was not ignorant of Indians. Well : though, as 
 you may gather, I never fully saw the man, yet, have I, 
 one way and another, heard about as much of him as 
 any other ; in particular, have I heard his history again 
 and again from my father's friend, James Hall, the judge, 
 you know. In every company being called upon to 
 
222 THE CONFIDENCE- MAN. 
 
 give this history, which none could better do, the judge 
 at last fell into a style so methodic, you would have 
 thought he spoke less to mere auditors than to an invisible 
 amanuensis ; seemed talking for the press ; very impres 
 sive way with him indeed. And I, having an equally 
 impressible memory, think that, upon a pinch, I can 
 render you the judge upon the colonel almost word for 
 word." 
 
 " Do so, by all means," said the cosmopolitan, well 
 pleased. 
 
 " Shall I give you the judge's philosophy, and all ?" 
 
 " As to that," rejoined the other gravely, pausing over 
 the pipe-bowl he was filling, "the desirableness, to a 
 man of a certain mind, of having another man's philoso 
 phy given, depends considerably upon what school of 
 philosophy that other man belongs to. Of what school 
 or system was the judge, pray ?" 
 
 " Why, though he knew how to read and write, the 
 judge never had much schooling. But, I should say he 
 belonged, if anything, to the free-school system. Yes, a 
 true patriot, the judge went in strong for free-schools." 
 
 " In philosophy? The man of a certain mind, then, 
 while respecting the judge's patriotism, and not blind 
 to the judge's capacity for narrative, such as he may 
 prove to have, might, perhaps, with prudence, waive an 
 opinion of the judge's probable philosophy. But I am 
 no rigorist ; proceed, I beg ; his philosophy or not, as 
 you please." 
 
 " Well, I would mostly skip that part, only, to begin, 
 some reconnoitering of the ground in a philosophical 
 
AN ACQUAINTANCE. 223 
 
 way the judge always deemed indispensable with stran 
 gers. For you must know that Indian-hating was no 
 monopoly of Colonel Moredock's; but a passion, in one 
 form or other, and to a degree, greater or less, largely 
 shared among the class to which he belonged. And 
 Indian-hating still exists ; and, no doubt, will continue 
 to exist, so long as Indians do. Indian-hating, then, 
 shall be my first theme, and Colonel Moredock, the In 
 dian-hater, my next and last." 
 
 With which the stranger, settling himself in his seat, 
 commenced the hearer paying marked regard, slowly 
 smoking, his glance, meanwhile, steadfastly abstracted 
 towards the deck, but his right ear so disposed towards 
 the speaker that each word came through as little at 
 mospheric intervention as possible. To intensify the 
 sense of hearing, he seemed to sink the sense of sight. 
 No complaisance of mere speech could have been so 
 flattering, or expressed such striking politeness as this 
 mute eloquence of thoroughly digesting attention. 
 
CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 CONTAINING THE METAPHYSICS OF INDIAN-HATING, ACCORDING TO THE 
 VIEWS OP ONE EVIDENTLY NOT SO PREPOSSESSED AS ROUSSEAU IN 
 FAVOR OF SAVAGES. 
 
 " THE judge always began in these words : ' The 
 backwoodsman's hatred of the Indian has been a topic 
 for some remark. In the earlier times of the frontier 
 the passion was thought to be readily accounted for. 
 But Indian rapine having mostly ceased through regions 
 where it once prevailed, the philanthropist is surprised 
 that Indian-hating has not in like degree ceased with it. 
 He wonders why the backwoodsman still regards the 
 red man in much the same spirit that a jury does a 
 murderer, or a trapper a wild cat a creature, in whose 
 behalf mercy were not wisdom ; truce is vain ; he must 
 be executed. 
 
 " 'A curious point,' the judge would continue, * which 
 perhaps not everybody, even upon explanation, may fully 
 understand ; while, in order for any one to approach to 
 an understanding, it is necessary for him to learn, or if 
 he already know, to bear in mind, what manner of man 
 the backwoodsman is ; as for what manner of man the 
 Indian is, many know, either from history or experience. 
 
THE METAPHYSICS OP INDIAN-HATING. 225 
 
 " * The backwoodsman is a lonely man. He is a thought 
 ful man. He is a man strong and unsophisticated. Im 
 pulsive, he is what some might call unprincipled. At 
 any rate, he is self-willed ; being one who less hearkens 
 to what others may say about things, than looks for 
 himself, to see what are things themselves. If in straits, 
 there are few to help ; he must depend upon himself; 
 he must continually look to himself. Hence self-reli 
 ance, to the degree of standing by his own judgment, 
 though it stand alone. Not that he deems himself 
 infallible ; too many mistakes in following trails prove 
 the contrary ; but he thinks that nature destines such 
 sagacity as she has given him, as she destines it to the 
 'possum. To these fellow-beings of the wilds their 
 untutored sagacity is their best dependence. If with 
 either it prove faulty, if the 'possum's betray it to the 
 trap, or the backwoodsman's mislead him into ambuscade, 
 there are consequences to be undergone, but no self- 
 blame. As with the 'possum, instincts prevail with 
 the backwoodsman over precepts. Like the 'possum, 
 the backwoodsman presents the spectacle of a creature 
 dwelling exclusively among the works of God, yet 
 these, truth must confess, breed little in him of a godly 
 mind. Small bowing and scraping is his, further than 
 when with bent knee he points his rifle, or picks its 
 flint. With few companions, solitude by necessity his 
 lengthened lot, he stands the trial no slight one, since, 
 next to dying, solitude, rightly borne, is perhaps of for 
 titude the moat rigorous test. But not merely is the 
 
 backwoodsman content to be alone, but in no few cases 
 10* 
 
226 THE CONFIDENCE-MAN. 
 
 is anxious to be so. The sight of smoke ten miles off is 
 provocation to one more remove from man, one step 
 deeper into nature. Is it that he feels that whatever man 
 may be, man is not the universe ? that glory, beauty, 
 kindness, are not all engrossed by him ? that as the 
 presence of man frights birds away, so, many bird-like 
 thoughts ? Be that how it will, the backwoodsman is 
 not without some fineness to his nature. Hairy Orson as 
 he looks, it may be with him as with the Shetland seal 
 beneath the bristles lurks the fur. 
 
 " ' Though held in a sort a barbarian, the backwoods 
 man would seem to America what Alexander was to 
 Asia captain in the vanguard of conquering civilization. 
 Whatever the nation's growing opulence or power, does 
 it not lackey his heels ? Pathfinder, provider of secur 
 ity to those who come after him, for himself he asks 
 nothing but hardship. Worthy to be compared with 
 Moses in the Exodus, or the Emperor Julian in Gaul, 
 who on foot, and bare-browed, at the head of covered 
 or mounted legions, marched so through the elements, 
 day after day. The tide of emigration, let it roll as it 
 will, never overwhelms the backwoodsman into itself; 
 he rides upon advance, as the Polynesian upon the comb 
 of the surf. 
 
 " ' Thus, though he keep moving on through life, he 
 maintains with respect to nature much the same unal 
 tered relation throughout ; with her creatures, too, 
 including panthers and Indians. Hence, it is not 
 unlikely that, accurate as the theory of the Peace Con 
 gress may be with respect to those two varieties of 
 
THE METAPHYSICS OP I N D I AN -H AT I N G. 227 
 
 beings, among others, yet the backwoodsman might be 
 qualified to throw out some practical suggestions. 
 
 " 'As the child born to a backwoodsman must in turn 
 lead his father's life a life which, as related to human 
 ity, is related mainly to Indians it is thought best 
 not to mince matters, out of delicacy ; but to tell the boy 
 pretty plainly what an Indian is, and what he must ex 
 pect from him. For however charitable it may be to 
 view Indians as members of the Society of Friends, yet 
 to affirm them such to one ignorant of Indians, whose 
 lonely path lies a long way through their lands, this, in 
 the event, might prove not only injudicious but cruel. 
 At least something of this kind would seem the maxim 
 upon which backswoods' education is based. Accord 
 ingly, if in youth the backwoodsman .incline to know 
 ledge, as is generally the case, he hears little from his 
 schoolmasters, the old chroniclers of the forest, but his 
 tories of Indian lying, Indian theft, Indian double- 
 dealing, Indian fraud and perfidy, Indian want of 
 conscience, Indian blood-thirstiness, Indian diabolism 
 histories which, though of wild woods, are almost as 
 full of things unangelic as the Newgate Calendar or the 
 Annals of Europe. In these Indian narratives and tra 
 ditions the lad is thoroughly grounded. " As the twig 
 is bent the tree's inclined." The instinct of antipathy 
 against an Indian grows in the backwoodsman with the 
 sense of good and bad, right and wrong. In one breath 
 he learns that a brother is to be loved, and an Indian to 
 be hated. 
 
 " 'Such are the facts,' the judge would say, 'upon 
 
228 THE CONFIDENCE-MAN. 
 
 which, if one seek to moralize, he must do so with an 
 eye to them. It is terrible that one creature should so 
 regard another, should make it conscience to abhor an 
 entire race. It is terrible ; but is it surprising ? Sur 
 prising, that one should hate a race which he believes to 
 be red from a cause akin to that which makes some tribes 
 of garden insects green ? A race whose name is upon 
 the frontier a memento mori; painted to him in every evil 
 light ; now a horse-thief like those in Moyamensing ; 
 now an assassin like a New York rowdy ; now a treaty- 
 breaker like an Austrian ; now a Palmer with poisoned 
 arrows; now a judicial murderer and Jeffries, after a 
 fierce farce of trial condemning his victim to bloody 
 death ; or a Jew with hospitable speeches cozening 
 some fainting stranger into ambuscade, there to burk 
 him, and account it a deed grateful to Manitou, his god. 
 " ' Still, all this is less advanced as truths of the Indians 
 than as examples of the backwoodsman's impression of 
 them in which the charitable may think he does them 
 some injustice. Certain it is, the Indians themselves 
 think so ; quite unanimously, too. The Indians, in 
 deed, protest against the backwoodsman's view of 
 them ; and some think that one cause of their returning 
 his antipathy so sincerely as they do, is their moral in 
 dignation at being so libeled by him, as they really be 
 lieve and say. But whether, on this or any point, the 
 Indians should be permitted to testify for themselves, 
 to- the exclusion of other testimony, is a question that 
 may be left to the Supreme Court. At any rate, it has 
 been observed that when an Indian becomes a genuine 
 
THE METAPHYSICS OF INDIAN- HATING. 229 
 
 proselyte to Christianity (such cases, however, not being 
 very many; though, indeed, entire tribes are sometimes 
 nominally brought to the true light,) he will not in that 
 case conceal his enlightened conviction, that his race's 
 portion by nature is total depravity ; and. in that way, 
 as much as admits that the backwoodsman's worst idea 
 of it is not very far from true ; while, on the other hand, 
 those red men who are the greatest sticklers for the 
 theory of Indian virtue, and Indian loving-kindness, are 
 sometimes the arrantest horse-thieves and tomahawkers 
 among them. So, at least, avers the backwoodsman. 
 And though, knowing the Indian nature, as he thinks he 
 does, he fancies he is not ignorant that an Indian may 
 in some points deceive himself almost as effectually as in 
 bush-tactics he can another, yet his theory and his prac 
 tice as above contrasted seem to involve an inconsistency 
 so extreme, that the backwoodsman only accounts for it 
 on the supposition that when a tomahawking red-man 
 advances the notion of the benignity of the red race, it 
 it but part and parcel with that subtle strategy which 
 he finds so useful in war, in hunting, and the general 
 conduct of life.' 
 
 " In further explanation of that deep abhorrence with 
 which the backwoodsman regards the savage, the judge 
 used to think it might perhaps a little help, to consider 
 what kind of stimulus to it is furnished in those forest 
 histories and traditions before spoken of. In which be 
 half, he would tell the story of the little colony of 
 Wrights and Weavers, originally seven cousins from Vir 
 ginia, who, after successive removals with their families, 
 
230 THE CONFIDENCE-MAN. 
 
 at last established themselves near the southern frontier 
 of the Bloody Ground, Kentucky: 'They were strong, 
 brave men ; but, unlike many of the pioneers in those 
 days, theirs was no love of conflict for conflict's sake. 
 Step by step they had been lured to their lonely resting- 
 place by the ever-beckoning seductions of a fertile and 
 virgin land, with a singular exemption, during the march, 
 from Indian molestation. But clearings made and 
 houses built, the bright shield was soon to turn its other 
 side. After repeated persecutions and eventual hostili 
 ties, forced on them by a dwindled tribe in their neigh 
 borhood persecutions resulting in loss of crops and 
 cattle; hostilities in which they lost two of their num 
 ber, illy to be spared, besides others getting painful 
 wounds the five remaining cousins made, with some 
 serious concessions, a kind of treaty with Mocmohoc, 
 the chief being to this induced by the harryings of 
 the enemy, leaving them no peace. But they were 
 further prompted, indeed, first incited, by the suddenly 
 changed ways of Mocmohoc, who, though hitherto 
 deemed a savage almost perfidious as Caesar Borgia, yet 
 now put on a seeming the reverse of this, engaging to 
 bury the hatchet, smoke the pipe, and be friends for 
 ever ; not friends in the mere sense of renouncing 
 enmity, but in the sense of kindliness, active and fami 
 liar. 
 
 " ' But what the chief now seemed, did not wholly 
 blind them to what the chief had been ; so that, though 
 in no small degree influenced by his change of bearing, 
 they still distrusted him enough to covenant with him, 
 
THE METAPHYSICS OF INDIAN-HATING. 231 
 
 among other articles on their side, that though friendly 
 visits should be exchanged between the wigwams and 
 the cabins, yet the five cousins should never, on any 
 account, be expected to enter the chief's lodge together. 
 The intention was, though they reserved it, that if ever, 
 under the guise of amity, the chief should mean them 
 mischief, and effect it, it should be but partially ; so that 
 some of the five might survive, not only for their families' 
 sake, but also for retribution's. Nevertheless, Moc- 
 mohoc did, upon a time, with such fine art and pleas 
 ing carriage win their confidence, that he brought them 
 all together to a feast of bear's meat, and there, by strata 
 gem, ended them. Years after, over their calcined bones 
 and those of all their families, the chief, reproached for 
 his treachery by a proud hunter whom he had made cap 
 tive, jeered out, "Treachery? pale face! 'Twas they 
 who broke their covenant first, in coming all together ; 
 they that broke it first, in trusting Mocmohoc." ' 
 
 " At this point the judge would pause, and lifting his 
 hand, and rolling his eyes, exclaim in a solemn enough 
 voice, * Circling wiles and bloody lusts. The acuteness 
 and genius of the chief but make him the more atro 
 cious.' 
 
 " After another pause, he would begin an imaginary 
 kind of dialogue between a backwoodsman and a ques 
 tioner : 
 
 " ' But are all Indians like Mocmohoc ? Not all have 
 proved such ; but in the least harmful may lie his germ. 
 There is an Indian nature. " Indian blood is in me," is the 
 half-breed's threat. But are not some Indians kind ? 
 
232 THE CONFIDENCE-MAN. 
 
 Yes, but kind Indians are mostly lazy, and reputed sim 
 ple at all events, are seldom chiefs ; chiefs among the 
 red men being taken from the active, and those ac 
 counted wise. Hence, with small promotion, kind In 
 dians have but proportionate influence. And kind 
 Indians may be forced to do unkind biddings. So " be 
 ware the Indian, kind or unkind," said Daniel Boone, who 
 lost his sons by them. But, have all you backwoods 
 men been some way victimized by Indians? No. Well, 
 and in certain cases may not at least some few of you be 
 favored by them ? Yes, but scarce one among us so 
 self-important, or so selfish-minded, as to hold his per 
 sonal exemption from Indian outrage such a set-off 
 against the contrary experience of so many others, as 
 that he must needs, in a general way, think well of In 
 dians ; or, if he do, an arrow in his flank might suggest a 
 pertinent doubt, 
 
 " * In short,' according to the judge, * if we at all credit 
 the backwoodsman, his feeling against Indians, to be 
 taken aright, must be considered as being not so much 
 on his own account as on others', or jointly on both 
 accounts. True it is, scarce a family he knows but some 
 member of it, or connection, has been by Indians maimed 
 or scalped. What avails, then, that some one Indian, or 
 some two or three, treat a backwoodsman friendly-like ? 
 He fears me, he thinks. Take my rifle from me, give 
 him motive, and what will come? Or if not so, how 
 know I what involuntary preparations may be going 
 on in him for things as unbeknown in present time to 
 him as me a sort of chemical preparation in the soul 
 
THE METAPHYSICS OF INDIAN- HATING. 233 
 
 for malice, as chemical preparation in the body for 
 malady.' 
 
 " Not that the backwoodsman ever used those words, 
 you see, but the judge found him expression for his 
 meaning. And this point he would conclude with say 
 ing, that, ' what is called a " friendly Indian"' is a very rare 
 sort of creature ; and well it was so, for no ruthless- 
 ness exceeds that of- a " friendly Indian" turned enemy. 
 A coward friend, he makes a valiant foe. 
 
 " ' But, thus far the passion in question has been 
 viewed in a general way as that of a community. When 
 to his due share of this the backwoodsman adds his pri 
 vate passion, we have then the stock out of which is 
 formed, if formed at all, the Indian-hater par excel 
 lence? 
 
 " The Indian-hater par excellence the judge defined to 
 be one who, having with his mother's milk drank in 
 small love for red men, in youth or early manhood, ere 
 the sensibilities become osseous, receives at their hand 
 some signal outrage, or, which in effect is much the same, 
 some of his kin have, or some friend. Now, nature 
 all around him by her solitudes wooing or bidding him 
 muse upon this matter, he accordingly does so, till the 
 thought develops such attraction, that much as strag 
 gling vapors troop from all sides to a storm-cloud, so 
 straggling thoughts of other outrages troop to the nu 
 cleus thought, assimilate with it, and swell it. At last, 
 taking counsel with the elements, he comes to his reso 
 lution. An intenser Hannibal, he makes a vow, the hate 
 of which is a vortex from whose suction scarce the 
 
234 THE CONFIDENCE-MAN. 
 
 remotest chip of the guilty race may reasonably feel 
 secure. Next, he declares himself and settles his tem 
 poral affairs. With the solemnity of a Spaniard turned 
 monk, he takes leave of his kin ; or rather, these leave- 
 takings have something of the still more impressive 
 finality of death-bed adieus. Last, he commits himself 
 to the forest primeval ; there, so long as life shall be his, 
 to act upon a calm, cloistered scheme of strategical, im 
 placable, and lonesome vengeance. Ever on the noise 
 less trail ; cool, collected, patient ; less seen than felt ; 
 snuffing, smelling a Leather-stocking Nemesis. In the 
 settlements he will not be seen again ; in eyes of old 
 companions tears may start at some chance thing that 
 speaks of him ; but they never look for him, nor call ; 
 they know he will not come. Suns and seasons fleet ; 
 the tiger-lily blows and falls ; babes are born and leap in 
 their mothers' arms ; but, the Indian-hater is good as 
 gone to his long home, and " Terror" is his epitaph.' 
 
 " Here the judge, not unaffected, would pause again, 
 but presently resume : * How evident that in strict speech 
 there can be no biography of an Indian-hater par excel 
 lence, any more than one of a sword-fish, or other deep- 
 sea denizen ; or, which is still less imaginable, one of a 
 dead man. The career of the Indian-hater par excellence 
 has the impenetrability of the fate of a lost steamer. 
 Doubtless, events, terrible ones, have happened, must 
 have happened ; but the powers that be in nature have 
 taken order that they shall never become news. 
 
 " ' But, luckily for the curious, there is a species of di 
 luted Indian-hater, one whose heart proves not so steely 
 
THE METAPHYSICS OF I ND I A N -H A T IN G . 235 
 
 as his brain. Soft enticements of domestic life too 
 often draw him from the ascetic trail ; a monk who 
 apostatizes to the world at times. Like a mariner, too, 
 though much abroad, he may have a wife and family in 
 some green harbor which he does not forget. It is with 
 him as with the Papist converts in Senegal ; fasting and 
 mortification prove hard to bear.' 
 
 u The judge, with his usual judgment, always thought 
 that the intense solitude to which the Indian- hater con 
 signs himself, has, by its overawing influence, no little 
 to do with relaxing his vow. He would relate in 
 stances where, after some months' lonely scoutings, the 
 Indian-hater is suddenly seized with a sort of calenture ; 
 hurries openly towards the first smoke, though he knows 
 it is an Indian's, announces himself as a lost hunter, 
 gives the savage his rifle, throws himself upon his chari 
 ty, embraces him with much affection, imploring the 
 privilege of living a while in his sweet companionship. 
 What is too often the sequel of so distempered a proced 
 ure may be best known by those who best know the 
 Indian. Upon the whole, the judge, by two and thirty 
 good and sufficient reasons, would maintain that there 
 was no known vocation whose consistent following calls 
 for such self-containings as that of the Indian-hater par 
 excellence. In the highest view, he considered such a soul 
 one peeping out but once an age. 
 
 "For the diluted Indian-hater, although the vacations 
 he permits himself impair the keeping of the character, 
 yet, it should not be overlooked that this is the man 
 who, by his very infirmity, enables us to form surmises, 
 
236 THE CONFIDENCE-MAN. 
 
 however inadequate, of what Indian-hating in its perfec 
 tion is." 
 
 " One moment," gently interrupted the cosmopolitan 
 here, "and let me refill my calumet." 
 
 Which being done, the other proceeded : 
 
CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 SOME ACCOUNT OF A MAN OF QUESTIONABLE MORALITY, BUT WHO, NEVER 
 THELESS, WOULD SEEM ENTITLED TO THE ESTEEM OF THAT EMINENT 
 ENGLISH MORALIST WHO SAID HE LIKED A GOOD HATER. 
 
 " COMING to mention the man to whose story all thus 
 far said was but the introduction, the judge, who, like 
 you, was a great smoker, would insist upon all the com 
 pany taking cigars, and then lighting a fresh one him 
 self, rise in his place, and, with the solemnest voice, say 
 ' Gentlemen, let us smoke to the memory of Colonel John 
 Moredock ;' when, after several whiffs taken standing in 
 deep silence and deeper reverie, he would resume his 
 seat and his discourse, something in these words : 
 
 " 'Though Colonel John Moredock was not an Indian- 
 hater par excellence, he yet cherished a kind of sentiment 
 towards the red man, and in that degree, and so acted 
 out his sentiment as sufficiently to merit the tribute 
 just rendered to his memory. 
 
 " * John Moredock was the son of a woman married 
 thrice, and thrice widowed by a tomahawk. The three 
 successive husbands of this woman had been pioneers, 
 and with them she had wandered from wilderness to 
 wilderness, always on the frontier. With nine children, 
 
23S THE CONFIDENCE-MAN. 
 
 she at last found herself at a little clearing, afterwards 
 Vincennes. There she joined a company about to re 
 move to the new country of Illinois. On the eastern 
 side of Illinois there were then no settlements ; but on 
 the west side, the shore of the Mississippi, there were, 
 near the mouth of the Kaskaskia, some old hamlets 
 of French. To the vicinity of those hamlets, very inno 
 cent and pleasant places, a new Arcadia, Mrs. Moredock's 
 party was destined ; for thereabouts, among the vines, 
 they meant to settle. They embarked upon the Wa- 
 bash in boats, proposing descending that stream intg the 
 Ohio, and the Ohio into the Mississippi, and so, north 
 wards, towards the point to be reached. All went well 
 till they made the rock of the Grand Tower on the Mis 
 sissippi, where they had to land and drag their boats 
 round a point swept by a strong current. Here a party 
 of Indians, lying in wait, rushed out and murdered 
 nearly all of them. The widow was among the victims 
 with her children, John excepted, who, some fifty miles 
 distant, was following with a second party. 
 
 " * He was just entering upon manhood, when thus left 
 in nature sole survivor of his race. Other youngsters 
 might have turned mourners ; he turned avenger. 
 His nerves were electric wires sensitive, but steel. He 
 was one who, from self-possession, could be made neither 
 to flush nor pale. It is said that when the tidings 
 were brought him, he was ashore sitting beneath a hem 
 lock eating his dinner of venison and as the tidings 
 were told him, after the first start he kept on eating, 
 but slowly and deliberately, chewing the wild news 
 
A MAN OF QUESTIONABLE MORALITY. 239 
 
 with the wild meat, as if both together, turned to chyle, 
 together should sinew him to his intent. From that meal 
 he rose an Indian-hater. He rose ; got his arms, prevailed 
 upon some comrades to join him, and without delay 
 started to discover who were the actual transgressors. 
 They proved to belong to a band of twenty renegades 
 from various tribes, outlaws even among Indians, and 
 who had formed themselves into a maurauding crew. 
 No opportunity for action being at the time presented, 
 he dismissed his friends ; told them to go on, thanking 
 them, and saying he would ask their aid at some future 
 day. For upwards of a year, alone in the wilds, he 
 watched the crew. Once, what he thought a favorable 
 chance having occurred it being midwinter, and the 
 savages encamped, apparently to remain so he anew 
 mustered his friends, and marched against them ; but, 
 getting wind of his coming, the enemy fled, and in 
 such panic that everything was left behind but their 
 weapons. During the winter, much the same thing 
 happened upon two subsequent occasions. The next 
 year he sought them at the head of a party pledged to 
 serve him for forty days. At last the hour came. It 
 was on the shore of the Mississippi. From their covert, 
 Moredock and his men dimly descried the gang of Cains 
 in the red dusk of evening, paddling over to a jungled 
 island in mid-stream, there the more securely to lodge ; 
 for Moredock's retributive spirit in the wilderness spoke 
 ever to their trepidations now r like the voice calling 
 through the garden. Waiting until dead of night, the 
 whites swam the river, towing after them a raft laden 
 
240 THE CONFIDENCE-MAN. 
 
 with their arms. On landing, Moredock cut the fasten 
 ings of the enemy's canoes, and turned them, with his 
 own raft, adrift ; resolved that there should be neither 
 escape for the Indians, nor safety, except in victory, for 
 the whites. Victorious the whites were ; but three of 
 the Indians saved themselves by taking to the stream. 
 Moredock's band lost not a man. 
 
 " * Three of the murderers survived. He knew their 
 names and persons. In the course of three years each 
 successively fell by his own hand. All were now dead. 
 But this did not suffice. He made no avowal, but to 
 kill Indians had become his passion. As an athlete, he 
 had few equals ; as a shot, none ; in single combat, not 
 to be beaten. Master of that woodland-cunning enabling 
 the adept to subsist where the tyro would perish, and 
 expert in all those arts by which an enemy is pursued 
 for weeks, perhaps months, without once suspecting it, 
 he kept to the forest. The solitary Indian that met him, 
 died. When a murder was descried, he would either 
 secretly pursue their track for some chance to strike at 
 least one blow ; or if, while thus engaged, he himself 
 was discovered, he would elude them by superior skill. 
 
 " * Many years he spent thus ; and though after a time 
 he was, in a degree, restored to the ordinary life of the 
 region and period, yet it is believed that John Moredock 
 never let pass an opportunity of quenching an Indian. 
 Sins of commission in that kind may have been his, but 
 none of omission. 
 
 " ' It were to err to suppose,' the judge would say, ' that 
 this gentleman was naturally ferocious, or peculiarly 
 
A MAN OF QUESTIONABLE MORALITY. 241 
 
 possessed of those qualities, which, unhelped by provo 
 cation of events, tend to withdraw man from social life. 
 On the contrary, Moredock was an example, of something 
 apparently self-contradicting, certainly curious, but, at 
 the same time, undeniable : namely, that nearly all In 
 dian-haters have at bottom loving hearts; at any rate, 
 hearts, if anything, more generous than the average. 
 Certain it is, that, to the degree in which he mingled in 
 the life of the settlements, Moredock showed himself 
 not without humane feelings. No cold husband or colder 
 father, he ; and, though often and long away from his 
 household, bore its needs in mind, and provided for them. 
 He could be very convivial ; told a good story (though 
 never of his more private exploits), and sung a capital 
 song. Hospitable, not backward to help a neighbor ; by 
 report, benevolent, as retributive, in secret; while, in a 
 general manner, though sometimes grave as is not un 
 usual with men of his complexion, a sultry and tragical 
 brown yet with nobody, Indians excepted, otherwise 
 than courteous in a manly fashion ; a moccasined 
 gentleman, admired and loved. In fact, no one more 
 popular, as an incident to follow may prove. 
 
 " * His bravery, whether in Indian fight or any other, 
 was unquestionable. An officer in the ranging service 
 during the war of 1812, he acquitted himself with more 
 than credit. Of his soldierly character, this anecdote is 
 told : Not long after Hull's dubious surrender at Detroit, 
 Moredock with some of his rangers rode up at night to a 
 log-house, there to rest till morning. The horses being 
 
 attended to, supper over, and sleeping-places assigned 
 11 
 
242 THE CONFIDENCE-MAN. 
 
 the troop, the host showed the colonel his best bed, 
 not on the ground like the rest, but a bed that stood on 
 legs. But out of delicacy, the guest declined to mono 
 polize it, or, indeed, to occupy it at all ; when, to increase 
 the inducement, as the host thought, he was told that a 
 general officer had once slept in that bed. " Who, pray ?" 
 asked the colonel. " General Hull." " Then you must 
 not take offense," said the colonel, buttoning up his coat, 
 " but, really, no coward's bed, for me, however comfort 
 able." Accordingly he took up with valor's bed a cold 
 one on the ground. 
 
 " ' At one time the colonel was a member of the ter 
 ritorial council of Illinois, ands at the formation of the 
 state government, was pressed to become candidate for 
 governor, but begged to be excused. And, though he 
 declined to give his reasons for declining, yet by those 
 who best knew him the cause was not wholly unsur- 
 mised. In his official capacity he might be called upon 
 to enter into friendly treaties with Indian tribes, a thing 
 not to be thought of. And even did no such contingen 
 cy arise, yet he felt there would be an impropriety in 
 the Governor of Illinois stealing out now and then, 
 during a recess of the legislative bodies, for a few days' 
 shooting at human beings, within the limits of his pa 
 ternal chief-magistracy. If the governorship offered large 
 honors, from Moredock it demanded larger sacrifices. 
 These were incompatibles. In short, he was not una 
 ware that to be a consistent Indian-hater involves the 
 renunciation of ambition, with its objects the pomps 
 and glories of the world ; and since religion, pronouncing 
 
A MAN OF QUESTIONABLE MORALITY. 243 
 
 such things vanities, accounts it merit to renounce them, 
 therefore, so far as this goes, Indian-hating, whatever 
 may be thought of it in other respects, may be regarded 
 as not wholly without the efficacy of a devout senti 
 ment.' " 
 
 Here the narrator paused. Then, after his long and 
 irksome sitting, started to his feet, and regulating his 
 disordered shirt-frill, and at the same time adjustingly 
 shaking his legs down in his rumpled pantaloons, con 
 cluded : " There, I have done ; having given you, not 
 my story, mind, or my thoughts, but another's. And 
 now, for your friend Coonskins, I doubt not, that, if the 
 judge were here, he would pronounce him a sort of 
 comprehensive Colonel Moredock, who, too much spread 
 ing his passion, shallows it." 
 
CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 MOOT POINTS TOUCHING THE LATE COLONEL JOHN MOREDOCK. 
 
 " CHARITY, charity !" exclaimed the cosmopolitan, 
 "never a sound judgment without charity. When man 
 judges man, charity is less a bounty from our mercy 
 than just allowance for the insensible lee-way of human 
 fallibility. God forbid that my eccentric friend should 
 be what you hint. You do not know him, or but im 
 perfectly. His outside deceived you ; at first it came 
 near deceiving even me. But I seized a chance, when, 
 owing to indignation against some wrong, he laid him 
 self a little open ; I seized that lucky chance, I say, to 
 inspect his heart, and found it an inviting oyster in a for 
 bidding shell. His outside is but put on. Ashamed of his 
 own goodness, he treats mankind as those strange old 
 uncles in romances do their nephews snapping at them 
 all the time and yet loving them as the apple of their 
 eye." 
 
 " Well, my words with him were few. Perhaps he is 
 not what I took him for. Yes, for aught I know, you 
 may be right." 
 
 " Glad to hear it. Charity, like poetry, should be 
 cultivated, if only for its being graceful. And now, since 
 
MOOT POINTS. 245 
 
 you have renounced your notion, I should be happy 
 would you, so to speak, renounce your story, too. That 
 story strikes me with even more incredulity than won 
 der. To me some parts don't hang together. If the 
 man of hate, how could John Moredock be also the 
 man of love ? Either his lone campaigns are fabu 
 lous as Hercules' ; or else, those being true, what was 
 thrown in about his geniality is but garnish. In short, 
 if ever there was such a man as Moredock, he, in my 
 way of thinking, was either misanthrope or nothing ; 
 and his misanthropy the more intense from being focus 
 ed on one race of men. Though, like suicide, man- 
 hatred would seem peculiarly a Roman and a Grecian 
 passion that is, Pagan ; yet, the annals of neither Rome 
 nor Greece can produce the equal in man-hatred of 
 Colonel Moredock, as the judge and you have painted 
 him. As for this Indian-hating in general, I can only 
 say of it what Dr. Johnson said of the alleged Lisbon 
 earthquake : ' Sir, I don't believe it.' " 
 
 "Didn't believe it? Why not ? Clashed with any 
 little prejudice of his ?" 
 
 " Doctor Johnson had no prejudice; but, like a cer 
 tain other person," with an ingenuous smile, " he had 
 sensibilities, and those were pained." 
 
 " Dr. Johnson was a good Christian, wasn't he ?" 
 
 " He was." 
 
 " Suppose he had been something else." 
 
 " Then small incredulity as to the alleged earth 
 quake." 
 
 " Suppose he had been also a misanthrope ?" 
 
246 THE CONFIDENCE-MAN. 
 
 " Then small incredulity as to the robberies and mur 
 ders alleged to have been perpetrated under the pall of 
 smoke and ashes. The infidels of the time were quick 
 to credit those reports and worse. So true is it that, 
 while religion, contrary to the common notion, implies, 
 in certain cases, a spirit of slow reserve as to assent, 
 infidelity, which claims to despise credulity, is some 
 times swift to it." 
 
 "You rather jumble together misanthropy and in 
 fidelity." 
 
 " I do not jumble them ; they are coordinates. For 
 misanthropy, springing from the same root with dis 
 belief of religion, is twin with that. It springs from 
 the same root, I say ; for, set aside materialism, and 
 what is an atheist, but one who does not, or will not, 
 see in the universe a ruling principle of love ; and 
 what a misanthrope, but one who does not, or will 
 not, see in man a ruling principle of kindness ? Don't 
 you see ? In either case the vice consists in a want of 
 confidence." 
 
 " What sort of a sensation is misanthropy ?" 
 
 " Might as well ask me what sort of sensation is 
 hydrophobia. Don't know; never had it. But I have 
 often wondered what it can be like. Can a misan 
 thrope feel warm, I ask myself ; take ease ? be com 
 panionable with himself? Can a misanthrope smoke 
 a cigar and muse ? How fares he in solitude ? Has 
 the misanthrope such a thing as an appetite ? Shall a 
 peach refresh him ? The effervescence of champagne, 
 with what eye does he behold it ? Is summer good to 
 
MOOT POINTS. 247 
 
 him ? Of long winters how much can he sleep ? What 
 are his dreams ? How feels he, and what does he, when 
 suddenly awakened, alone, at dead of night, by fusilades 
 of thunder?" 
 
 " Like you," said the stranger, " I can't understand the 
 misanthrope. So far as my experience goes, either man 
 kind is worthy one's best love, or else I have been lucky. 
 Never has it been my lot to have been wronged, though 
 but in the smallest degree. Cheating, backbiting, su 
 perciliousness, disdain, hard-heartedness, and all that 
 brood, I know but by report. Cold regards tossed over 
 the sinister shoulder of a former friend, ingratitude in 
 a beneficiary, treachery in a confidant such things may 
 be ; but I must take somebody's word for it. Now the 
 bridge that has carried me so well over, shall I not 
 praise it ?" 
 
 " Ingratitude to the worthy bridge not to do so. 
 Man is a noble fellow, and in an age of satirists, I am 
 not displeased to find one who has confidence in him, 
 and bravely stands up for him." 
 
 " Yes, I always speak a good word for man ; and what 
 is more, am always ready to do a good deed for 
 him." 
 
 " You are a man after my own heart," responded the 
 cosmopolitan, with a candor which lost nothing by its 
 calmness. " Indeed," he added, " our sentiments agree 
 so, that were they written in a book, whose was whose, 
 few but the nicest critics might determine." 
 
 " Since we are thus joined in mind," said the stranger, 
 " why not be joined in hand ?" 
 
248 THE CONFIDENCE -MAN. 
 
 " My hand is always at the service of virtue," frankly 
 extending it to him as to virtue personified. 
 
 " And now," said the stranger, cordially retaining his 
 hand, " you know our fashion here at the West. It may 
 be a little low, but it is kind. Briefly, we being newly- 
 made friends must drink together. What say you ?" 
 
 " Thank you ; but indeed, you must excuse me." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 "Because, to tell the truth, I have to-day met so 
 many old friends, all free-hearted, convivial gentlemen, 
 that really, really, though for the present I succeed in 
 mastering it, I am at bottom almost in the condition of 
 a sailor who, stepping ashore after a long voyage, ere 
 night reels with loving welcomes, his head of less capa 
 city than his heart." 
 
 At the allusion to old friends, the stranger's counte 
 nance a little fell, as a jealous lover's might at hearing 
 from his sweetheart of former ones. But rallying, he 
 said: " No doubt they treated you to something strong; 
 but wine surely, that gentle creature, wine ; come, let 
 us have a little gentle wine at one of these little tables 
 here. Come, come." Then essaying to roll about like 
 a full pipe in the sea, sang in a voice which had had more 
 of good-fellowship, had there been less of a latent squeak 
 to it: 
 
 " Let us drink of the wine of the vine benign, 
 That sparkles warm in Zansovine." 
 
 The cosmopolitan, with longing eye upon him, stood 
 as sorely tempted and wavering a moment ; then, abrupt- 
 
MOOT POINTS. 249 
 
 ly stepping towards him, with a look of dissolved sur 
 render, said : " When mermaid songs move figure-heads, 
 then may glory, gold, and women try their blandish 
 ments on me. But a good fellow, singing a good song. 
 he woos forth my every spike, so that my whole hull, 
 like a ship's, sailing by a magnetic rock, caves in with 
 acquiescence. Enough : when one has a heart of a cer 
 tain sort, it is in vain trying to be resolute." 
 11* 
 
CHAPTER XXIX 
 
 THE BOON COMPANIONS. 
 
 THE wine, port, being called for, and the two seated 
 at the little table, a natural pause of convivial expect 
 ancy ensued ; the stranger's eye turned towards the bar 
 near by, watching the red-cheeked, white-aproned man 
 there, blithely dusting the bottle, and invitingly arrang 
 ing the salver and glasses ; when, with a sudden impulse 
 turning round his head towards his companion, he said, 
 " Ours is friendship at first sight, ain't it?" 
 
 " It is," was the placidly pleased reply : " and the 
 same may be said of friendship at first sight as of love 
 at first sight : it is the only true one, the only noble 
 one. It bespeaks confidence. Who would go 'sounding 
 his way into love or friendship, like a strange ship by 
 night, into an enemy's harbor?" 
 
 " Right. Boldly in before the wind. Agreeable, how 
 we always agree. By-the-way, though but a formality, 
 friends should know each other's names. What is yours, 
 pray?" 
 
 " Francis Goodman. But those who love me, call me 
 Frank. And yours ?" 
 
THE BOON COMPANIONS. 251 
 
 " Charles Arnold Noble. But do you call me 
 Charlie." 
 
 " I will, Charlie ; nothing like preserving in manhood 
 the fraternal familiarities of youth. It proves the heart 
 a rosy boy to the last." 
 
 "My sentiments again. Ah !" 
 
 It was a smiling waiter, with the smiling bottle, the 
 cork drawn ; a common quart bottle, but for the occa 
 sion fitted at bottom into a little bark basket, braided 
 with porcupine quills, gayly tinted in the Indian fashion. 
 This being set before the entertainer, he regarded it 
 with affectionate interest, but seemed not to understand, 
 or else to pretend not to, a handsome red label pasted 
 on the bottle, bearing the capital letters, P. W. 
 
 " P. W.," said he at last, perplexedly eying the pleas 
 ing poser, " now what does P. W. mean ?" 
 
 "Shouldn't wonder," said the cosmopolitan gravely, 
 "if it stood for port wine. You called for port wine, 
 didn't you ?" 
 
 " Why so it is, so it is !" 
 
 " I find some little mysteries not very hard to clear 
 up," said the other, quietly crossing his legs. 
 
 This commonplace seemed to escape the stranger's 
 hearing, for, full of his bottle, he now rubbed his some 
 what sallow hands over it, and with a strange kind of 
 cackle, meant to be a chirrup, cried : " Good wine, good 
 wine ; is it not the peculiar bond of good feeling ?" 
 Then brimming both glasses, pushed one over, saying, 
 with what seemed intended for an air of fine disdain : 
 " Hi betide those gloomy skeptics who maintain that 
 
252 THE CONFIDENCE-MAN. 
 
 now-a-days pure wine is unpurchasable ; that almost 
 every variety on sale is less the vintage of vineyards 
 than laboratories ; that most bar-keepers are but a set 
 of male Brinvilliarses, with complaisant arts practicing 
 against the lives of their best friends, their customers." 
 
 A shade passed over the cosmopolitan. After a few 
 minutes' down-cast musing, he lifted his eyes and said : 
 " I have long thought, my dear Charlie, that the spirit 
 in which wine is regarded by too many in these days is 
 one of the most painful examples of want of confidence. 
 Look at these glasses. He who could mistrust poison 
 in this wine would mistrust consumption in Hebe's 
 cheek. While, as for suspicions against the dealers in 
 wine and sellers of it, those who cherish such suspicions 
 can have but limited trust in the human heart. Each 
 human heart they must think to be much like each bot 
 tle of port, not such port as this, but such port as they 
 hold to. Strange traducers, who see good faith in no 
 thing, however sacred. Not medicines, not the wine in 
 sacraments, has escaped them. The doctor with his 
 phial, and the priest with his chalice, they deem equally 
 the unconscious dispensers of bogus cordials to the 
 dying." 
 
 "Dreadful!" 
 
 " Dreadful indeed," said the cosmopolitan solemnly. 
 " These distrusters stab at the very soul of confidence. 
 If this wine," impressively holding up his full glass, " if 
 this wine with its bright promise be not true, how shall 
 man be, whose promise can be no brighter ? But if wine 
 be false, while men are true, whither shall fly convivial 
 
THE BOON COMPANIONS. 253 
 
 geniality? To think of sincerely-genial souls drinking 
 each other's health at unawares in perfidious and mur 
 derous drugs !" 
 
 " Horrible !" 
 
 " Much too much so to be true, Charlie. Let us for-, 
 get it. Come, you are my entertainer on this occasion, 
 and yet you don't pledge me. I have been waiting for 
 it." 
 
 " Pardon, pardon," half confusedly and half ostenta 
 tiously lifting his glass. " I pledge you, Frank, with 
 my whole heart, believe me," taking a draught too de 
 corous to be large, but which, small though it was, was 
 followed by a slight involuntary wryness to the mouth. 
 
 " And I return you the pledge, Charlie, heart-warm 
 as it came to me, and honest as this wine I drink it in," 
 reciprocated the cosmopolitan with princely kindliness in 
 his gesture, taking a generous swallow, concluding in a 
 smack, which, though audible, was not so much so as to 
 be unpleasing. 
 
 " Talking of alleged spuriousness of wines," said he, 
 tranquilly setting down his glass, and then sloping back 
 his head and with friendly fixedness eying the wine, 
 " perhaps the strangest part of those allegings is, that 
 there is, as claimed, a kind of man who, while convinced 
 that on this continent most wines are shams, yet still 
 drinks away at them ; accounting wine so fine a thing, 
 that even the sham article is better than none at all. And 
 if the temperance people urge that, by this course, he 
 will sooner or later be undermined in health, he answers, 
 1 And do you think I don't know that? But health 
 
254 THE CONFIDENCE-MAN. 
 
 without cheer I hold a bore ; and cheer, even of the 
 spurious sort, has its price, which I am willing to 
 pay.'" 
 
 " Such a man, Frank, must have a disposition ungov 
 ernably bacchanalian." 
 
 " Yes, if such a man there be, which I don't credit. 
 It is a fable, but a fable from which I once heard a per 
 son of less genius than grotesqueness draw a moral even 
 more extravagant than the fable itself. He said that it 
 illustrated, as in a parable, how that a man of a disposi 
 tion ungovernably good-natured might still familiarly 
 associate with men, though, at the same time, he believed 
 the greater part of men false-hearted accounting so 
 ciety so sweet a thing that even the spurious sort was 
 better than none at all. And if the Rochefoucaultites 
 urge that, by this course, he will sooner or later be un 
 dermined in security, he answers, ' And do you think I 
 don't know that ? But security without society I hold 
 a bore ; and society, even of the spurious sort, has its 
 price, which I am willing to pay.' " 
 
 " A most singular theory," said the stranger with a 
 slight fidget, eying his companion with some inquisitive- 
 ness, " indeed, Frank, a most slanderous thought," he 
 exclaimed in sudden heat and with an involuntary look 
 almost of being personally aggrieved. 
 
 "In one sense it merits all you say, and more," re 
 joined the other with wonted mildness, " but, for a kind 
 of drollery in it, charity might, perhaps, overlook some 
 thing of the wickedness. Humor is, in fact, so blessed a 
 thing, that even in the least virtuous product of the 
 
THE BOON COMPANIONS. 255 
 
 human mind, if there can be found but nine good jokes, 
 some philosophers are clement enough to affirm that 
 those nine good jokes should redeem all the wicked 
 thoughts, though plenty as the populace of Sodom. At 
 any rate, this same humor has something, there is no 
 telling what, of beneficence in it, it is such a catholicon 
 and charm nearly all men agreeing in relishing it, 
 though they may agree in little else and in its way it 
 undeniably does such a deal of familiar good in the 
 world, that no wonder it is almost a proverb, that a man 
 of humor, a man capable of a good loud laugh seem 
 how he may in other things can hardly be a heartless 
 scamp." 
 
 " Ha, ha, ha!" laughed the other, pointing to the 
 figure of a pale pauper-boy on the deck below, whose 
 pitiableness was touched, as it were, with ludicrousness 
 by a pair of monstrous boots, apparently some mason's 
 discarded ones, cracked with drouth, half eaten by lime, 
 and curled up about the toe like a bassoon. "Look 
 ha, ha, ha!" 
 
 " I see," said the other, with what seemed quiet ap 
 preciation, but of a kind expressing an eye to the gro 
 tesque, without blindness to what in this case accompa 
 nied it, "I see; and the way in which it moves you, 
 Charlie, comes in very apropos to point the proverb I 
 was speaking of. Indeed, had you intended this effect, 
 it could not have been more so. For who that heard 
 that laugh, but would as naturally argue from it a 
 sound heart as sound lungs ? True, it is said that a 
 man may smile, and smile, and smile, and be a villain ; 
 
256" THE CONFIDENCE- MAN. 
 
 but it is not said that a man may laugh, and laugh, and 
 laugh, and be one, is it, Charlie ?" 
 
 "Ha, ha, ha! no no, no no." 
 
 "Why Charlie, your explosions illustrate my remarks 
 almost as aptly as the chemist's imitation volcano did 
 his lectures. But even if experience did not sanction 
 the proverb, that a good laugher cannot be a bad man, I 
 should yet feel bound in confidence to believe it, since 
 it is a saying current among the people, and I doubt 
 not originated among them, and hence must be true ; for 
 the voice of the people is the voice of truth. Don't 
 you think so?" 
 
 " Of course I do. If Truth don't speak through the 
 people, it never speaks at all; so I heard one say." 
 
 " A true saying. But we stray. The popular notion 
 of humor, considered as index to the heart, would seem 
 curiously confirmed by Aristotle I think, in his "Poli 
 tics," (a work, by-the-by, which, however it may be 
 viewed upon the whole, yet, from the tenor of certain 
 sections, should not, without precaution, be placed in 
 the hands of youth) who remarks that the least lovable 
 men in history seem to have had for humor not only a 
 disrelish, but a hatred; and this, in some cases, along 
 with an extraordinary dry taste for practical punning. 
 I remember it is related of Phalaris, the capricious 
 tyrant of Sicily, that he once caused a poor fellow to be 
 beheaded on a horse-block, for no other cause than hav 
 ing a horse-laugh." 
 
 "Funny Phalaris!" 
 
 "Cruel Phalaris!" 
 
THE BOON COMPANIONS. 257 
 
 As after fire-crackers, there was a pause, both look 
 ing downward on the table as if mutually struck by the 
 contrast of exclamations, and pondering upon its signi 
 ficance, if any. So, at least, it seemed ; but on one side 
 it might have been otherwise : for presently glancing up, 
 the cosmopolitan said : " In the instance of the moral, 
 drolly cynic, drawn from the queer bacchanalian fellow 
 we were speaking of, who had his reasons for still drink 
 ing spurious wine, though knowing it to be such there, 
 I say, we have an example of what is certainly a wicked 
 thought, but conceived in humor. I will now give you 
 one of a wicked thought conceived in wickedness. You 
 shall compare the two, and answer, whether in fhe one 
 case the sting is not neutralized by the humor, and 
 whether in the other the absence of humor does not 
 leave the sting free play. I once heard a wit, a mere 
 wit, mind, an irreligious Parisian wit, say, with regard 
 to the temperance movement, that none, to their per 
 sonal benefit, joined it sooner than niggards and knaves ; 
 because, as he affirmed, the one by it saved money and 
 the other made money, as in ship-owners cutting off 
 the spirit ration without giving its equivalent, and 
 gamblers and all sorts of subtle tricksters sticking to 
 cold water, the better to keep a cool head for business." 
 
 " A wicked thought, indeed !" cried the stranger, 
 feelingly. 
 
 " Yes," leaning over the table on his elbow and geni 
 ally gesturing at him with his forefinger : " yes, and, as 
 I said, you don't remark the sting of it ?" 
 
 " I do, indeed. Most calumnious thought, Frank !" 
 
258 THE CONFIDENCE-MAN. 
 
 "No humor in it?" 
 
 "Not a bit!" 
 
 " Well now, Charlie," eying him with moist regard, 
 " let us drink. It appears to me you don't drink 
 freely." 
 
 " Oh, oh indeed, indeed I am not backward there. 
 I protest, a freer drinker than friend Charlie you will 
 find nowhere," with feverish zeal snatching his glass, 
 but only in the sequel to dally with it. " By-the-way, 
 Frank," said he, perhaps, or perhaps not, to draw atten 
 tion from himself, " by-the-way, I saw a good thing 
 the other day ; capital thing ; a panegyric on the press. 
 It pleased me so, I got it by heart at two readings. It 
 is a kind of poetry, but in a form which stands in some 
 thing the same relation to blank verse which that does 
 to rhyme. A sort of free-and-easy chant with refrains 
 to it. Shall I recite it ?" 
 
 " Anything in praise of the press I shall be happy to 
 hear," rejoined the cosmopolitan, " the more so," he 
 gravely proceeded, " as of late I have observed in some 
 quarters a disposition to disparage the press." 
 
 " Disparage the press ?" 
 
 " Even so ; some gloomy souls affirming that it is 
 proving with that great invention as with brandy or 
 eau-de-vie, which, upon its first discovery, was believed 
 by the doctors to be, as its French name implies, a pana 
 cea a notion which experience, it may be thought, 
 has not fully verified." 
 
 " You surprise me, Frank. Are there really those who 
 so decry the press ? Tell me more. Their reasons." 
 
THE BOON COMPANIONS. 259 
 
 " Keasoris they have none, but affirmations they have 
 many ; among other things affirming that, while under 
 dynastic despotisms, the press is to the people little but 
 an improvisatore, under popular ones it is too apt to be 
 their Jack Cade. In fine, these sour sages regard the 
 press in the light of a Colt's revolver, pledged to no 
 cause but his in whose chance hands it may be ; deem 
 ing the one invention an improvement upon the pen, 
 much akin to what the other is upon the pistol ; involv 
 ing, along with the multiplication of the barrel, no con 
 secration of the aim. The term ' freedom of the press' 
 they consider on a par with freedom of Colt's revolver. 
 Hence, for truth and the right, they hold, to indulge 
 hopes from the one is little more sensible than for Kos- 
 suth and Mazzini to indulge hopes from the other. 
 Heart-breaking views enough, you think; but their 
 refutation is in every true reformer's contempt. Is it 
 not so r 
 
 " Without doubt. But go on, go on. I like to hear 
 you," flatteringly brimming up his glass for him. 
 
 " For one," continued the cosmopolitan, grandly 
 swelling his chest, " I hold the press to be neither the 
 people's improvisatore, nor Jack Cade ; neither their 
 paid fool, nor conceited drudge. I think interest never 
 prevails with it over duty. The press still speaks for 
 truth though impaled, in the teeth of lies though in 
 trenched. Disdaining for it the poor name of cheap 
 diffuser of news, I claim for it the independent apostle- 
 ship of Advancer of Knowledge : the iron Paul ! 
 Paul, I say ; for not only does the press advance know- 
 
260 THE CONFIDENCE- MAN. 
 
 ledge, but righteousness. In the press, as in the sun, 
 resides, my dear Charlie, a dedicated principle of bene 
 ficent force and light. For the Satanic press, by its 
 coappearance with the apostolic, it is no more an as 
 persion to that, than to the true sun is the coappearance 
 of the mock one. For all the baleful-looking parhelion, 
 god Apollo dispenses the day. In a word, Charlie, what 
 the sovereign of England is titularly, I hold the press to 
 be actually Defender of the Faith ! defender of the 
 faith in the final triumph of truth over error, metaphy 
 sics over superstition, theory over falsehood, machinery 
 over nature, and the good man over the bad. Such are 
 my views, which, if stated at some length, you, Charlie, 
 must pardon, for it is a theme upon which I cannot 
 speak with cold brevity. And now I am impatient for 
 your panegyric, which, I doubt not, will put mine to 
 the blush." 
 
 " It is rather in the blush-giving vein," smiled the 
 other ; " but such as it is, Frank, you shall have it." 
 
 " Tell me when you are about to begin," said the 
 cosmopolitan, " for, when at public dinners the press is 
 toasted, I always drink the toast standing, and shall 
 stand while you pronounce the panegyric." 
 
 "Very good, Frank ; you may stand up now." 
 
 He accordingly did so, when the stranger likewise 
 rose, and uplifting the ruby wine-flask, began. 
 
CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 OPENING WITH A POETICAL EULOGY OF THE PRESS AND CONTINUING 
 WITH TALK INSPIRED BY THE SAME. 
 
 " * Praise be unto the press, not Faust's, but Noah's; 
 let us extol and magnify the press, the true press of 
 Noah, from which breaketh the true morning. Praise 
 be unto the press, not the black press but the red ; 
 let us extol and magnify the press, the red press of Noah, 
 from which cometh inspiration. Ye pressmen of the 
 Rhineland and the Rhine, join in with all ye who tread 
 out the glad tidings on isle Madeira or Mitylene. Who 
 giveth redness of eyes by making men long to tarry at 
 the fine print ? Praise be unto the press, the rosy press 
 of Noah, which giveth rosiness of hearts, by making men 
 long to tarry at the rosy wine. Who hath babblings and 
 contentions? Who, without cause, inflicteth wounds? 
 Praise be unto the press, the kindly press of Noah, 
 which knitteth friends, which fuseth foes. Who may be 
 bribed? Who may be bound ? Praise be unto the press, 
 the free press of Noah, which will not lie for tyrants, 
 but make tyrants speak the truth. Then praise be unto 
 the press, the frank old press of Noah ; then let us 
 extol and magnify the press, the brave old press of Noah ; 
 
262 THE CONFIDENCE-MAN. 
 
 then let us with roses garland and enwreath the press, 
 the grand old press of Noah, from which flow streams of 
 knowledge which give man a bliss no more unreal than 
 his pain/ " 
 
 "You deceived me," smiled the.cosmopolitan, as both 
 now resumed their seats ; " you roguishly took advantage 
 of my simplicity ; you archly played upon my enthusiasm. 
 But never mind ; the offense, if any, was so charming, 
 I almost wish you would offend again. As for certain 
 poetic left-handers in your panegyric, those I cheerfully 
 concede to the indefinite privileges of the poet. Upon 
 the whole, it was quite in the lyric style a style I always 
 admire on account of that spirit of Sibyllic confidence 
 and assurance which is, perhaps, its prime ingredient. 
 But come," glancing at his companion's glass, "fora 
 lyrist, you let the bottle stay with you too long." 
 
 " The lyre and the vine forever !" cried the other in 
 his rapture, or what seemed such, heedless of the hint, 
 " the vine, the vine ! is it not the most graceful and 
 bounteous of all growths ? And, by its being such, is 
 not something meant divinely meant ? As I live, a 
 vine, a Catawba vine, shall be planted on my grave ! 
 
 " A genial thought ; but your glass there." 
 
 " Oh, oh," taking a moderate sip, " but you, why don't 
 you drink ?" 
 
 " You have forgotten, my dear Charlie, what I told 
 you of my previous convivialities to-day." 
 
 " Oh," cried the other, now in manner quite abandoned 
 to the lyric mood, not without contrast to the easy 
 sociability of his companion. " Oh, one can't drink too 
 
POETICAL EULOGY OF THE PRESS. 263 
 
 much of good old wine the genuine, mellow old port. 
 Pooh, pooh ! drink away." 
 
 " Then keep me company." 
 
 " Of course," with a flourish, taking another sip 
 " suppose we have cigars. Never mind your pipe there ; 
 a pipe is best when alone. I say, waiter, bring some 
 cigars your best." 
 
 They were brought in a pretty little bit of western 
 pottery, representing some kind of Indian utensil, mum 
 my-colored, set down in a mass of tobacco leaves, whose 
 long, green fans, fancifully grouped, formed with peeps 
 of red the sides of the receptacle. 
 
 Accompanying it were two accessories, also bits of 
 pottery, but smaller, both globes ; one in guise of an 
 apple flushed with red and gold to the life, and, through 
 a cleft at top, you saw it was hollow. This was for the 
 ashes. The other, gray, with wrinkled surface, in the 
 likeness of a wasp's nest, was the match-box. 
 
 " There," said the stranger, pushing over the cigar- 
 stand, u help yourself, and I will touch you off," taking 
 a match. "Nothing like tobacco," he added, when the 
 fumes of the cigar began to wreathe, glancing from the 
 smoker to the pottery, " I will have a Virginia tobacco- 
 plant set over my grave beside the Catawba vine." 
 
 " Improvement upon your first idea, which by itself 
 was good but you don't smoke." 
 
 " Presently, presently let me fill your glass again. 
 You don't drink." 
 
 " Thank you ; but no more just now. Fill your 
 glass.'' 
 
264 THE CONFIDENCE- MAN. 
 
 " Presently, presently; do you drink on. Never 
 mind me. Now that it strikes me, let me say, that he 
 who, out of superfine gentility or fanatic morality, 
 denies himself tobacco, suffers a more serious abatement 
 in the cheap pleasures of life than the dandy in his iron 
 boot, or the celibate on his iron cot. While for him 
 who would fain revel in tobacco, but cannot, it is a thing 
 at which philanthropists must weep, to see such an one, 
 again and again, madly returning to the cigar, which, 
 for his incompetent stomach, he cannot enjoy, while 
 still, after each shameful repulse, the sweet dream of 
 the impossible good goads him on to his fierce misery 
 once more poor eunuch !" 
 
 " I agree with you," said the cosmopolitan, still gravely 
 social, " but you don't smoke." 
 
 *' Presently, presently, do you smoke on. As I was 
 saying about " 
 
 " But why don't you smoke come. You don't think 
 that tobacco, when in league with wine, too much en 
 hances the latter's vinous quality in short, with certain 
 constitutions tends to impair self-possession, do you?" 
 
 " To think that, were treason to good fellowship," 
 was the warm disclaimer. "No, no. But the fact is, 
 there is an unpropitious flavor in my mouth just now. 
 Ate of a diabolical ragout at dinner, so I shan't smoke 
 till I have washed away the lingering memento of it 
 with wine. But smoke away, you, and pray, don't 
 forget to drink. By-the-way, while we sit here so 
 companionably, giving loose to any companionable 
 nothing, your uncompanionable friend, Coonskins, is, by 
 
POETICAL, EULOGY OF THE PRESS. 265 
 
 pure contrast, brought' to recollection. If he were but 
 here now, he would see how much of real heart-joy he 
 denies himself by not hob-a-nobbing with his kind." 
 
 " Why," with loitering emphasis, slowly withdrawing 
 his cigar, " I thought I had undeceived you there. I 
 thought you had come to a better understanding of my 
 eccentric friend." 
 
 "Well, I thought so, too; but first impressions will 
 return, you know. In truth, now that I think of it, I 
 am led to conjecture from chance things which dropped 
 from Coonskins, during the little interview I had with 
 him, that he is not a Missourian by birth, but years ago 
 came West here, a young misanthrope from the other 
 side of the Alleghanies, less to make his fortune, than to 
 flee man. Now, since they say trifles sometimes effect 
 great results, I shouldn't wonder, if his history were 
 probed, it would be found that what first indirectly gave 
 his sad bias to Coonskins was his disgust at reading in boy 
 hood the advice of Polonius to Laertes advice which, in 
 the selfishness it inculcates, is almost on a par with a sort 
 of ballad upon the economies of money-making, to be 
 occasionally seen pasted against the desk of small retail 
 traders in New England." 
 
 " I do hope now, my dear fellew," said the cosmopoli 
 tan with an air of bland protest, " that, in my presence 
 at least, you will throw out nothing to the prejudice of 
 the sons of the Puritans." 
 
 " Hey-day and high times indeed," exclaimed the 
 other, nettled, " sons of the Puritans forsooth ! And 
 
 who be Puritans, that I, an Alabamaian, must do them 
 
 12 
 
266 THE CONFIDENCE- MAN. 
 
 reverence ? A set of sourly conceited old Malvolios, 
 whom Shakespeare laughs his fill at in his come 
 dies." 
 
 "Pray, what were you about to suggest with regard 
 to Polonius," observed the cosmopolitan with quiet for 
 bearance, expressive of the patience of a superior mind 
 at the petulance of an inferior one ; " how do you char 
 acterize his advice to Laertes ?" 
 
 " As false, fatal, and calumnious," exclaimed the other, 
 with a degree of ardor befitting one resenting a stigma 
 upon the family escutcheon, "and for a father to give 
 his son monstrous. The case you see is this : The son 
 is going abroad, and for the first. What does the father ? 
 Invoke God's blessing upon him ? Put the blessed Bible 
 in his trunk ? No. Crams him with maxims smacking 
 of my Lord Chesterfield, with maxims of France, with 
 maxims of Italy." 
 
 " No, no, be charitable, not that. Why, does he not 
 among other things say : 
 
 ' The friends thou hast, and their adoption tried, 
 Grapple them to thy soul with hooks of steel' ? 
 
 Is that compatible with maxims of Italy ?" 
 
 "Yes it is, Frank. Don't you see? Laertes is to 
 take the best of care of his friends his proved friends, 
 on the same principal that a wine-corker takes the best 
 of care of his proved bottles. When a bottle gets a 
 sharp knock and don't break, he says, ' Ah, I'll keep that 
 bottle.' Why ? Because he loves it ? No, he has par 
 ticular use for it." 
 
POETICAL EULOGY OF THE PRESS. 267 
 
 " Dear,' dear !" appealingly turning in distress, " that 
 that kind of criticism is is in fact it won't do." 
 
 " Won't truth do, Frank ? You are so charitable with 
 everybody, do but consider the tone of the speech. 
 Now I put it to you, Frank ; is there anything in it 
 hortatory to high, heroic, disinterested effort? Any 
 thing like ' sell all thou hast and give to the poor ?' And, 
 in other points, what desire seems most in the father's 
 mind, that his son should cherish nobleness for himself, 
 or be on his guard against the contrary thing in others ? 
 An irreligious warner, Frank no devout counselor, is 
 Polonius. I hate him. Nor can I bear to hear your 
 veterans of the world affirm, that he who steers through 
 life by the advice of old Polonius will not steer among 
 the breakers." 
 
 "No, no I hope nobody affirms that," rejoined the 
 cosmopolitan, with tranquil abandonment ; sideways re 
 posing his arm at full length upon the table. " I hope 
 nobody affirms that ; because, if Polonius' advice be 
 taken in your sense, then the recommendation of it by 
 men of experience would appear to involve more or less 
 of an unhandsome sort of reflection upon human nature. 
 And yet," with a perplexed air, " your suggestions have 
 put things in such a strange light to me as in fact a 
 little to disturb my previous notions of Polonius and 
 what he says. To be frank, by your ingenuity you have 
 unsettled me there, to that degree that were it not for 
 our coincidence of opinion in general, I should almost 
 think I was now at length beginning to feel the ill effect 
 of an immature mind, too much consorting with a 
 
268 THE CONFIDENCE- MAN. 
 
 mature one, except on the ground of first principles in 
 common." 
 
 " Really and truly," cried the other with a kind of 
 tickled modesty and pleased concern, " mine is an under 
 standing too weak to throw out grapnels and hug an 
 other to it. I have indeed heard of some great scholars 
 in these days, whose boast is less that they have made 
 disciples than victims. But for me, had I the power to 
 do such things, I have not the heart to desire." 
 
 " I believe you, my dear Charlie. And yet, I repeat, 
 by your commentaries on Polonius you have, I know 
 not how, unsettled me ; so that now I don't exactly see 
 how Shakespeare meant the words he puts in Polonius' 
 mouth." 
 
 " Some say that he meant them to open people's eyes ; 
 but I don't think so." 
 
 " Open their eyes ?" echoed the cosmopolitan, slowly 
 expanding his; "what is there in this world for one to 
 open his eyes to? I mean in the sort of invidious sense 
 you cite?" 
 
 "Well, others say he meant to corrupt people's mor 
 als ; and still others, that he had no express intention at 
 all, but in effect opens their eyes and corrupts their 
 morals in one operation. All of which I reject." 
 
 " Of course you reject so crude an hypothesis ; and yet, 
 to confess, in reading Shakespeare in my closet, struck 
 by some passage, I have laid down the volume, and said : 
 ' This Shakespeare is a queer man.' At times seeming 
 irresponsible, he does not always seem reliable. There 
 appears to be a certain what shall I call it? hidden 
 
POETICAL EULOGY OF THE TRESS. 269 
 
 sun, say, about him, at once enlightening and mystify 
 ing. Now, I should be afraid to say what I have some 
 times thought that hidden sun might be." 
 
 " Do you think it was the true light?" with clan 
 destine geniality again filling the other's glass. 
 
 " I would prefer to decline answering a categorical 
 question there. Shakespeare has got to be a kind of 
 deity. Prudent minds, having certain latent thoughts 
 concerning him, will reserve them in a condition of last 
 ing probation. Still, as touching avowable speculations, 
 we are permitted a tether. Shakespeare himself is to be 
 adored, not arraigned ; but, so we do it with humility, we 
 may a little canvass his characters. There's his Autoly- 
 cus now, a fellow that always puzzled me. How is one 
 to take Autolycus? A rogue so happy, so lucky, so 
 triumphant, of so almost captivatingly vicious a career 
 that a virtuous man reduced to the poor-house (were 
 such a contingency conceivable), might almost long to 
 change sides with him. And yet, see the words put into 
 his mouth : ' Oh,' cries Autolycus, as he comes galloping, 
 gay as a buck, upon the stage, ' oh,' he laughs, ' oh what 
 a fool is Honesty, and Trust, his sworn brother, a very 
 simple gentleman.' Think of that. Trust, that is, confi 
 dence that is, the thing in this universe the sacredest 
 is rattlingly pronounced just the simplest. And the 
 scenes in which the rogue figures seem purposely de 
 vised for verification of his principles. Mind, Charlie, I 
 do not say it is so, far from it ; but I do say it seems so. 
 Yes, Autolycus would seem a needy varlet acting upon 
 the persuasion that less is to be got by invoking pockets 
 
270 THE CONFIDENCE-MAN. 
 
 than picking them, more to be made by an expert knave 
 than a bungling beggar ; and for this reason, as he 
 thinks, that the soft heads outnumber the soft hearts. 
 The devil's drilled recruit, Autolycus is joyous as if he 
 wore the livery of heaven. When disturbed by the 
 character and career of one thus wicked and thus happy, 
 my sole consolation is in the fact that no such creature 
 ever existed, except in the powerful imagination which 
 evoked him. And yet, a creature, a living creature, he 
 is, though only a poet was his maker. It may be, that 
 in that paper-and-ink investiture of his, Autolycus acts 
 more effectively upon mankind than he would in a flesh- 
 and-blood one. Can his influence be salutary? True, 
 in Autolycus there is humor; but though, according to 
 my principle, humor is in general to be held a saving 
 quality, yet the case of Autolycus is an exception ; 
 because it is his humor which, so to speak, oils his 
 mischievousness. The bravadoing mischievousness of 
 Autolycus is slid into the world on humor, as a pirate 
 schooner, with colors flying, is launched into the sea on 
 greased ways." 
 
 " I approve of Autolycus as little as you," said the 
 stranger, who, during his companion's commonplaces, 
 had seemed less attentive to them than to maturing with 
 in his own mind the original conceptions destined to 
 eclipse them. " But I cannot believe that Autolycus, 
 mischievous as he must prove upon the stage, can be 
 near so much so as such a character as Polonius." 
 
 "I don't know about that," bluntly, and yet not 
 impolitely, returned the cosmopolitan ; " to be sure, ac- 
 
POETICAL EULOGY OF THE PRESS. 271 
 
 cepting your view of the old courtier, then if between 
 him and Autolycus you raise the question of unprepos- 
 sessingness, I grant you the latter comes off best. For a 
 moist rogue may tickle the midriff, while a dry worldling 
 may but wrinkle the spleen." 
 
 " But Polonius is not dry," said the other excitedly ; 
 " he drules. One sees the fly-blown old fop drule and 
 look wise. His vile wisdom is made the viler by his 
 vile rheuminess. The bowing and cringing, time-serving 
 old sinner is such an one to give manly precepts to 
 youth ? The discreet, decorous, old dotard-of-state ; 
 senile prudence ; fatuous soullessriess ! The ribanded 
 old dog is paralytic all down one side, and that the side 
 of nobleness. His soul is gone out. Only nature's au- 
 tomatonism keeps him on his legs. As with some old 
 trees, the bark survives the pith, and will still stand 
 stiffly up, though but to rim round punk, so the body 
 of old Polonius has outlived his soul." 
 
 " Come, come," said the cosmopolitan with serious air, 
 almost displeased ; "though I yield to none in admiration 
 of earnestness, yet, I think, even earnestness may have 
 limits. To human minds, strong language is always 
 more or less distressing. Besides, Polonius is an old 
 man as I remember him upon the stage with snowy 
 locks. Now charity requires that such a figure think 
 of it how you will should at least be treated with 
 civility. Moreover, old age is ripeness, and I once 
 heard say, ' Better ripe than raw.' " 
 
 " But not be.tter rotten than raw !" bringing down his 
 hand with energy on the table. 
 
272 THE CONFIDENCE-MAN. 
 
 " Why, bless me," in mild surprise contemplating his 
 heated comrade, " how you fly out against this unfortu 
 nate Polonius a being that never was, nor will be. 
 And yet, viewed in a Christian light," he added pensive 
 ly, " I don't know that anger against this man of straw 
 is a whit less wise than anger against a man of flesh, 
 Madness, to be mad with anything." 
 
 " That may be, or may not be," returned the other, a 
 little testily, perhaps; "but I stick to what I said, that 
 it is better to be raw than rotten. And what is to be 
 feared on that head, may be known from this : that it is 
 with the best of hearts as with the best of pears a dan 
 gerous experiment to linger too long upon the scene. 
 This did Polonius. Thank fortune, Frank, lam young, 
 every tooth sound in my head, and if good wine can 
 keep me where I am, long shall I remain so." 
 
 " True," with a smile. " But wine, to do good, must 
 be drunk. You have talked much and well, Charlie ; 
 but drunk little and indifferently fill up." 
 
 " Presently, presently," with a hasty and preoccupied 
 air. " If I remember right, Polonius hints as much as 
 that one should, under no circumstances, commit the in 
 discretion of aiding in a pecuniary way an unfortunate 
 friend. He drules out some stale stuff about ' loan losing 
 both itself and friend,' don't he ? But our bottle ; is it 
 glued fast ? Keep ifr moving, my dear Frank. Good 
 wine, and upon my soul I begin to feel it, and through 
 me old Polonius yes, this wine, I fear, is what excites 
 me so against that detestable old dog without a tooth." 
 
 Upon this, the cosmopolitan, cigar in mouth, slowly 
 
POETICAL EULOGY OF THE PRESS. 273 
 
 raised the bottle, and brought it slowly to the light, 
 looking at it steadfastly, as one might at a thermometer 
 in August, to see not how low it was. but how high. 
 Then whiffing out a puff, set it down, and said : " Well, 
 Charlie, if what wine you have drunk came out of this 
 bottle, in that case I should say that if supposing a 
 case that if one fellow had an object in getting another 
 fellow fuddled, and this fellow to be fuddled was of 
 your capacity, the operation would be comparatively 
 inexpensive. What do you think, Charlie ?" 
 
 " Why, I think I don't much admire the supposition," 
 said Charlie, with a look of resentment; "it ain't safe, 
 depend upon it, Frank, to venture upon too jocose sup 
 positions with one's friends." 
 
 "Why, bless you, Frank, my supposition wasn't per 
 sonal, but general. You mustn't be so touchy." 
 
 " If I arn touchy it is the wine. Sometimes, when I 
 freely drink, it it has a touchy effect on me, I have ob 
 served." 
 
 " Freely drink? you haven't drunk the perfect mea 
 sure of one glass, yet. While for me, this must be my 
 fourth or fifth, thanks to your importunity ; not to speak 
 of all I drank this morning, for old acquaintance' sake. 
 Drink, drink ; you must drink." 
 
 " Oh, I drink while you are talking," laughed the 
 other ; " you have not noticed it, but I have drunk my 
 share. Have a queer way I learned from a sedate old 
 uncle, who used to tip off his glass unperceived. Do 
 you fill up, and my glass, too. There ! Now away 
 
 with that stump, and have a new cigar. Good fellow- 
 12* 
 
274 THE CONFIDENCE-MAN. 
 
 ship forever!" again in the lyric mood. "Say, Frank, 
 are we not men? I say are we not human? Tell me, 
 w^ere ihey not human who engendered us, as before 
 heaven I believe they shall be whom we shall engender ? 
 Fill up, up, up, my friend. Let the ruby tide aspire, 
 and all ruby aspirations with it ! Up, fill up ! Be we 
 convivial. And conviviality, what is it ? The word, I 
 mean ; what expresses it ? A living together. But 
 bats live together, and did you ever hear of convivial 
 bats?" 
 
 " If I ever did," observed the cosmopolitan, " it has 
 quite slipped my recollection." 
 
 " But why did you never hear of convivial bats, nor 
 anybody else ? Because bats, though they live together, 
 live not together genially. Bats are not genial souls. 
 But men are ; and how delightful to think that the word 
 which among men signifies the highest pitch of ge 
 niality, implies, as indispensable auxiliary, the cheery 
 benediction of the bottle. Yes, Frank, to live together 
 in the finest sense, we must drink together. And so, 
 what wonder that he who loves not wine, that sober 
 wretch has a lean heart a heart like a wrung-out old 
 bluing-bag, and loves not his kind? Out upon him, to 
 the rag-house with him, hang him the ungenial 
 soul !" 
 
 " Oh, now, now, can't you be convivial without being 
 censorious? I like easy, unexcited conviviality. For 
 the sober man, really, though for my part I naturally 
 love a cheerful glass, I will not prescribe my nature as 
 the law to other natures. So don't abuse the sober 
 
POETICAL EULOGY OF THE PRESS. 275 
 
 man. Conviviality is one good thing, and sobriety is 
 another good thing. So don't be one-sided." 
 
 " Well, if I am one-sided, it is the wine. Indeed, in 
 deed, I have indulged too genially. My excitement 
 upon slight provocation shows it. But yours is a 
 stronger head ; drink you. By the way, talking of ge 
 niality, it is much on the increase in these days, ain't 
 it?" 
 
 "It is, and I hail the fact. Nothing better attests 
 the advance of the humanitarian spirit. In former and 
 less humanitarian ages the ages of amphitheatres and 
 gladiators geniality was mostly confined to the fireside 
 and table. But in our age the age of joint-stock com 
 panies and free-and-easies it is with this precious 
 quality as with precious gold in old Peru, which Pizarro 
 found making up the scullion's sauce-pot as the Inca's 
 crown. Yes, we golden boys, the moderns, have geni 
 ality everwhere a bounty broadcast like noonlight." 
 
 "True, true; my sentiments again. Geniality has 
 invaded each department and profession. We have ge 
 nial senators, genial authors, genial lecturers, genial 
 doctors, genial clergymen, genial surgeons, and the next 
 thing we shall have genial hangmen." 
 
 " As to the last-named sort of person," said the cos 
 mopolitan, " I trust that the advancing spirit of geniality 
 will at last enable us to dispense with him. No mur 
 derers no hangmen. And surely, when the whole 
 world shall have been genialized, it will be as out of 
 place to talk of murderers, as in a Christianized world 
 to talk of sinners." 
 
276 THE C O N F I D E N C E - M A N . 
 
 41 To pursue the thought," said the other, " every 
 blessing is attended with some evil, and' " 
 
 " Stay," said the cosmopolitan, " that may be better 
 let pass for a loose saying, than for hopeful doctrine." 
 
 "Well, assuming the saying's truth, it would apply 
 to the future supremacy of the genial spirit, since then 
 it will fare with the hangman as it did with the weaver 
 when the spinning-jenny whizzed into the ascendant. 
 Thrown out of employment, what could Jack Ketch 
 turn his hand to ? Butchering ?" 
 
 "That he could turn his hand to it seems probable; 
 but that, under the circumstances, it would be appropri 
 ate, might in some minds admit of a question. For one, 
 I am inclined to think and I trust it will not be held 
 fastidiousness that it would hardly be suitable to the 
 dignity of our nature, that an individual, once employed 
 in attending the last hours of human unfortunates, 
 should, that office being extinct, transfer himself to the 
 business of attending the last hours of unfortunate cat 
 tle. I would suggest that the individual turn valet a 
 vocation to which he would, perhaps, appear not wholly 
 inadapted by his familiar dexterity about the person. In 
 particular, for giving a finishing tie to a gentleman's 
 cravat, I know few who would, in all likelihood, be, 
 from previous occupation, better fitted than the profes 
 sional person in question." 
 
 "Are you in earnest?" regarding the serene speaker 
 with unaffected curiosity ; " are you really in earnest ?" 
 
 "I trust I am never otherwise," was the mildly earn 
 est reply ; "but talking of the advance of geniality, I 
 
POETICAL EULOGY OF THE PRESS. 277 
 
 am not without hopes that it will eventually exert its 
 influence even upon so difficult a subject as the misan 
 thrope." 
 
 " A genial misanthrope ! I thought I had stretched 
 the rope pretty hard in talking of genial hangmen. A 
 genial misanthrope is no more conceivable than a surly 
 philanthropist." 
 
 " True," lightly depositing in an unbroken little 
 cylinder the ashes of his cigar, "true, the two you 
 name are well opposed." 
 
 " Why, you talk as if there was such a being as a 
 surly philanthropist." ' 
 
 " I do. My eccentric friend, whom you call Coon- 
 skins, is an example. Does he not, as I explained to 
 you, hide under a surly air a philanthropic heart? 
 Now, the genial misanthrope, w r hen, in the process of 
 eras, he shall turn up. will be the converse of this ; un 
 der an affable air, he will hide a misanthropical heart. 
 In short, the genial misanthrope will be a new kind of 
 monster, but still no small improvement upon the origi 
 nal one, since, instead of making faces and throwing 
 stones at people, like that poor old crazy man, Timon, 
 he will take steps, fiddle in hand, and set the tickled 
 world a' dancing. In a word, as the progress of Chris- 
 tianization mellows those in manner whom it cannot 
 mend in mind, much the same will it prove with the 
 progress of genialization. And so, thanks to geniality, 
 the misanthrope, reclaimed from his boorish address, will 
 take on refinement and softness to so genial a degree, 
 indeed, that it may possibly fall out that the misanthrope 
 
278 THE CONFIDENCE-MAN. 
 
 of the coming century will be almost as popular as, I 
 am sincerely sorry to say, some philanthropists of the 
 present time would seem not to be, as witness my eccen 
 tric friend named before." 
 
 "Well," cried the other, a little weary, perhaps, of a 
 speculation so abstract, " well, however it maybe with 
 the century to come, certainly in the century which is, 
 whatever else one may be, he must be genial or he is 
 nothing. So fill up, fill up, and be genial !" 
 
 "I am trying my best," said the cosmopolitan, still 
 calmly companionable. "A moment since, we talked 
 of Pizarro, gold, and Peru; no d<tubt, now, you remem 
 ber that when the Spaniard first entered Atahalpa's trea 
 sure-chamber, and saw such profusion of plate stacked 
 up, right and left, with the wantonness of old barrels in 
 a brewer's yard, the needy fellow felt a twinge of mis 
 giving, of want of confidence, as to the genuineness of 
 an opulence so profuse. He went about rapping the 
 shining vases with his knuckles. But it was all gold, 
 pure gold, good gold, sterling gold, which how cheer 
 fully would have been stamped such at Goldsmiths' 
 Hall. And just so those needy minds, which, through 
 their own insincerity, having no confidence in man 
 kind, doubt lest the liberal geniality of this age be spu 
 rious. They are small Pizarros in their way by the 
 very princeliness of men's geniality stunned into dis 
 trust of it." 
 
 " Far be such distrust from you and me, my genial 
 friend," cried the other fervently ; " fill up, fill up!" 
 
 " Well, this all along seems a division of labor," 
 
POETICAL EULOGY OF THE PRESS. 279 
 
 smiled the" cosmopolitan. " I do about all the drinking, 
 and you do about all the genial. But yours is a nature 
 competent to do that to a large population. And now, 
 my friend," with a peculiarly grave air, evidently fore 
 shadowing something not unimportant, and very likely 
 ofclo.se personal interest; " wine, you know, opens the 
 heart, and " 
 
 "Opens it!" with exultation, "it thaws it right out. 
 Every heart is ice-bound till wine melt it, and reveal the 
 tender grass and sweet herbage budding below, with 
 every dear secret, hidden before like a dropped jewel in a 
 snow-bank, lying there unsuspected through winter till 
 spring." 
 
 " And just in that way, my dear Charlie, is one of 
 my little secrets now to be shown forth." 
 
 "Ah!" eagerly moving round his chair, "what is it?" 
 
 " Be not so impetuous, my dear Charlie. Let me 
 explain. You see, naturally, I am a man not overgifted 
 with assurance; in general, I am, if anything, diffidently 
 reserved ; so, if I shall presently seem otherwise, the rea 
 son is, that you, by the geniality you have evinced in all 
 your talk, and especially the noble way in which, while 
 affirming your good opinion of men, you intimated that 
 you never could prove false to any man, but most by 
 your indignation at a particularly illiberal passage in 
 Polonius' advice in short, in short," with extreme em 
 barrassment, " how shall I express what I mean, unless 
 I add that by your whole character you impel me to 
 throw myself upon your nobleness ; in one word, put 
 confidence in you, a generous confidence?" 
 
280 THE CONFIDENCE- MAN. 
 
 "I see, I see," with heightened interest, " something 
 of moment you wish to confide. Now, what is it, 
 Frank? Love affair?" 
 
 " No, not that." 
 
 " What, then, my dear Frank ? Speak depend upon 
 me to the last. Out with it." 
 
 " Out it shall come, then," said the cosmopolitan 
 " I am in want, urgent want, of money." 
 
CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 A METAMORPHOSIS MORE SUFRISING THAN ANY IN OVID. 
 
 " IN want of money !" pushing back his chair as 
 from a suddenly-disclosed man-trap or crater. 
 
 " Yes," naively assented the cosmopolitan, " and you 
 are going to loan me fifty dollars. I could almost wish 
 I was in need of more, only for your sake. Yes, my 
 dear Charlie, for your sake ; that you might the better 
 prove your noble kindliness, my dear Charlie." 
 
 " None of your dear Charlies," cried the other, 
 springing to his feet, and buttoning up his coat, as if 
 hastily to depart upon a long journey. 
 
 " Why, why, why?" painfully looking up. 
 
 " None of your why, why, whys !" tossing out a foot, 
 " go to the devil, sir ! Beggar, impostor ! never so 
 deceived in a man in my life." 
 
CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 SHOWING THAT THE AGE OP MAGIC AND MAGICIANS IS NOT YET OVER. 
 
 WHILE speaking or rather hissing those words, the 
 boon companion underwent much such a change as one 
 reads of in fairy-books. Out of old materials sprang a 
 new creature. Cadmus glided into the snake. 
 
 The cosmopolitan rose, the traces of previous feeling 
 vanished ; looked steadfastly at his transformed friend a 
 moment, then, taking ten half-eagles from his pocket, 
 stooped down, and laid them, one by one, in a circle 
 round him ; and, retiring a pace, waved his long tasseled 
 pipe with the air of a necromancer, an air heightened 
 by his costume, accompanying each wave with a solemn 
 murmur of cabalistical words. 
 
 Meantime, he within the magic-ring stood suddenly 
 rapt, exhibiting every symptom of a successful charm 
 a turned cheek, a fixed attitude, a frozen eye ; spell 
 bound, not more by the waving wand than by the ten 
 invincible talismans on the floor. 
 
 " Reappear, reappear, reappear, oh, my former friend ! 
 Replace this hideous apparition with thy blest shape, 
 and be the token of thy return the words, ' My dear 
 Frank.' " 
 
T H E A G E OF MAGIC, ETC. 283 
 
 " My dear Frank," now cried the restored friend, 
 cordially stepping out of the ring, with regained self- 
 possession regaining lost identity, " My dear Frank, 
 what a funny man you are ; full of fun as an egg of 
 meat. How could you tell me that absurd story of 
 your being in need ? But I relish a good joke too well 
 to spoil it by letting on. Of course, I humored the 
 thing ; and, on my side, put on all the cruel airs you 
 would have me. Come, this little episode of fictitious 
 estrangement will but enhance the delightful reality. 
 Let us sit down again, and finish our bottle." 
 
 " With all my heart," said the cosmopolitan, dropping 
 the necromancer with the same facility with which he 
 had assumed it. " Yes," he added, soberly picking 
 up the gold pieces, and returning them with a chink to 
 his pocket, "yes, I am something of a funny man now 
 and then ; while for you, Charlie," eying him in tender 
 ness, " what you say about your humoring the thing is 
 true enough ; never did man second a joke better than 
 you did just now. You played your part better than I 
 did mine ; you played it, Charlie, to the life." 
 
 " You see, I once belonged to an amateur play 
 company; that accounts for it. But come, fill up, 
 and let's talk of something else." 
 
 " Well," acquiesced the cosmopolitan, seating himself, 
 and quietly brimming his glass, " what shall we talk 
 about ?" 
 
 " Oh, anything you please," a sort of nervously 
 accommodating. 
 
 " Well, suppose we talk about Charlemont ?" 
 
284 THE CONFIDENCE-MAN. 
 
 " Charlemont ? What's Charlemont ? Who's Char- 
 lemont ?" 
 
 " You shall hear, my dear Charlie," answered the 
 cosmopolitan. " I will tell you the story of Charlemont, 
 the gentleman-madman." 
 
CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 WHICH MAY PASS FOR WHATEVER IT MAY TROVE TO BE WORTH. 
 
 BUT ere be given the rather grave story of Charle- 
 mont, a reply must in civility be made to a certain voice 
 which methinks I hear, that, in view of past chapters, 
 and more particularly the last, where certain antics ap 
 pear, exclaims : How unreal all this is ! Who did ever 
 dress or act like your cosmopolitan? And who, it 
 might be returned, did ever dress or act like harlequin? 
 
 Strange, that in a work of amusement, this severe 
 fidelity to real life should be exacted by any one, who, 
 by taking up such a work, sufficiently shows that he is 
 not unwilling to drop real life, and turn, for a time, to 
 something different. Yes, it is, indeed, strange that any 
 one should clamor for the thing he is weary of; that any 
 one, who, for any cause, finds real life dull, should yet 
 demand of him who is to divert his attention from it, 
 that he should be true to that dullness. 
 
 There is another class, and with this class we side, 
 who sit down to a work of amusement tolerantly as they 
 sit at a play, and with much the same expectations and 
 feelings. They, look that fancy shall evoke scenes differ 
 ent from those of the same old crowd round the custom- 
 
286 THE CONFIDENCE- MAN. 
 
 house counter, and same old dishes on the boarding- 
 house table, with characters unlike those of the same 
 old acquaintances they meet in the same old way every 
 day in the same old street. And as, in real life, the pro 
 prieties will not allow people to act out themselves with 
 that unreserve permitted to the stage ; so, in books of 
 fiction, they look not only for more entertainment, but, 
 at bottom, even for more reality, than real life itself can 
 show. Thus, though they want novelty, they want 
 nature, too ; but nature unfettered, exhilarated, in eifect 
 transformed. In this way of thinking, the people in a 
 fiction, like the people in a play, must dress as nobody 
 exactly dresses, talk as nobody exactly talks, act as 
 nobody exactly acts. It is with fiction as with religion : 
 it should present another world, and yet one to which 
 we feel the tie. 
 
 If, then, something is to be pardoned to well-meant 
 endeavor, surely a little is to be allowed to that writer 
 who, in all his scenes, does but seek to minister to what, 
 as he understands it, is the implied wish of the more 
 indulgent lovers of entertainment, before whom harlequin 
 can never appear in a coat too parti-colored, or cut 
 capers too fantastic. 
 
 One word more. Though every one knows how 
 bootless it is to be in all cases vindicating one's self, never 
 mind how convinced one may be that he is never in the 
 wrong; yet, so precious to man is the approbation of 
 his kind, that to rest, though but under an imaginary 
 censure applied to but a work of imagination, is no easy 
 thing. The mention of this weakness will explain why 
 
WHICH MAY PASS, ETC. 287 
 
 all such readers as may think they perceive something 
 inharmonious between the boisterous hilarity of the 
 cosmopolitan with the bristling cynic, and his restrained 
 good-nature with the boon-companion, are now referred 
 to that chapter where some similar apparent incon 
 sistency in another character is, on general principles, 
 modestly endeavored to be apologized for. 
 
CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 
 IN WHICH THE COSMOPOLITAN TELLS THE STORY OF THE GENTLEMAN- 
 MADMAN. 
 
 " CHARLEMONT was a young merchant of French 
 descent, living in St. Louis a man not deficient in 
 mind, and possessed of that sterling and captivating 
 kindliness, seldom in perfection seen but in youthful 
 bachelors, united at times to a remarkable sort of grace 
 fully devil-may-care and witty good-humor. Of course, he 
 was admired by everybody, and loved, as only mankind 
 can love, by not a few. But in his twenty-ninth year 
 a change came over him. Like one whose hair turns 
 gray in a night, so in a day Charlemont turned from 
 affable to morose. His acquaintances were passed with 
 out greeting ; while, as for his confidential friends, them 
 he pointedly, unscrupulously, and with a kind of fierce 
 ness, cut dead. 
 
 " One, provoked by such conduct, would fain have 
 resented it with words as disdainful ; while another, 
 shocked by the change, and, in concern for a friend, 
 magnanimously overlooking affronts, implored to know 
 what sudden, secret grief had distempered him. But 
 
STORY OF THE GE N TLE M AX-M ADM AX . 289 
 
 from resentment and from tenderness Charlemont alike 
 turned away. 
 
 " Ere long, to the general surprise, the merchant 
 Charlemont was gazetted, and the same day it was re 
 ported that he had withdrawn from town, but not 
 before placing his entire property in the hands of re 
 sponsible assignees for the benefit of creditors. 
 
 u Whither he had vanished, none could guess. At 
 length, nothing being heard, it was surmised that he 
 must have made away with himself a surmise, doubtless, 
 originating in the remembrance of the change some 
 months previous to his bankruptcy a change of a sort 
 only to be ascribed to a mind suddenly thrown from its 
 balance. 
 
 " Years passed. It was spring-time, and lo, one 
 bright morning, Charlemont lounged into the St. Louis 
 coffee-houses gay, polite, humane, companionable, and 
 dressed in the height of costly elegance. Not only was 
 he alive, but he was himself again. Upon meeting with 
 old acquaintances, he made the first advances, and in 
 such a manner that it was impossible not to meet him' 
 half-way. Upon other old friends, whom he did not 
 chance casually to meet, he either personally called, or 
 left his card and compliments for them ; and to several, 
 sent presents of game or hampers of wine. 
 
 " They say the world is sometimes harshly unfor 
 giving, but it was not so to Charlemont. The world 
 feels a return of love for one who returns to it as he 
 did. Expressive of its renewed interest was a whisper, 
 
 an inquiring whisper, how now, exactly, so long after 
 13 
 
290 THE CONFIDENCE- MAN. 
 
 his bankruptcy, it fared with Charlemont's purse. 
 Rumor, seldom at a loss for answers, replied that he had 
 spent nine years in Marseilles in France, and there ac 
 quiring a second fortune, had returned with it, a man 
 devoted henceforth to genial friendships. 
 
 " Added years went by, and the restored wanderer 
 still the same; or rather, by his noble qualities, grew up 
 like golden maize in the encouraging sun of good 
 opinions. But still the latent wonder was, what had 
 caused that change in him at a period when, pretty much 
 as now, he was, to all appearance, in the possession of 
 the same fortune, the same friends, the same popularity. 
 But nobody thought it would be the thing to question 
 him here. 
 
 u At last, at a dinner at his house, when all the guests 
 but one had successively departed ; this remaining 
 guest, an old acquaintance, being just enough under 
 the influence of wine to set aside the fear of touching 
 upon a delicate point, ventured, in a way which perhaps 
 spoke more favorably for his heart than his tact, to beg 
 of his host to explain the one enigma of his life. Deep 
 melancholy overspread the before cheery face of Charle- 
 mont ; he sat for some moments tremulously silent ; then 
 pushing a full decanter towards the guest, in a choked 
 voice, said : ' No, no ! when by art, and care, and time, 
 flowers are made to bloom over a grave, who would 
 seek to dig all up again only to know the mystery ? 
 The wine.' When both glasses were filled, Charlemont 
 took his, and lifting it, added lowly : * If ever, in days 
 to come, you shall see ruin at hand, and, thinking you 
 
STORY OF THE GENTLEMAN-MADMAN. 291 
 
 understand mankind, shall tremble for your friendships, 
 and tremble for your pride ; and, partly through love 
 for the one and fear for the other, shall resolve to be 
 beforehand with the world, and save it from a sin by 
 prospectively taking that sin to yourself, then will you 
 do as one I now dream of once did, and like him will 
 you suffer ; but how fortunate and how grateful should 
 you be, if like him, after all that had happened, you 
 could be a little happy again.' 
 
 " When the guest went away, it was with the per 
 suasion, that though outwardly restored in mind as in 
 fortune, yet, some taint of Charlemont's old malady 
 survived, and that it was not well for friends to touch 
 one dangerous string." 
 
CHAPTER XXXV. 
 
 IN WHICH THE COSMOPOLITAN STRIKINGLY EVINCES THE ARTLESSNESS 
 OF HIS NATURE. 
 
 " WELL, what do you think of the story of Charle- 
 mont ?" mildly asked he who had told it. 
 
 " A very strange one," answered the auditor, who had 
 been such not with perfect ease, " but is it true ?" 
 
 " Of course not ; it is a story which I told with 
 the purpose of every story-teller to amuse. Hence, if 
 it seem strange to you, that strangeness is the romance ; 
 it is what contrasts it with real life ; it is the invention, 
 in brief, the fiction as opposed to the fact. For do but 
 ask yourself, my dear Charlie," lovingly leaning over to 
 wards him, " I rest it with your own heart now, whe 
 ther such a forereaching motive as Charlemont hinted 
 he had acted on in his change whether such a motive, 
 I say, were a sort of one at all justified by the nature 
 of human society ? Would you, for one, turn the 
 cold shoulder to a friend a convivial one, say, whose 
 pennilessness should be suddenly revealed to you ?" 
 
 " How can you ask me, my dear Frank ? You know 
 I would scorn such meanness." But rising somewhat 
 disconcerted " really, early as it is, I think I must re- 
 
THE COSMOPOLITAN EVINCES, ETC. 293 
 
 tire ; my head," putting up his hand to it, " feels un 
 pleasantly ; this confounded elixir of logwood, little as I 
 drank of it, has played the deuce with me." 
 
 " Little as you drank of this elixir of logwood ? Why, 
 Charlie, you are losing your mind. To talk so of the 
 genuine, mellow old port. Yes, I think that by all 
 means you had better away, and sleep it off. There 
 don't apologize don't explain go, go I understand 
 you exactly. I will see you to-morrow." 
 
CHAPTER XXXVI. 
 
 IN WHICH THE COSMOPOLITAN IS ACCOSTED BY A MYSTIC, WHEREUPON 
 
 ENSUES PRETTY MUCH SUCH TALK AS MIGHT BE EXPECTED. 
 / 
 
 As, not without some haste, the boon companion with 
 drew, a stranger advanced, and touching the cosmopoli 
 tan, said : "I think I heard you say you would see that 
 man again. Be warned ; don't you do so." 
 
 He turned, surveying the speaker ; a blue-eyed man, 
 sandy-haired, and Saxon-looking ; perhaps five and 
 forty ; tall, and, but for a certain angularity, well made ; 
 little touch of the drawing-room about him, but a look of 
 plain propriety of a Puritan sort, with a kind of farmer 
 dignity. His age seemed betokened more by his brow, 
 placidly thoughtful, than by his general aspect, which 
 had that look of youthf illness in maturity, peculiar 
 sometimes to habitual health of body, the original gift 
 of nature, or in part the effect or reward of steady tem 
 perance of the passions, kept so, perhaps, by constitu 
 tion as much as morality. A neat, comely, almost 
 ruddy cheek, coolly fresh, like a red clover-blossom at 
 coolish dawn the color of warmth preserved by the 
 virtue of chill. Toning the whole man, was one-knows- 
 not-what of shrewdness and mythiness, strangely jum- 
 
A MYSTIC. 295 
 
 bled ; in that way, he seemed a kind of cross between 
 a Yankee peddler and a Tartar priest, though it seemed 
 as if, at a pinch, the first would not in all probability 
 play second fiddle to the last. 
 
 " Sir," said the cosmopolitan, rising and bowing with 
 slow dignity, " if I cannot with unmixed satisfaction 
 hail a hint pointed at one who has just been clinking 
 the social glass with me, on the other hand, I am not 
 disposed to underrate the motive which, in the present 
 case, could alone have prompted such an intimation. 
 My friend, whose seat is still warm, has retired for the 
 night, leaving more or less in his bottle here. Pray, sit 
 down in his seat, and partake with me ; and then, if 
 you choose to hint aught further unfavorable to the man, 
 the genial warmth of whose person in part passes into 
 yours, and whose genial hospitality meanders through 
 you be it so." 
 
 " Quite beautiful conceits," said the stranger, now 
 scholastically and artistically eying the picturesque 
 speaker, as if he were a statue in the Pitti Palace ; 
 "very beautiful:" then with the gravest interest, 
 " yours, sir, if I mistake not, must be a beautiful soul 
 one full of all love and truth; for where beauty is, 
 there must those be." 
 
 " A pleasing belief," rejoined the cosmopolitan, be 
 ginning with an even air, " and to confess, long ago it 
 pleased me. Yes, with you and Schiller, I am pleased 
 to believe that beauty is at bottom incompatible with 
 ill, and therefore am so eccentric as to have confidence 
 in the latent benignity of that beautiful creature, the 
 
296 T HE C O N F I D E X C E - M A N . 
 
 rattle-snake, whose lithe neck and burnished maze of 
 tawny gold, as he sleekly curls aloft in the sun, who on 
 the prairie can behold without wonder?" 
 
 As he breathed these words, he seemed so to enter 
 into their spirit as some earnest descriptive speakers 
 will as unconsciously to wreathe his form and sidelong 
 crest his head, till he all but seemed the creature de 
 scribed. Meantime, the stranger regarded him with 
 little surprise, apparently, though with much contem- 
 plativeness of a mystical sort, and presently said : 
 " When charmed by the beauty of that viper, did it 
 never occur to you to change personalities with him ? 
 to feel what it was to be a snake ? to glide unsuspected 
 in grass ? to sting, to kill at a touch ; your whole beau 
 tiful body one iridescent scabbard of death ? In short, 
 did the wish never occur to you to feel yourself exempt 
 from knowledge, and conscience, and revel for a while 
 in the care-free, joyous life of a perfectly instinctive, 
 unscrupulous, and irresponsible creature ?" 
 
 "Such a wish," replied the other, not perceptibly 
 disturbed, "I must confess, never consciously was 
 mine. Such a wish, indeed, could hardly occur to or 
 dinary imaginations, and mine I cannot think much 
 above the average." 
 
 " But now that the idea is suggested," said the 
 stranger, with infantile intellectuality, " does it not 
 raise the desire ?" 
 
 " Hardly. , For though I do not think I have any un 
 charitable prejudice against the rattle-snake, still, I 
 should not like to be one. If I were a rattle-snake now, 
 
A M Y S T I C 297 
 
 there would be no such thing as being genial with men 
 men would be afraid of me, and then I should be a very 
 lonesome and miserable rattle-snake." 
 
 " True, men would be afraid of you. And why ? 
 Because of your rattle, your hollow rattle abound, as 
 I have been told, like the shaking together of small, dry 
 skulls in a tune of the Waltz of Death. And here we 
 have another beautiful truth. When any creature is by 
 its make inimical to other creatures, nature in effect 
 labels that creature, much as an apothecary does a 
 poison. So that whoever is destroyed by a rattle-snake, 
 or other harmful agent, it is his own fault. He should 
 have respected the label. Hence that significant pas 
 sage in Scripture, ' Who will pity the charmer that is 
 bitten with a serpent ?' ' 
 
 " I would pity him," said the cosmopolitan, a little 
 bluntly, perhaps. 
 
 " But don't you think," rejoined the other, still main 
 taining his passionless air, " don't you think, that for a 
 man to pity where nature is pitiless, is a little presum- 
 ing?" 
 
 " Let casuists decide the casuistry, but the compassion 
 the heart decides for itself. But, sir," deepening in 
 seriousness, " as I now for the first realize, you but a 
 moment since introduced the word irresponsible in a 
 way I am not used to. Now, sir, though, out of a tol 
 erant spirit, as I hope, I try my best never to be 
 frightened at any speculation, so long as it is pursued in 
 honesty, yet, for once, I must acknowledge that you do 
 
 really, in the point cited, cause me uneasiness ; because 
 13* 
 
293 THE CONFIDENCE-MAN. 
 
 a proper view of the universe, that view which is suited 
 to breed a proper confidence, teaches, if I err not, that 
 since all things are justly presided over, not very many 
 living agents but must be some way accountable." 
 
 " Is a rattle-snake accountable ?" asked the stranger 
 with such a preternaturally cold, gemmy glance out of 
 his pellucid blue eye, that he seemed more a metaphys 
 ical merman than a feeling man ; " is a rattle-snake 
 accountable ?" 
 
 " If I will not affirm that it is," returned the other, 
 with the caution of no inexperienced thinker, " neither 
 will I deny it. But if we suppose it so, I need not say 
 that such accountability is neither to you, nor me, nor 
 the Court of Common Pleas, but to something supe 
 rior." 
 
 He was proceeding, when the stranger would have 
 interrupted him ; but as reading his argument in his eye, 
 the cosmopolitan, without waiting for it to be put into 
 words, at once spoke to it : " You object to my sup 
 position, for but such it is, that the rattle-snake's 
 accountability is not by nature manifest ; but might not 
 much the same thing be urged against man's? A 
 reductio ad absurdum, proving the objection vain. But 
 if now," he continued, "you consider what capacity 
 for mischief there is in a rattle-snake (observe, I do not 
 charge it with being mischievous, I but say it has the 
 capacity), could you well avoid admitting that that 
 would be no symmetrical view of the universe which 
 should maintain that, while to man it is forbidden to 
 kill, without judicial cause, his fellow, yet the rattle- 
 
A MYSTIC. 299 
 
 snake has an implied permit of unaccountability to 
 murder any creature it takes capricious umbrage at man 
 included ? But," with a wearied air, " this is no genial 
 talk ; at least it is not so to me. Zeal at unawares em 
 barked me in it. I regret it. Pray, sit down, and take 
 some of this wine." 
 
 " Your suggestions are new to me," said the other, 
 with a kind of condescending appreciativeness, as of 
 one who, out of devotion to knowledge, disdains not to 
 appropriate the least crumb of it, even from a pauper's 
 board ; " and, as I am a very Athenian in hailing a new 
 thought, I cannot consent to let it drop so abruptly. 
 Now, the rattle-snake " 
 
 "Nothing more about rattle-snakes, I beseech," in 
 distress; "I must positively decline to reenter upon 
 that subject. Sit down, sir, I beg, and take some of this 
 wine." 
 
 " To invite me to sit down with you is hospitable," 
 collectedly acquiescing now in the change of topics ; 
 " and hospitality being fabled to be of oriental origin, 
 and forming, as it does, the subject of a pleasing Arabian 
 romance, as well as being a very romantic thing in itself 
 hence I always hear the expressions of hospitality 
 with pleasure. But, as for the wine, my regard for 
 that beverage is so extreme, and I am so fearful of let 
 ting it sate me, that I keep my love for it in the lasting 
 condition of an untried abstraction. Briefly, I quaff 
 immense draughts of wine from the page of Hafiz, but 
 wine from a cup I seldom as much as sip." 
 
 The cosmopolitan turned a mild glance upon the 
 
300 THE C O X F I D E N C E - M A N . 
 
 speaker, who, now occupying the chair opposite him, sat 
 there purely and coldly radiant as a prism. It seemed 
 as if one could almost hear him vitreously chime and 
 ring. That moment a waiter passed, whom, arresting 
 with a sign, the cosmopolitan bid go bring a goblet of 
 ice-water. "Ice it well, waiter," said he; "and now," 
 turning to the stranger, " will you, if you please, give 
 me your reason for the warning words you first addressed 
 to me ?" 
 
 " I hope they were not such warnings as most warn 
 ings are," said the stranger ; " warnings which do not 
 forewarn, but in mockery come after the fact. And yet 
 something in you bids me think now, that whatever 
 latent design your impostor friend might have had upon 
 you, it as yet remains unaccomplished. You read his 
 label." 
 
 "And what did it say ? 'This is a genial soul.' So 
 you see you must either give up your doctrine of labels, 
 or else your prejudice against my friend. But tell me," 
 with renewed earnestness, " what do you take him for? 
 What is he ?" 
 
 " What are you? What am I ? Nobody knows who 
 anybody is. The data which life furnishes, towards 
 forming a true estimate of any being, are as insufficient 
 to that end as in geometry one side given would be to 
 determine the triangle." 
 
 " But is not this doctrine of triangles someway incon 
 sistent with your doctrine of labels ?" 
 
 "Yes; but what of that? I seldom care to be con 
 sistent. In a philosophical view, consistency is a certain 
 
A -MYSTIC. 301 
 
 level at all times, maintained in all the thoughts of 
 one's mind. But, since nature is nearly all hill and 
 dale, how can one keep naturally advancing in know 
 ledge without submitting to the natural inequalities in 
 the progress? Advance into knowledge is just like 
 advance upon the grand Erie canal, where, from the 
 character of the country, change of level is inevitable ; 
 you are locked up and locked down with perpetual 
 inconsistencies, and yet all the time you get on ; while 
 the dullest part of the whole route is what the boatmen 
 call the 'long level' a consistently-flat surface of sixty 
 miles through stagnant swamps." 
 
 " In one particular," rejoined the cosmopolitan, " your 
 simile is, perhaps, unfortunate. For, after all these 
 weary lockings-up and lockings-down, upon how much 
 of a higher plain do you finally stand ? Enough to make 
 it an object ? Having from youth been taught reverence 
 for knowledge, you must pardon me if, on but this one 
 account, I reject your analogy. But really you some 
 way bewitch me with your tempting discourse, so that 
 I keep straying from my point unawares. You tell me 
 you cannot certainly know who or what my friend is ; 
 pray, what do you conjecture him to be?" 
 
 "I conjecture him to be what, among the ancient 
 
 Egyptians, was called a " using some unknown 
 
 word. 
 
 "A ! And what is that ?" 
 
 "A is what Proclus, in a little note to his third 
 
 book on the theology of Plato, defines as " 
 
 coming out with a sentence of Greek. 
 
302 THE CONFIDENCE-MAN. 
 
 Holding up his glass, and steadily looking through its 
 transparency, the cosmopolitan rejoined: " That, in so 
 defining the thing, Proclus set it to modern understand 
 ings in the most crystal light it was susceptible of, I 
 will not rashly deny ; still, if you could put the defi- 
 tion in words suited to perceptions like mine, I should 
 take it for a favor. 
 
 "A favor!" slightly lifting his cool eyebrows; "a 
 bridal favor I understand, a knot of white ribands, a 
 very beautiful type of the purity of true marriage ; but of 
 other favors I am yet to learn ; and still, in a vague way, 
 the word, as you employ it, strikes me as unpleasingly 
 significant in general of some poor, unheroic submission 
 to being done good to." 
 
 Here the goblet of iced-water was brought, and, in 
 compliance with a sign from the cosmopolitan, was 
 placed before the stranger, who, not before expressing 
 acknowledgments, took a draught, apparently refresh 
 ing its very coldness, as with some is the case, proving 
 not entirely uncongenial. 
 
 At last, setting down the goblet, and gently wiping 
 from his lips the beads of water freshly clinging there 
 as to the valve of a coral-shell upon a reef, he turned 
 upon the cosmopolitan, and, in a manner the most cool, 
 self-possessed, and matter-of-fact possible, said: "I hold 
 to the metempsychosis ; and whoever I may be now, I 
 feel that I was once the stoic Arrian, and have inklings 
 of having been equally puzzled by a word in the current 
 language of that former time, very probably answering 
 to your word favor" 
 
A. MY STIC. 303 
 
 " Would you favor me by explaining ?" said the cos 
 mopolitan, blandly. 
 
 " Sir," responded the stranger, with a very slight 
 degree of severity, " I like lucidity, of all things, and 
 am afraid I shall hardly be able to converse satisfac 
 torily with you, unless you bear it in mind." 
 
 The cosmopolitan ruminatingly eyed him awhile, then 
 said: " The best way, as I have heard, to get out of a 
 labyrinth, is to retrace one's steps. I will accordingly 
 retrace mine, and beg you will accompany me. In 
 short, once again to return to the point : for what 
 reason did you warn me against my friend V" 
 
 " Briefly, then, and clearly, because, as before said, I 
 conjecture him to be what, among the ancient Egyp 
 tians" 
 
 " Pray, now," earnestly deprecated the cosmopolitan, 
 " pray, now, why disturb the repose of those ancient 
 Egyptians? What to us are their words or their 
 thoughts ? Are we pauper Arabs, without a house of 
 our own, that, with the mummies, we must turn squat 
 ters among the dust of the Catacombs?" 
 
 " Pharaoh's poorest brick-maker lies proudlier in his 
 rags than the Emperor of all the Russias in his hoi- 
 lands," oracularly said the stranger; "for death, though 
 in a worm, is majestic ; while life, though in a king, is 
 contemptible. So talk not against mummies. It is a 
 part of my mission to teach mankind a due reverence 
 for mummies." 
 
 Fortunately, to arrest these incoherencies, or rather, 
 to vary them, a haggard, inspired-looking man now ap- 
 
304 THE CONFIDENCE- MAN. 
 
 preached a crazy beggar, asking alms under the form 
 of peddling a rhapsodical tract, composed by himself, 
 and setting forth his claims to some rhapsodical apostle- 
 ship. Though ragged and dirty, there was about him 
 no touch of vulgarity; for, by nature, his manner was 
 not unrefined, his frame slender, and appeared the more 
 so from the broad, untanned frontlet of his brow, tangled 
 over with a disheveled mass of raven curls, throwing a 
 still deeper tinge upon a complexion like that of a 
 shriveled berry. Nothing could exceed his look of pic 
 turesque Italian ruin and dethronement, heightened by 
 what seemed just one glimmering peep of reason, insuf 
 ficient to do him any lasting good, but enough, perhaps, 
 to suggest a torment of latent doubts at times, whether 
 his addled dream of glory were true. 
 
 Accepting the tract offered him, the cosmopolitan 
 glanced over it, and, seeming to see just what it was, closed 
 it, put it in his pocket, eyed the man a moment, then, 
 leaning over and presenting him with a shilling, said to 
 him, in tones kind and considerate : " I am sorry, my 
 friend, that I happen to be engaged just now; but, 
 having purchased your work, I promise myself much 
 satisfaction in its perusal at my earliest leisure." 
 
 In his tattered, single-breasted frock-coat, buttoned 
 - meagerly up to his chin, the shatter-brain made him a 
 bow, which, for courtesy, would not have misbecome a 
 viscount, then turned with silent appeal to the stranger. 
 But the stranger sat more like a cold prism than ever, 
 while an expression of keen Yankee cuteness, now re 
 placing his former mystical one, lent added icicles to his 
 
A MYSTIC. 305 
 
 aspect. His whole air said : " Nothing from me." The 
 repulsed petitioner threw a look full of resentful pride 
 and cracked disdain upon him, and went his way. 
 
 " Come, now," said the cosmopolitan, a little reproach 
 fully, "you ought to have sympathized with that man; 
 tell me, did you feel no fellow-feeling ? Look at his 
 tract here, quite in the transcendental vein." 
 
 " Excuse me," said the stranger, declining the tract, 
 " I never patronize scoundrels." 
 
 * ; Scoundrels?" 
 
 " I detected in him, sir, a damning peep of sense 
 damning, I say ; for sense in a seeming madman is scoun- 
 drelism. I take him for a cunning vagabond, who picks 
 up a vagabond living by adroitly playing the madman. 
 Did you not remark how he flinched under my eye ?' 
 
 " Really," drawing a long, astonished breath, " I could 
 hardly have divined in you a temper so subtlely dis 
 trustful. Flinched? to be sure he did, poor fellow; 
 you received him with so lame a welcome. As for his 
 adroitly playing the madman, invidious critics might 
 object the same to some one or two strolling magi of 
 these days. But that is a matter I know nothing about. 
 But, once more, and for the last time, to return to the 
 point : why sir, did you warn me against my friend ? I 
 shall rejoice, if, as I think it will prove, your want of 
 confidence in my friend rests upon a basis equally slender 
 with your distrust of the lunatic. Come, why did you 
 warn me? Put it, I beseech, in few words, and those 
 English." 
 
 " I warned you against him because he is suspected 
 
306 THE CONFIDENCE- MAN. 
 
 for what on these boats is known so they tell me as 
 a Mississippi operator." 
 
 " An operator, ah? he operates, does he? My friend, 
 then is something like what the Indians call a Great 
 Medicine, is he ? He operates, he purges, he drains off 
 the repletions." 
 
 " I perceive, sir," said the stranger, constitutionally 
 obtuse to the pleasant drollery, " that your notion, of 
 what is called a Great Medicine, needs correction. The 
 Great Medicine among the Indians is less a bolus than a 
 man in grave esteem for his politic sagacity." 
 
 " And is not my friend politic ? Is not my friend saga 
 cious ? By your own definition, is not my friend a Great 
 Medicine ?" 
 
 " No, he is an operator, a Mississippi operator ; an 
 equivocal character. That he is such, I little doubt, 
 having had him pointed out to me as such by one de 
 sirous of initiating me into any little novelty of this 
 western region, where I never before traveled. And, 
 sir, if I am not mistaken, you also are a stranger here 
 (but, indeed, where in this strange universe is not one a 
 stranger?) and that is a reason why I felt moved to warn 
 you against a companion who could not be otherwise 
 than perilous to one of a free and trustful disposition. 
 But I repeat the hope, that, thus far at least, he has not 
 succeeded with you, and trust that, for the future, he 
 will not." 
 
 " Thank you for your concern ; but hardly can I equal 
 ly thank you for so steadily maintaining the hypothesis 
 of my friend's objectionableness. True, I but made his 
 
A MYSTIC. 307 
 
 acquaintance for the first to-day, and know little of his 
 antecedents; but that would seem no just reason why a 
 nature like his should not of itself inspire confidence. 
 And since your own knowledge of the gentleman is not, 
 by your account, so exact as it might be, you will pardon 
 me if I decline to welcome any further suggestions un 
 flattering to him. Indeed, sir," with friendly decision, 
 " let us change the subject." 
 
CHAPTER XXXVII. 
 
 THE MYSTICAL MASTER INTRODUCES THE PRACTICAL DISCIPLE. 
 
 "BOTH, the subject and the interlocutor," replied 
 the stranger rising, and waiting the return towards him 
 of a promenader, that moment turning at the further 
 end of his walk. 
 
 11 Egbert!" said he, calling. 
 
 Egbert, a well-dressed, commercial-looking gentleman 
 of about thirty, responded in a way strikingly deferen 
 tial, and in a moment stood near, in the attitude less of 
 an equal companion apparently than a confidential fol 
 lower. 
 
 " This," said the stranger, taking Egbert by the hand 
 and leading him to the cosmopolitan, " this is Egbert, a 
 disciple. I wish you to know Egbert. Egbert was the 
 first among mankind to reduce to practice the principles 
 of Mark Winsome principles previously accounted as 
 less adapted to life than the closet. Egbert," turning 
 to the disciple, who, with seeming modesty, a little 
 shrank under these compliments, "Egbert, this," with 
 a salute towards the cosmopolitan, " is, like all of us, a 
 stranger. I wish you, Egbert, to know this brother 
 stranger ; be communicative with him. Particularly if, 
 
THE MYSTICAL MASTER, ETC. 309 
 
 by anything hitherto dropped, his curiosity has been 
 roused as to the precise nature of my philosophy, I trust 
 you will not leave such curiosity ungratified. You, 
 Egbert, by simply setting forth your practice, can do 
 more to enlighten one as to my theory, than I myself 
 can by mere speech. Indeed, it is by you that I myself 
 best understand myself. For to every philosophy are 
 certain rear parts, very important parts, and these, like 
 the rear of one's head, are best seen by reflection. 
 Now, as in a glass, you, Egbert, in your life, reflect 
 to me the more important part of my system. He, who 
 approves you, approves the philosophy of Mark Win 
 some." 
 
 Though portions of this harangue may, perhaps, in the 
 phraseology seem self-complaisant, yet no trace of self- 
 complacency was perceptible in the speaker's manner, 
 which throughout was plain, unassuming, dignified, and 
 manly ; the teacher and prophet seemed to lurk more 
 in the idea, so to speak, than in the mere bearing of him 
 who was the vehicle of it. 
 
 " Sir," said the cosmopolitan, who seemed not a little 
 interested in this new aspect of matters, " you speak of 
 a certain philosophy, and a more or less occult one it 
 may be, and hint of its bearing upon practical life ; pray, 
 tell me, if the study of this philosophy tends to the 
 same formation of character with the experiences of the 
 world ?" 
 
 " It does ; and that is the test of its truth ; for any 
 philosophy that, being in operation contradictory to the 
 ways of the world, tends to produce a character at odds 
 
310 THE CONFIDENCE- MAN. 
 
 with it, such a philosophy must necessarily be but a 
 cheat and a dream." 
 
 " You a little surprise me," answered the cosmopoli 
 tan ; " for, from an occasional profundity in you, and also 
 from your allusions to a profound work on the theology 
 of Plato, it would seem but natural to surmise that, if 
 you are the originator of any philosophy, it must needs 
 so partake of the abstruse, as to exalt it above the com 
 paratively vile uses of life." 
 
 " No uncommon mistake with regard to me," rejoined 
 the other. Then meekly standing like a Raphael: " If 
 still in golden accents old Memnon murmurs his riddle, 
 none the less does the balance-sheet of every man's 
 ledger unriddle the profit or loss of life. Sir," with calm 
 energy, " man came into this world, not to sit down and 
 muse, not to befog himself with vain subtleties, but to 
 gird up his loins and to work. Mystery is in the morn 
 ing, and mystery in the night, and the beauty of mystery 
 is everywhere; but still the plain truth remains, that 
 mouth and purse must be filled. If, hitherto, you have 
 supposed me a visionary, be undeceived. I am no one- 
 ideaed one-, either ; no more than the seers before me. 
 Was not Seneca a usurer ? Bacon a courtier ? and Swe- 
 denborg, though with one eye on the invisible, did he 
 not keep the other on the main chance ? Along with 
 whatever else it may be given me to be, I am a man of 
 serviceable knowledge, and a man of the world. Know 
 me for such. And as for my disciple here," turning to 
 wards him, " if you look to find any soft Utopianisma 
 and last year's sunsets in him, I smile to think how he 
 
THE MYSTICAL MASTER, ETC. 311 
 
 will set you right. The doctrines I have taught him 
 will, I trust, lead him neither to the mad-house nor the 
 poor-house, as so many other doctrines have served cre 
 dulous sticklers. Furthermore," glancing upon him 
 paternally, "Egbert is both my disciple and my poet. 
 For poetry is not a thing of ink and rhyme, but of 
 thought and act, and, in the latter way, is by any one to 
 be found anywhere, when in useful action sought. In 
 a word, my disciple here is a thriving young merchant, 
 a practical poet in the West India trade. There," pre 
 senting Egbert's hand to the cosmopolitan, " I join you, 
 and leave you." With which words, and without bow 
 ing, the master withdrew. 
 
CHAPTER XXXVIII. 
 
 THE DISCIPLE UNBENDS, AND CONSENTS TO ACT A SOCIAL PART. 
 
 IN the master's presence the disciple had stood as one 
 not ignorant of his place ; modesty was in his expres 
 sion, with a sort of reverential depression. But the 
 presence of the superior withdrawn, he seemed lithely 
 to shoot up erect from beneath it, like one of those wire 
 men from a toy snuft-box. 
 
 He was, as before said, a young man of about thirty. 
 His countenance of that neuter sort, which, in repose, 
 is neither prepossessing nor disagreeable; so that it 
 seemed quite uncertain how he would turn out. His 
 dress was neat, with just enough of the mode to save ifc 
 from the reproach of originality ; in which general 
 respect, though with a readjustment of details, his cos 
 tume seemed modeled upon his master's. But, upon the 
 whole, he was, to all appearances, the last person in the 
 world that one would take for the disciple of any tran 
 scendental philosophy ; though, indeed, something 
 about his sharp nose and shaved chin seemed to hint 
 that if mysticism, as a lesson, ever came in his way, he 
 might, with the characteristic knack of a true New- 
 
THE DISCIPLE UNBENDS, ETC. 313 
 
 Englander, turn even so profitless a thing to some pro 
 fitable account. 
 
 " Well," said he, now familiarly seating himself in the 
 vacated chair, " what do you think of Mark ? Sublime 
 fellow, ain't he ?" 
 
 " That each member of the human guild is worthy 
 respect my friend," rejoined the cosmopolitan, "is a 
 fact which no admirer of that guild will question ; but 
 that, in view of higher natures, the word sublime, so fre 
 quently applied to them, can, without confusion, be also 
 applied to man, is a point which man will decide for 
 himself; though, indeed, if he decide it in the affirma 
 tive, it is not for me to object. But I am curious to 
 know more of that philosophy of which, at present, I 
 have but inklings. You, its first disciple among men, 
 it seems, are peculiarly qualified to expound it. Have 
 you any objections to begin now?" 
 
 " None at all," squaring himself to the table. " Where 
 shall I begin ? At first principles ?" 
 
 "You remember that it was in a practical way that 
 you were represented as being fitted for the clear expo 
 sition. Now, what you call first principles, I have, in 
 some things, found to be more or less vague. Permit 
 me, then, in a plain way, to suppose some common case 
 in real life, and that done, I would like you to tell me 
 how you, the practical disciple of the philosophy I wish 
 to know about, would, in that case, conduct." 
 
 " A business-like view. Propose the case." 
 
 " Not only the case, but the persons. The case is 
 
 this: There are two friends, friends from childhood, 
 
 14 
 
314 THE CONFIDENCE- MAN. 
 
 bosom-friends ; one of whom, for the first time, being in 
 need, for the first time seeks a loan from the other, who, 
 so far as fortune goes, is more than competent to grant 
 it. And the persons are to be you and I : you, the friend 
 from whom the loan is sought I, the friend who seeks 
 it ; you, the disciple of the philosophy in question I, 
 a common man, with no more philosophy than to know 
 that when I am comfortably warm I don't feel cold, 
 and when I have the ague I shake. Mind, now, you 
 must work up your imagination, and, as much as pos 
 sible, talk and behave just as if the case supposed were 
 a fact. For brevity, you shall call me Frank, and I will 
 call you Charlie. Are you agreed ?" 
 
 " Perfectly. You begin." 
 
 The cosmopolitan paused a moment, then, assuming a 
 serious and care-worn air, suitable to the part to be 
 enacted, addressed his hypothesized freind. 
 
CHAPTER XXXIX. 
 
 THE HYPOTHETICAL FKIEXDS. 
 
 " CHARLIE, I am going to put confidence in you." 
 
 " You always have, and with reason. What is it 
 Frank?" 
 
 " Charlie, I am in want urgent want of money." 
 
 " That's not well." 
 
 " But it will be well, Charlie, if you loan me a hun 
 dred dollars. I would not ask this of you, only my 
 need is sore, and you and I have so long shared hearts 
 and minds together, however unequally on my side, that 
 nothing remains to prove our friendship than, with the 
 same inequality on my side, to share purses. You will 
 do me the favor, won't you ?" 
 
 "Favor? What do you, mean by asking me to do 
 you a favor ?" 
 
 " Why, Charlie, you never used to talk so." 
 
 " Because, Frank, you on your side, never used to 
 talk so." 
 
 " But won't you loan me the money ?" 
 
 "No, Frank." 
 
 ".Why?" 
 
 " Because my rule forbids. I give away money, but 
 
316 THE CONFIDENCE- MAN. 
 
 never loan it ; and of course the man who calls him 
 self my friend is above receiving alms. The negotia 
 tion of a loan is a business transaction. And I will 
 transact no business with a friend. What a friend is, he 
 is socially and intellectually; and I rate social and in 
 tellectual friendship too high to degrade it on either 
 side into a pecuniary make-shift. To be sure there are, 
 and I have, what is called business friends ; that is, com 
 mercial acquaintances, very convenient persons. But 
 I draw a red-ink line between them and my friends 
 in the true sense my friends social and intellectual. 
 In brief, a true friend has nothing to do with loans ; 
 he should have a soul above loans. Loans are such 
 unfriendly accommodations as are to be had from the 
 soulless corporation of a bank, by giving 'the regular 
 security and paying the regular discount." 
 
 " An unfriendly accommodation ? Do those words go 
 together handsomely ?" 
 
 "Like the poor farmer's team, of an old man and 
 a cow not handsomely, but to the purpose. Look, 
 Frank, a loan of money on" interest is a sale of money 
 on credit. To sell a thing on credit may be an 
 accommodation, but where is the friendliness? Few 
 men in their senses, except operators, borrow money on 
 interest, except upon a necessity akin to starvation. 
 Well, now, where is the friendliness of my letting a 
 starving man have, say, the money's worth of a barrel of 
 flour upon the condition that, on a given day, he shall let 
 me have the money's worth of a barrel and a half of flour ; 
 especially if I add this further proviso, that if he fail so 
 
THE HYPOTHETICAL FRIENDS. 317 
 
 to do, I shall then, to secure to myself the money's 
 worth of my barrel and his half barrel, put his heart up 
 at public auction, and, as it is cruel to part families, 
 throw in his wife's and children's ?" 
 
 "I understand," with a pathetic shudder; " but even 
 did it come to that, such a step on the creditor's part, 
 let us, for the honor of human nature, hope, were less 
 the intention than the contingency." 
 
 " But, Frank, a contingency not unprovided for in 
 the taking beforehand of due securities." 
 
 " Still, Charlie, was not the loan in the first place a 
 friend's act?" 
 
 " And the auction in the last place an enemy's act. 
 Don't you see ? The enmity lies couched in the friend 
 ship, just as the ruin in the relief." 
 
 " I must be very stupid to-day, Charlie, but really, 
 I can't understand this. Excuse me, my dear friend, but 
 it strikes me that in going into the philosophy of the 
 subject, you go somewhat out of your depth." 
 
 " So said the incautious wader-out to the ocean ; but 
 the ocean replied: 'It is just the other way, my wet 
 friend,' and drowned him." 
 
 " That, Charlie, is a fable about as unjust to the 
 ocean, as some of -ZEsop's are to the animals. The ocean 
 is a magnanimous element, and would scorn to assassi 
 nate a poor fellow, let alone taunting him in the act. 
 But I don't understand what you say about enmity 
 couched in friendship, and rifin in relief." 
 
 "I will illustrate, Frank. The needy man is a train 
 slipped off the rail. He who loans him money on inter- 
 
THE CONFIDENCE- MAN. 
 
 est is the one who, by way of accommodation, helps 
 get the train back where it belongs ; but then, by way 
 of making all square, and a little more, telegraphs to an 
 agent, thirty miles a-head by a precipice, to throw just 
 there, on his account, a beam across the track. Your 
 needy man's principle-and-interest friend is, I say 
 again, a friend with an enmity in reserve. No, no, my 
 dear friend, no interest for me. I scorn interest." 
 
 " Well, Charlie, none need you charge. Loan me 
 without interest." 
 
 " That would be alms again." 
 " Alms, if the sum borrowed is returned ?" 
 " Yes : an alms, not of the principle, but the inter 
 est." 
 
 "Well, I am in sore need, so I will not decline the 
 alms. Seeing that it is you, Charlie, gratefully will I 
 accept the alms of the interest. No humiliation be 
 tween friends." 
 
 " Now, how in the refined view of friendship can you 
 suffer yourself to talk so, my dear Frank. It pains me. 
 For though I am not of the sour mind of Solomon, that, 
 in the hour of need, a stranger is better than a brother ; 
 yet, I entirely agree with my sublime master, who, in his 
 Essay on Friendship, says so nobly, that if he want a 
 terrestrial convenience, not to his friend celestial (or 
 friend social and intellectual) would he go ; no : for his 
 terrestial convenience, to his friend terrestrial (or hum 
 bler business-friend) he goes. Very lucidly he adds the 
 reason : Because, for the superior nature, which on no 
 account can ever descend to do good, to be annoyed 
 
THE HYPOTHETICAL FRIENDS. 319 
 
 with requests to do it, when the inferior one, which by 
 no instruction can ever rise above that capacity, stands 
 always inclined to it this is unsuitable." 
 
 " Then I will not consider you as my friend celestial, 
 but as the other." 
 
 "It racks me to come to that; but, to oblige you, I'll 
 do it. We are business friends ; business is business. 
 You want to negotiate a loan. Very good. On what 
 paper ? Will you pay three per cent, a month ? Where 
 is your security?" 
 
 " Surely, you will not exact those formalities from 
 your old schoolmate him with whom you have so often 
 sauntered down the groves of Academe, discoursing of 
 the beauty of virtue, and the grace that is in kindliness 
 and all for so paltry a sum. Security ? Our being fellow- 
 academics, and friends from childhood up, is security." 
 
 " Pardon me, my dear Frank, our being fellow-acade 
 mics is the worst of securities ; while, our having been 
 friends from childhood up is just no security at all. 
 You forget we are now business friends." 
 
 " And you, on your side, forget, Charlie, that as your 
 business friend I can give you no security ; my need be 
 ing so sore that I cannot get an indorser." 
 
 " No indorser, then, no business loan." 
 
 " Since then, Charlie, neither as the one nor the other 
 sort of friend you have defined, can I prevail with you ; 
 how if, combining the two, I sue as both?" 
 
 " Are you a centaur?" 
 
 " When all is said then, what good have I of your 
 
 friendship, regarded in what light you will ?" 
 14* 
 
320 THE CONFIDENCE- MAN. 
 
 " The good which is in the philosophy of Mark Win 
 some, as reduced to practice by a practical disciple." 
 
 " And why don't you add, much good may the philo 
 sophy of Mark Winsome do me? Ah," turning invok- 
 ingly, " what is friendship, if it be not the helping hand 
 and the feeling heart, the good Samaritan pouring out 
 at need the purse as the vial !" 
 
 " Now, my dear Frank, don't be childish. Through 
 tears never did man see his way in the dark. I should 
 hold you unworthy that sincere friendship I bear you, 
 could I think that friendship in the ideal is too lofty for 
 you to conceive. And let me tell you, my dear Frank, 
 that you would seriously shake the foundations of our 
 love, if ever again you should repeat the present scene. 
 The philosophy, which is mine in the strongest way, 
 teaches plain-dealing. Let me, then, now, as at the most 
 suitable time, candidly disclose certain circumstances 
 you seem in ignorance of. Though our friendship began 
 in boyhood, think not that, on my side at least, it began 
 injudiciously. Boys are little men, it is said. You, I 
 juvenilely picked out for my friend, for your favorable 
 points at the time ; not the least of which were your good 
 manners, handsome dress, and your parents' rank and 
 repute of wealth. In short, like any grown man, boy 
 though I was, I went into the market and chose me my 
 mutton, not for its leanness, but its fatness. In other 
 words, there seemed in you, the schoolboy .who always 
 had silver in his pocket, a reasonable probability that 
 you would never stand in lean need of fat succor ; and if 
 my early impression has. not been verified by the event, 
 
THE HYPOTHETICAL FRIENDS. 321 
 
 it is only because of the caprice of fortune producing a 
 fallibility of human expectations, however discreet." 
 
 " Oh, that I should listen to this cold-blooded disclo 
 sure !" 
 
 " A little cold blood in your ardent veins, my dear 
 Frank, wouldn't do you any harm, let me tell you. 
 Cold-blooded ? You say that, because my disclosure 
 seems to involve a vile prudence on my side. But not 
 so. My reason for choosing you in part for the points I 
 have mentioned, was solely with a view of preserving 
 inviolate the delicacy of the connection. For do but 
 think of it what more distressing to delicate friendship, 
 formed early, than your friend's eventually, in manhood, 
 dropping in of a rainy night for his little loan of five 
 dollars or so? Can delicate friendship stand that? 
 And, on the other side, would delicate friendship, so 
 long as it retained its delicacy, do that ? Would you 
 not instinctively say of your dripping friend in the entry, 
 * I have been deceived, fraudulently deceived, in this 
 man ; he is no true friend that, in platonic love to de 
 mand love-rites ?' ' 
 
 "And rites, doubly rights, they are, cruel Charlie !" 
 
 " Take it how you will, heed well how, by too impor 
 tunately claiming those rights, as you call them, you 
 shake those foundations I hinted of. For though, as it 
 turns out, I, in my early friendship, built me a fair house 
 on a poor site ; yet such pains and cost have I lavished 
 on that house, that, after all, it is dear to me. No, I 
 would not lose the sweet boon of your friendship, Frank. 
 But beware." 
 
322 THE CONFIDENCE-MAN. 
 
 " And of what? Of being in need? Oh, Charlie ! 
 you talk not to a god, a being who in himself holds his 
 own estate, but to a man who, being a man, is the sport 
 of fate's wind and wave, and who mounts towards heaven 
 or sinks towards hell, as the billows roll him in trough 
 or on crest." 
 
 " Tut ! Frank. Man is no such poor devil as that 
 comes to no poor drifting sea-weed of the universe. 
 Man has a soul ; which, if he will, puts him beyond for 
 tune's finger and the future's spite. Don't whine like 
 fortune's whipped dog, Frank, or by the heart of a true 
 friend, I will cut ye." 
 
 " Cut me you have already, cruel Charlie, and to the 
 quick. Call to mind the days we went nutting, the 
 times we walked in the woods, arms wreathed about 
 each other, showing trunks invined like the trees : oh, 
 Charlie !" 
 
 " Pish ! we were boys." 
 
 " Then lucky the fate of the first-born of Egypt, cold 
 in the grave ere maturity struck them with a sharper 
 frost. Charlie ?" 
 
 " Fie ! you're a girl." 
 
 " Help, help, Charlie, I want help !" 
 
 " Help ? to say nothing of the friend, there is some 
 thing wrong about the man who wants help. There is 
 somewhere a defect, a want, in brief, a need, a crying 
 need, somewhere about that man." 
 
 " So there is, Charlie. Help, Help !" 
 
 " How foolish a cry, when to implore help, is itself 
 the proof of undesert of it. 
 
THE HYPOTHETICAL FRIENDS. 323 
 
 " Oh, "this, all along, is not you, Charlie, but some 
 ventriloquist who usurps your larynx. It is Mark Win 
 some that speaks, not Charlie. 
 
 " If so, thank heaven, the voice of Mark Winsome is 
 not alien but congenial to my larynx. If the philoso 
 phy of that illustrious teacher find little response among 
 mankind at large, it is less that they do not possess 
 teachable tempers, than because they are so unfortunate 
 as not to have natures predisposed to accord with him. 
 
 " Welcome, that compliment to humanity," exclaimed 
 Frank with energy, "the truer because unintended. 
 And long in this respect may humanity remain what 
 you affirm it. And long it will ; since humanity, in 
 wardly feeling how subject it is to straits, and hence 
 how precious is help, will, for selfishness' sake, if no 
 other, long postpone ratifying a philosophy that banishes 
 help from the world. But Charlie, Charlie ! speak as 
 you used to ; tell me you will help me. Were the case 
 reversed, not less freely would I loan you the money 
 than you would ask me to loan it. 
 
 " /ask? Jask a loan? Frank, by this hand, under 
 no circumstances would I accept a loan, though with 
 out asking pressed on me. The experience of China 
 Aster might warn me." 
 
 " And what was that ?" 
 
 " Not very unlike the experience of the man that 
 built himself a palace of moon-beams, and when the moon 
 set was surprised that his palace vanished with it. I 
 will tell you about China Aster. I wish I could do so 
 in my own words, but unhappily the original story- 
 
324 THE COX FIDE XCE-MAN. 
 
 teller here has so tyrannized over me, that it is quite 
 impossible for me to repeat his incidents without sliding 
 into his style. I forewarn you of this, that you may 
 not think me so maudlin as, in some parts, the story 
 would seem to make its narrator. It is too bad that 
 any intellect, especially in so small a matter, should 
 have such power to impose itself upon another, against 
 its best exerted will, too. However, it is satisfaction to 
 know that the main moral, to which all tends, I fully 
 approve. But, to begin." 
 
CHAPTER XL. 
 
 IN WHICH THE STORY OF CHINA ASTER IS AT SECOND-HAND TOLD BY 
 ONE WHO, WHILE NOT DISAPPROVING THE MORAL, DISCLAIMS THE 
 SPIRIT OF THE STYLE. 
 
 " CHINA ASTER was a young candle-maker of Marietta, 
 at the mouth of the Muskingum one whose trade would 
 seem a kind of subordinate branch of that parent craft 
 and mystery of the hosts of heaven, to be the means, 
 effectively or otherwise, of shedding some light through 
 the darkness of a planet benighted. But he made little 
 money by the business. Much ado had poor China 
 Aster and his family to live ; he could, if he chose, light 
 up from his stores a whole street, but not so easily 
 could he light up with prosperity the hearts of his 
 household. 
 
 " Now, China Aster, it so happened, had a friend, 
 Orchis, a shoemaker ; one whose calling it is to defend 
 the understandings of men from naked contact with the 
 substance of things : a very useful vocation, and which, 
 spite of all the wiseacres may prophesy, will hardly go 
 out of fashion so long as rocks are hard and flints will 
 gall. All at once, by a capital prize in a lottery, this 
 useful shoemaker was raised from a bench to a sofa. A 
 small nabob was the shoemaker now, and the under 
 standings of men, let them shift for themselves. Not 
 
326 THE CONFIDENCE-MAN. 
 
 that Orchis was, by prosperity, elated into heartlessness 
 Not at all. Because, in his fine apparel, strolling one 
 morning into the candlery, and gayly switching about 
 at the candle-boxes with his gold-headed cane while 
 poor China Aster, with his greasy paper cap and leather 
 apron, was selling one candle for one penny to a poor 
 orange-woman, who, with the patronizing coolness of a 
 liberal customer, required it to be carefully rolled up 
 and tied in a half sheet of paper lively Orchis, the 
 woman being gone, discontinued his gay switchings and 
 said : * This is poor business for you, friend China 
 Aster ; your capital is too small. You must drop this 
 vile tallow and hold up pure spermaceti to the world. 
 I tell you what it is, you shall have one thousand dol 
 lars to extend with. In fact, you must make money, 
 China Aster. I don't like to see your little boy paddling 
 about without shoes, as he does.' 
 
 " * Heaven bless your goodness, friend Orchis,' replied 
 the candle-maker, 'but don't take it illy if I call to 
 mind the word of my uncle, the blacksmith, who, when 
 a loan was offered him, declined it, saying : " To ply my 
 own hammer, light though it be, I think best, rather 
 than piece it out heavier by welding to it a bit off a 
 neighbor's hammer, though that may have some weight 
 to spare ; otherwise, were the borrowed bit suddenly 
 wanted again, it might not split off at the welding, but 
 too much to one side or the other." 
 
 " ' Nonsense, friend China Aster, don't be so honest ; 
 your boy is barefoot. Besides, a rich man lose by a 
 poor man ? Or a friend be the worse by a friend ? 
 
THE STORY OF CHINA ASTER. 327 
 
 China Aster, I am afraid that, in leaning over into your 
 vats here, this morning, you have spilled out your wis 
 dom. Hush ! I won't hear any more. Where's your 
 desk ? Oh, here.' With that, Orchis dashed off a check 
 on his bank, and off-handedly presenting it, said : 
 * There, friend China Aster, is your one thousand dol 
 lars ; when you make it ten thousand, as you soon 
 enough will (for experience, the only true knowledge, 
 teaches me that, for every one, good luck is in store), 
 then, China Aster, why, then you can return me the 
 money or not, just as you please. But, in any event, 
 give yourself no concern, for I shall never demand pay 
 ment.' 
 
 " Now, as kind heaven will so have it that to a 
 hungry man bread is a great temptation, and, therefore, 
 he is not too harshly to be blamed, if, when freely 
 offered, he take it, even though it be uncertain whether 
 he shall ever be able to reciprocate ; so, to a poor man, 
 proffered money is equally enticing, and the worst that 
 can be said of him, if he accept it, is just what can be 
 said in the other case of the hungry man. In short, the 
 poor candle-maker's scrupulous morality succumbed to 
 his unscrupulous necessity, as is now and then apt to be 
 the case. He took the check, and was about carefully 
 putting it away for the present, when Orchis, switching 
 about again with his gold-headed cane, said : ' By-the- 
 way, China Aster, it don't mean anything, but suppose 
 you make a little memorandum of this ; won't do any 
 harm, you know.' So China Aster gave Orchis his note 
 for one thousand dollars on demand. Orchis took it, and 
 
328 - THE CONFIDENCE-MAN. 
 
 looked at it a moment, ' Pooh, I told you, friend China 
 Aster, I wasn't going ever to make any demand. 1 Then 
 tearing up the note, and switching away again at the 
 candle-boxes, said, carelessly ; Put it at four years.' 
 So China Aster gave Orchis his note for one thousand 
 dollars at four years. You see I'll never trouble you 
 about this,' said Orchis, slipping it in his pocket-book, 
 ' give yourself no further thought, friend China Aster, 
 than how best to invest your money. And don't forget 
 my hint about spermaceti. Go into that, and I'll buy 
 all my light of you,' with which encouraging words, he, 
 with wonted, rattling kindness, took leave. 
 
 " China Aster remained standing just where Orchis 
 had left him ; when, suddenly, two elderly friends, 
 having nothing better to do, dropped in for a chat. 
 The chat over, China Aster, in greasy cap and apron, 
 ran after Orchis, and said : * Friend Orchis, heaven 
 will reward you for your good intentions, but here is 
 your check, and now give me my note.' 
 
 " ' Your honesty is a bore, China Aster,' said Orchis, not 
 without displeasure. ' I won't take the check from you.' 
 
 11 ' Then you must take it from the pavement, Orchis,' 
 said China Aster ; and, picking up a stone, he placed 
 the check under it on the walk. 
 
 " ' China Aster,' said Orchis, inquisitively eying him, 
 after my leaving the candlery just now, what asses 
 dropped in there to advise with you, that now you hur 
 ry after me, and act so like a fool ? Shouldn't wonder 
 if it was those two old asses that the boys nickname 
 Old Plain Talk and Old Prudence.' 
 
THE STORY OF CHINA ASTER. 329 
 
 " * Yes, it was those two, Orchis, but don't call them 
 names.' 
 
 " ' A brace of spavined old croakers. Old Plain Talk 
 had a shrew for a wife, and that's made him shrewish ; 
 and Old Prudence, when a boy, broke down in an apple- 
 stall, and that discouraged him for life. No better sport 
 for a knowing spark like me than to hear Old Plain Talk 
 wheeze out his sour old saws, while Old Prudence stands 
 by, leaning on his staff, wagging his frosty old pow, and 
 chiming in at every clause.' 
 
 " ' How can you speak so, friend Orchis, of those who 
 were my father's friends ?' 
 
 " ' Save me from my friends, if those old croakers were 
 Old Honesty's friends. I call your father so, for every 
 one used to. Why did they let him go in his old age on 
 the town? Why, China Aster, I've often heard from 
 my mother, the chronicler, that those two old fellows, 
 with Old Conscience as the boys called the crabbed old 
 quaker, that's dead now they three used to go to the 
 poor-house when your father was there, and get round 
 his bed, and talk to him for all the world as Eliphaz, 
 Bildad, and Zophar did to poor old pauper Job. Yes, 
 Job's comforters were Old Plain Talk, and Old Pru 
 dence, and Old Conscience, to your poor old father. 
 Friends ? I should like to know who you call foes ? 
 With their everlasting croaking and reproaching they 
 tormented poor Old Honesty, your father, to death.' 
 
 " At these words, recalling the sad end of his worthy 
 parent, China Aster could not restrain some tears. Upon 
 which Orchis said: 'Why, China Aster, you are the 
 
330 THE CONFIDENCE-MAN. 
 
 dolefulest creature. Why don't you, China Aster, take 
 a bright view of life ? You will never get on in your 
 business or anything else, if you don't take the bright view 
 of life. It's the ruination of a man to take the dismal 
 one.' Then, gayly poking at him with his gold-headed 
 cane, * Why don't you, then ? Why don't you be bright 
 and hopeful, like me ? Why don't you have confidence, 
 China Aster?' 
 
 "'I'm sure I don't know, friend Orchis,' sober 
 ly replied China Aster, ' but may be my not having 
 drawn a lottery-prize, like you, may make some differ 
 ence.' 
 
 " 'Nonsense! before I knew anything about the prize 
 I was gay as a lark, just as gay as I am now. In fact, 
 it has always been a principle with me to hold to the 
 bright view.' 
 
 " Upon this, China Aster looked a little hard at Orchis, 
 because the truth was, that until the lucky prize came 
 to him, Orchis had gone under the nickname of Doleful 
 Dumps, he having been before times of a hypochondriac 
 turn, so much so as to save up and put by a few dollars 
 of his scanty earnings against that rainy day he used to 
 groan so much about. 
 
 " I tell you what it is, now, friend China Aster,' said 
 Orchis, pointing down to the check under the stone, and 
 then slapping his pocket, '.the check shall lie there if 
 you say so, but your note shan't keep it company. In 
 fact, China Aster^ I am too sincerely your friend to take 
 advantage of a passing fit of the blues in you. You shall 
 reap the benefit of my friendship.' With which, but- 
 
THE STORY OF CHINA ASTER. 331 
 
 toning up his coat in a jiffy, away he ran., leaving the 
 check behind. 
 
 " At first, China Aster was going to tear it up, but 
 thinking that this ought not to be done except in the 
 presence of the drawer of the check, he mused a while, 
 and picking it up, trudged back to the candlery, fully 
 resolved to call upon Orchis soon as his day's work was 
 over, arid destroy the check before his eyes. But it so 
 happened that when China Aster called, Orchis was out, 
 and, having waited for him a weary time in vain, China 
 Aster went home, still with the check, but still resolved 
 not to keep it another day. Bright and early next 
 morning he would a second time go after Orchis, and 
 would, no doubt, make a sure thing of it, by finding him 
 in his bed ; for since the lottery-prize came to him, Or 
 chis, besides becoming more cheery, had also grown a 
 little lazy. But as destiny woultf have it, that same 
 night China Aster had a dream, in which a being in the 
 guise of a smiling angel, and holding a kind of cornu 
 copia in her hand, hovered over him, pouring down 
 showers of small gold dollars, thick as kernels of corn. 
 ' I am Bright Future, friend China Aster,' said the an 
 gel, ' and if you do what friend Orchis would have you 
 do, just see what will come of it.' With which Bright 
 Future, with another swing of her cornucopia, poured 
 such another shower of small gold dollars upon him, 
 that it seemed to bank him up all round, and he waded 
 about in it like a maltster in malt. 
 
 "Now, dreams are wonderful things, as everybody 
 knows so wonderful, indeed, that some people stop not 
 
332 THE CONFIDENCE- MAN. 
 
 short of ascribing them directly to heaven ; and China 
 Aster, who was of a proper turn of mind in everything, 
 thought that in consideration of the dream, it would be 
 but well to wait a little, ere seeking Orchis again. Dur 
 ing the day, China Aster's mind dwelling continually 
 upon the dream, he was so full of it, that when Old 
 Plain Talk dropped in to see him, just before dinner 
 time, as he often did, out of the interest he took in Old 
 Honesty's son, China Aster told all about his vision, 
 adding that he could not think that so radiant an angel 
 could deceive ; and, indeed, talked at such a rate that 
 one would have thought he believed the angel some 
 beautiful human philanthropist. Something in this sort 
 Old Plain Talk understood him, and, accordingly, in his 
 plain way, said : * China Aster, you tell me that an an 
 gel appeared to you in a dream. Now, w 7 hat does that 
 amount to but this, 'that you dreamed an angel appeared 
 to you ? Go right away, China Aster, and return the 
 check, as I advised you before. If friend Prudence were 
 here, he would say just the same thing.' With which 
 words Old Plain Talk went off to find friend Prudence, 
 but not succeeding, was returning to the candlery him 
 self, when, at distance mistaking him for a dun who had 
 long annoyed him, China Aster in a panic barred all his 
 doors, and ran to the back part of the candlery, where 
 no knock could be heard. 
 
 " By this sad mistake, being left with no friend to ar 
 gue the other side of the question, China Aster was so 
 worked upon at last, by musing over his dream, that 
 nothing would do but he must get the check cashed, and 
 
THE STORY OF CHINA ASTER. 333 
 
 lay out the money the very same day in buying a good 
 lot of spermaceti to make into candles, by which opera 
 tion he counted upon turning a better penny than he 
 ever had before in his life ; in fact, this he believed 
 would prove the foundation of that famous fortune 
 which the angel had promised him. 
 
 ''Now, in using the money, China Aster was resolved 
 punctually to pay the interest every six months till the 
 principal should be returned, howbeit not a word about 
 such a thing had been breathed by Orchis; though, 
 indeed, according to custom, as well as law, in such 
 matters, interest would legitimately accrue on the loan, 
 nothing to the contrary having been put in the bond. 
 Whether Orchis at the time had this in mind or not, 
 there is no sure telling; but, to all appearance, he never 
 so much as cared to think about the matter, one way or 
 other. 
 
 " Though the spermaceti venture rather disappointed 
 China Aster's sanguine expectations, yet he made out to 
 pay the first six months' interest, and though his next 
 venture turned out still less prosperously, yet by pinch 
 ing his family in the matter of fresh meat, and, what 
 pained him still more, his boys' schooling, he contrived 
 to pay the second six months' interest, sincerely grieved 
 that integrity, as well as its opposite, though not in an 
 equal degree, costs something, sometimes. 
 
 " Meanwhile, Orchis had gone on a trip to Europe by 
 advice of a physician ; it so happening that, since the 
 lottery-prize came to him, it had been discovered to Or 
 chis that his health was not very firm, though he had 
 
334 THE CONFIDENCE- MAN. 
 
 never complained of anything before but a slight ailing 
 of the spleen, scarce worth talking about at the time. 
 So Orchis, being abroad, could not help China Aster's 
 paying his interest as he did, however much he might 
 have been opposed to it ; for China Aster paid it to 
 Orchis's agent, who was of too business-like a turn to 
 decline interest regularly paid in on a loan. 
 
 "But overmuch to trouble the agent on that score was 
 not again to be the fate of China Aster ; for, not be 
 ing of that skeptical spirit which refuses to trust cus 
 tomers, his third venture resulted, through bad debts, in 
 almost a total loss a bad blow for the candle-maker. 
 Neither did Old Plain Talk, and Old Prudence neglect 
 the opportunity to read him an uncheerful enough lesson 
 upon the consequences of his disregarding their advice 
 in the matter of having nothing to do with borrowed 
 money. 'It's all just as I predicted,' said Old Plain 
 Talk, blowing his old nose with his old bandana. ' Yea, 
 indeed is it,' chimed in Old Prudence, rapping his staff 
 on the floor, and then leaning upon it, looking with 
 solemn forebodings upon China Aster. Low-spirited 
 enough felt the poor candle-maker ; till all at once who 
 should come with a bright face to him but his bright 
 friend, the angel, in another dream. Again the cornuco 
 pia poured out its treasure, and promised still more. 
 Revived by the vision, he resolved not to be down 
 hearted, but up and at it once more contrary to the 
 advice of Old Plain Talk, backed as usual by his crony, 
 which was to the effect, that, under present circumstan 
 ces, the best thing China Aster could do, would be to 
 
THE S T O Jl Y OF C H I X A ASTER. 335 
 
 wind up his business, settle, if he could, all his liabili 
 ties, and then go to work as a journeyman, by which 
 he could earn good wages, and give up, from that time 
 henceforth, all thoughts of rising above being a paid sub 
 ordinate to men more able than himself, for China Aster's 
 career thus far plainly proved him the legitimate son of 
 Old Honesty, who, as every one knew, had never shown 
 much business-talent, so little, in fact, that many said 
 of him that he had no business to be in business. And 
 just this plain saying Plain Talk now plainly applied 
 to China Aster, and Old Prudence never disagreed with 
 him. But the angel in the dream did, and, maugre Plain 
 Talk, put quite other notions into the candle-maker. 
 
 " He considered what he should do towards reestablish 
 ing himself. Doubtless, had Orchis been in the country, 
 he would have aided him in this strait. As it was, he 
 applied to others ; and as in the world, much as some may 
 hint to the contrary, an honest man in misfortune still 
 can find friends to stay by him and help him, even so 
 it proved with China Aster, who at last succeeded in bor 
 rowing from a rich old farmer the sum of six hundred 
 dollars, at the usual interest of money-lenders, upon the 
 security of a secret bond signed by China Aster's wife 
 and himself, to the effect that all such right and title to 
 any property, that should be left her by a well-to-do 
 childless uncle, an invalid tanner, such property should, 
 in the event of China Aster's failing to return the bor 
 rowed sum on the given day, be the lawful possession 
 of the money-lender. True, it was just as much as 
 China Aster could possibly do to induce his wife, a care- 
 
336 THE CONFIDENCE- MAN. 
 
 ful woman, to sign this bond ; because she had always 
 regarded her promised share in her uncle's estate as an 
 anchor well to windward of the hard times in which 
 China Aster had always been more or less involved, and 
 from which, in her bosom, she never had seen much 
 chance of his freeing himself. Some notion may be had 
 of China Aster's standing in the heart and head of his 
 wife, by a short sentence commonly used in reply to 
 such persons as happened to sound her on the point. 
 4 China Aster,' she would say, * is a good husband, but 
 a bad business man !' Indeed, she was a connection on 
 the maternal side of Old Plain Talk's. But had not 
 China Aster taken good care not to let Old Plain Talk 
 and Old Prudence hear of his dealings with the old 
 farmer, ten to one they would, in some way, have inter 
 fered with his success in that quarter. 
 
 " It has been hinted that the honesty of China Aster 
 was what mainly induced the money-lender to befriend 
 him in his misfortune, and this must be apparent ; for, 
 had China Aster been a different man, the money-lender 
 might have dreaded lest, in the event of his failing to 
 meet his note, he might some way prove slippery more 
 especially as, in the hour of distress, worked upon by 
 remorse for so jeopardizing his wife's money, his heart 
 might prove a traitor to his bond, not to hint that it 
 was more than doubtful how such a secret security and 
 claim, as in the last resort would be the old farmer's, 
 would stand in a court of law. But though one infer 
 ence from all this may be, that had China Aster been 
 something else than what he was, he would not have 
 
THE STORY OF CHINA ASTER. 337 
 
 been trusted, and, therefore, he would have been effectu 
 ally shut out from running his own and wife's head 
 into the usurer's noose ; yet those who, when every 
 thing at last came out, maintained that, in this view 
 and to this extent, the honesty of the candle-maker was 
 no advantage to him, in so saying, such persons said 
 what every good heart must deplore, and no prudent 
 tongue will admit. 
 
 "It may be mentioned, that the old farmer made 
 China Aster take part of his loan in three old dried-up 
 cows and one lame horse, not improved by the glanders. 
 These were thrown in at a pretty high figure, the old 
 money-lender having a singular prejudice in regard to 
 the high value of any sort of stock raised on his farm. 
 With a great deal of difficulty, and at more loss, China 
 Aster disposed of his cattle at public auction, no pri 
 vate purchaser being found who could be prevailed 
 upon to invest. And now, raking and scraping in every 
 way, and working early and late, China Aster at last 
 started afresh, nor without again largely and confident 
 ly extending himself. However, he did not try his 
 hand at the spermaceti again, but, admonished by ex 
 perience, returned to tallow. But, having bought a 
 good lot of it, by the time he got it into candles, tallow 
 fell so low, and candles with it, that his candles per 
 pound barely sold for what he had paid for the tallow. 
 Meantime, a year's unpaid interest had accrued on Or 
 chis' loan, but China Aster gave himself not so much 
 concern about that as about the interest now due to 
 
 the old farmer. But he was glad that the principal 
 15 
 
338 THE CONFIDENCE- MAN. 
 
 there had yet some time to run. However, the skinny 
 old fellow gave him some trouble by coming after him 
 every day or two on a scraggy old white horse, fur 
 nished with a musty old saddle, and goaded into his 
 shambling old paces with a withered old raw hide. All 
 the neighbors said that surely Death himself on the 
 pale horse was after poor China Aster now. And 
 something so it proved ; for, ere long, China Aster 
 found himself involved in troubles mortal enough. 
 
 At this juncture Orchis was heard of. Orchis, it seem 
 ed, had returned from his travels, and clandestinely mar 
 ried, and, in a kind of queer way, was living in Penn 
 sylvania among his wife's relations, who, among other 
 things, had induced him to join a church, or rather 
 semi-religious school, of Come-Outers ; and what was 
 still more, Orchis, without coming to the spot himself, 
 had sent word to his agent to dispose of some of his 
 property in Marietta, and remit him the proceeds. 
 Within a year after, China Aster received a letter from 
 Orchis, commending him for his punctuality in paying 
 the first year's interest, and regretting the necessity 
 that he (Orchis) was now under of using all his divi 
 dends ; so he relied upon China Aster's paying the 
 next six months' interest, and of course with the back 
 interest. Not more surprised than alarmed, China 
 Aster thought of taking steamboat to go and see Or 
 chis, but he was saved that expense by the unexpected 
 arrival in Marietta of Orchis in person, suddenly called 
 there by that strange kind of capriciousness lately cha 
 racterizing him. No sooner did China Aster hear of 
 
THE STORY OF CHINA ASTER. 339 
 
 his old friend's arrival than he hurried to call upon him 
 He found him curiously rusty in dress, sallow in cheek, 
 and decidedly less gay and cordial in manner, which 
 the more surprised China Aster, because, in former 
 days, he had more than once heard Orchis, in his light 
 rattling way, declare that all he (Orchis) wanted to 
 make him a perfectly happy, hilarious, and benignant 
 man, was a voyage to Europe and a wife, with a free 
 development of his inmost nature. 
 
 " Upon China Aster's stating his case, his rusted 
 friend was silent for a time; then, in an odd way, said 
 that he would not crowd China Aster, but still his 
 (Orchis') necessities were urgent. Could not China 
 Aster mortgage the candlery ? He was honest, and 
 must have moneyed friends; and could he not press 
 his sales of candles ? Could not the market be forced 
 a little in that particular? The profits on candles 
 must be very great. Seeing, now, that Orchis had 
 the notion that the candle-making business was a very 
 profitable one, and knowing sorely enough what an 
 error was here, China Aster tried to undeceive him. 
 But he could not drive the truth into Orchis Or 
 chis being very obtuse here, and, at the same time, 
 strange to say, very melancholy. Finally, Orchis 
 glanced off from so unpleasing a subject into the most 
 unexpected reflections, taken from a religious point 
 of view, upon the unstableness and deceitfulness of 
 the human heart. But having, as he thought, expe 
 rienced something of that sort of thing, China Aster 
 did not take exception to his friend's observations, 
 
340 THE CONFIDENCE-MAN. 
 
 but still refrained from so doing, almost as much for 
 the sake of sympathetic sociality as anything else. 
 Presently, Orchis, without much ceremony, rose, and 
 saying he must write a letter to his wife, bade his 
 friend good-bye, but without warmly shaking him by 
 the hand as of old. 
 
 " In much concern at the change, China Aster made 
 earnest inquiries in suitable quarters, as to what things, 
 as yet unheard of, had befallen Orchis, to bring about 
 such a revolution ; and learned at last that, besides tra 
 veling, and getting married, and joining the sect of 
 Gome-Outers, Orchis had somehow got a bad dyspepsia, 
 and lost considerable property through a breach of 
 trust on the part of a factor in New York. Telling 
 these things to Old Plain Talk, that man of some 
 knowledge of the world shook his old head, and told 
 China Aster that, though he hoped it might prove other 
 wise, yet it seemed to him that all he had communi 
 cated about Orchis worked together for bad omens as to 
 his future forbearance especially, he added with a 
 grim sort of smile, in view of his joining the sect of 
 Come-Outers ; for, if some men knew what was their 
 inmost natures, instead of coming out with it, they 
 would try their best to keep it in, which, indeed, was 
 the way with the prudent sort. In all which sour no 
 tions Old Prudence, as usual, chimed in. 
 
 "When interest-day came again, China Aster, by the 
 utmost exertions, could only pay Orchis' agent a small 
 part of what was due, and a part of that was made up 
 by his children's gift money (bright tenpenny pieces 
 
THE STORY OF CHINA ASTER. 341 
 
 and new quarters, kept in their little money-boxes), and 
 pawning his best clothes, with those of his wife and 
 children, so that all were subjected to the hardship of 
 staying away from church. And the old usurer, too, 
 now beginning to be obstreperous, China Aster paid 
 him his interest and some other pressing debts with 
 money got by, at last, mortgaging the candlery. 
 
 " When next interest-day came round for Orchis, not 
 a penny could be raised. With much grief of heart, 
 China Aster so informed Orchis' agent. Meantime, the 
 note to the old usurer fell due, and nothing from China 
 Aster was ready to meet it ; yet, as heaven sends its 
 rain on the just and unjust alike, by a coincidence not 
 unfavorable to the old farmer, the well-to-do uncle, the 
 tanner, having died, the usurer entered upon possession 
 of such part of his property left by will to the wife 
 of China Aster. When still the next interest-day for 
 Orchis came round, it found China Aster worse off than 
 ever; for, besides his other troubles, he was now weak 
 with sickness. Feebly dragging himself to Orchis' 
 agent, he met him in the street, told him just how it 
 was ; upon which the agent, with a grave enough face, 
 said that he had instructions from his employer not to 
 crowd him about the interest at present, but to say to 
 him that about the time the note would mature, Orchis 
 would have heavy liabilities to meet, and therefore the 
 note must at that time be certainly paid, and, of course, 
 the back interest with it ; and not only so, but, as Or 
 chis had had to allow the interest for good part of the 
 time, he hoped that, for the back interest, China Aster 
 
342 THE CONFIDENCE-MAN. 
 
 would, in reciprocation, have no objections to allowing 
 interest on the interest annually. To be sure, this was 
 not the law ; but, between friends who accommodate 
 each other, it was the custom. 
 
 " Just then, Old Plain Talk with Old Prudence turned 
 the corner, coming plump upon China Aster as the 
 agent left him ; and whether it was a sun-stroke, or 
 whether they accidentally ran against him, or whether 
 it was his being so weak, or whether it was everything 
 together, or how it was exactly, there is no telling, but 
 poor China Aster fell to the earth, and, striking his head 
 sharply, was picked up senseless. It was a day in July ; 
 such a light and heat as only the midsummer banks of 
 the inland Ohio know. China Aster was taken home 
 on a door ; lingered a few days with a wandering mind, 
 and kept wandering on, till at last, at dead of night, 
 when nobody was aware, his spirit wandered away into 
 the other world. 
 
 " Old Plain Talk and Old Prudence, neither of whom 
 ever omitted attending any funeral, which, indeed, was 
 their chief exercise these two were among the sin- 
 cerest mourners who followed the remains of the son of 
 their ancient friend to the grave. 
 
 " It is needless to tell of the executions that followed ; 
 how that the candlery was sold by the mortgagee ; how 
 Orchis never got a penny for his loan ; and how, in the 
 case of the poor widow, chastisement was tempered with 
 mercy; for, though she was left penniless, she was not left 
 childless. Yet, unmindful of the alleviation, a spirit of 
 complaint, at what she impatiently called the bitterness 
 
THE STORY OF CHINA ASTER. 343 
 
 of her lot and the hardness of the world, so preyed upon 
 her, as ere long to hurry her- from the obscurity of 
 indigence to the deeper shades of the tomb. 
 
 "But though the straits in which China Aster had left 
 his family had, besides apparently dimming the world's 
 regard, likewise seemed to dim its sense of the probity 
 of its deceased head, and though this, as some thought, 
 did not speak well for the world, yet it happened in this 
 case, as in others, that, though the world may for a time 
 seem insensible to that merit which lies under a cloud, 
 yet, sooner or later, it always renders honor where honor 
 is due ; for, upon the death of the widow, the freemen 
 of Marietta, as a tribute of respect for China Aster, and 
 an expression of their conviction of his high moral 
 worth, passed a resolution, that, until they attained ma 
 turity, his children should be considered the town's 
 guests. No mere verbal compliment, like those of some 
 public bodies ; for, on the same day, the orphans were 
 officially installed in that hospitable edifice where their 
 worthy grandfather, the town's guest before them, had 
 breathed his last breath. 
 
 " But sometimes honor maybe paid to the memory of 
 an honest man, and still his mound remain without a 
 monument. Not so, however, with the candle-maker. 
 At an early day, Plain Talk had procured a plain stone, 
 and was digesting in his mind what pithy word or two 
 to place upon it, when there was discovered, in China 
 Aster's otherwise empty wallet, an epitaph, written, 
 probably, in one of those disconsolate hours, attended 
 with more or less mental aberration, perhaps, so frequent 
 
344 THE CONFIDENCE- MAN. 
 
 with him for some months prior to his end. A memo 
 randum on the back expressed the vv^sh that it might be 
 placed over his grave. Though with the sentiment of 
 the epitaph Plain Talk did not disagree, he himself be 
 ing at times of a hypochondriac turn at least, so many 
 said yet the language struck him as too much drawn 
 out; so, after consultation with Old Prudence, he decided 
 upon making use of the epitaph, yet not without verbal 
 retrenchments. And though, when these were made, 
 the thing still appeared wordy to him, nevertheless, 
 thinking that, since a dead man was to be spoken about, 
 it was but just to let him speak for himself, especially 
 when he spoke sincerely, and when, by so doing, the 
 more salutary lesson would be given, he had the re 
 trenched inscription chiseled as follows upon the stone . 
 
 ' HERE LIE 
 
 THE REMAINS OF 
 
 CHINA ASTER THE CANDLE-MAKER, 
 
 WHOSE CAREER 
 WAS AN EXAMPLE OP THE TRUTH OF SCRIPTURE, AS FOUND 
 
 IN THE 
 SOBER PHILOSOPHY 
 
 OF 
 
 SOLOMON THE WISE; 
 FOR HE WAS RUINED BY ALLOWING HIMSELF TO BE PERSUADED, 
 
 AGAINST HIS BETTER SENSE, 
 INTO THE FREE INDULGENCE OF CONFIDENCE, 
 
 AND 
 
 AN ARDENTLY BRIGHT VIEW OF LIFE, 
 TO THE EXCLUSION 
 
 OF 
 THAT COUNSEL WHICH COMES BY HEEDING 
 
 THE 
 OPPOSITE VIEW.' 
 
 " This inscription raised some talk in the town, and 
 was rather severely criticised by the capitalist one of a 
 
THE STORY OF CHINA ASTER. 345 
 
 very cheerful turn who had secured his loan to China 
 Aster by the mortgage ; and though it also proved 
 obnoxious to the man who, in town-meeting, had first 
 moved for the compliment to China Aster's memory, 
 and, indeed, was deemed by him a sort of slur upon the 
 candle-maker, to ihat degree that he refused to believe 
 that the candle-maker himself had composed it, charg 
 ing Old Plain Talk with the authorship, alleging that 
 the internal evidence showed that none but that veteran 
 old croaker could have penned such a jeremiade yet, 
 for all this, the stone stood. In everything, of course, 
 Old Plain Talk was seconded by Old Prudence ; who, 
 one day going to the grave-yard, in great-coat and over 
 shoes for, though it was a sunshiny morning, he 
 thought that, owing to heavy dews, dampness might 
 lurk in the ground long stood before the stone, sharply 
 leaning over on his staff, spectacles on nose, spelling out 
 the epitaph word by word ; and, afterwards meeting Old 
 Plain Talk in the street, gave a great rap with his stick, 
 and said : * Friend, Plain Talk, that epitaph will do 
 very well. Nevertheless, one short sentence is want 
 ing.' Upon which, Plain Talk said it was too late, the 
 chiseled words being so arranged, after the usual man 
 ner of such inscriptions, that nothing could be inter 
 lined. 'Then,' said Old Prudence, 'I will put it in 
 the shape of a postscript.' Accordingly, with the 
 approbation of Old Plain Talk, he had the following 
 words chiseled at the left-hand corner of the stone, and 
 pretty low down : 
 
 ' The root of all was a friendly loan.' " 
 15* 
 
CHAPTER XLI. 
 
 ENDING WITH A RUPTUKE OF THE HYPOTHESIS. 
 
 " WITH what heart," cried Frank, still in character, 
 " have you told me this story ? A story I can no way 
 approve ; for its moral, if accepted, would drain me of 
 all reliance upon my last stay, and, therefore, of my last 
 courage in life. For, what was that bright view of 
 China Aster but a cheerful trust that, if he but kept up 
 a brave heart, worked hard, and ever hoped for the best, 
 all at last would go well ? If your purpose, Charlie, in 
 telling me this story, was to pain me, and keenly, you 
 have succeeded ; but, if it was to destroy my last confi 
 dence, I praise God you have not." 
 
 " Confidence ?" cried Charlie, who, on his side, 
 seemed with his whole heart to enter into the spirit of 
 the thing, " what has confidence to do with the matter? 
 That moral of the story, which I am for commending to 
 you, is this : the folly, on both sides, of a friend's helping 
 a friend. For was not that loan of Orchis to China 
 Aster the first step towards their estrangement? And 
 did it not bring about what in effect was the enmity of 
 Orchis ? I tell you, Frank, true friendship, like other 
 precious things, is not rashly to be meddled with. And 
 
RUPTURE OF T,HE HYPOTHESIS. 347 
 
 what more meddlesome between friends than a loan ? 
 A regular marplot. For how can you help that the 
 helper must turn out a creditor ? And creditor and 
 friend, can they ever be one ? no, not in the most 
 lenient case ; since, out of lenity to forego one's claim, 
 is. less to be a friendly creditor than to cease to be a 
 creditor at all. But it will not do to rely upon this 
 lenity, no, not in the best man ; for the best man, as the 
 worst, is subject to all mortal contingencies. He may 
 travel, he may marry, he may join the Gome-Outers, 
 or some equally untoward school or sect, not to speak of 
 other things that more or less tend to new-cast the 
 character. And were there nothing else, who shall 
 answer for his digestion, upon which so much depends ?" 
 
 11 But Charlie, dear Charlie " 
 
 " Nay, wait. You have hearkened to my story in 
 vain, if you do not see that, however indulgent and 
 right-minded I may seem to you now, that is no 
 guarantee for the future. And into the power of 
 that uncertain personality which, through the mu 
 tability of my humanity, I may hereafter become, 
 should not common sense dissuade you, my dear Frank, 
 from putting yourself? Consider. Would you, in 
 your present need, be willing to accept a loan from a 
 friend, securing him by a mortgage on your homestead, 
 and do so, knowing that you had no reason to feel satis 
 fied that the mortgage might not eventually be trans 
 ferred into the hands of a foe ? Yet the difference 
 between this man and that man is not so great as the 
 difference between what the same man be to-day and 
 
348 THE CONFIDENCE- MAN. 
 
 what he may be in days to come. For there is no bent 
 of heart or turn of thought which any man holds by 
 virtue of an unalterable nature or will. Even those 
 feelings and opinions deemed most identical with eter 
 nal right and truth, it is not impossible but that, as per 
 sonal persuasions, they may in reality be but the result 
 of some chance tip of Fate's elbow in throwing her dice. 
 For, not to go into the first seeds of things, and passing 
 by the accident of parentage predisposing to this or that 
 habit of mind, descend below these, and tell me, if you 
 change this man's experiences or that man's books, will 
 wisdom go surety for his unchanged convictions ? As 
 particular food begets particular dreams, so particular 
 experiences or books particular feelings or beliefs. I 
 will hear nothing of that fine babble about development 
 and its laws ; there is no development in opinion and 
 feeling but the developments of time and tide. You 
 may deem all this talk idle, Frank ; but conscience bids 
 me show you how fundamental the reasons for treating 
 you as I do." 
 
 " But Charlie, dear Charlie, what new notions are 
 these ? I thought that man was no poor drifting weed 
 of the universe, as you phrased it ; that, if so minded, 
 he could have a will, a way, a thought, and a heart of 
 his own ? But now you have turned everything upside 
 down again, with an inconsistency that amazes and 
 shocks me." 
 
 " Inconsistency ? Bah !" 
 
 " There speaks the ventriloquist again," sighed 
 Frank, in bitterness. 
 
RUPTURE OF THE HYPOTHESIS. 349 
 
 Illy pleased, it may be, by this repetition of an allu 
 sion little flattering to his originality, however much so 
 to his docility, the disciple sought to carry it off by ex 
 claiming : "Yes, I turn over day and night, with 
 indefatigable pains, the sublime pages of my master, 
 and unfortunately for you, my dear friend, I find nothing 
 there that leads me to think otherwise than I do. But 
 enough : in this matter the experience of China Aster 
 teaches a moral more to the point than anything Mark 
 Winsome can offer, or I either." 
 
 11 1 cannot think so, Charlie ; for neither am I China 
 Aster, nor do I stand in his position. The loan to China 
 Aster was to extend his business with ; the loan I seek 
 is to relieve my necessities." 
 
 " Your dress, my dear Frank, is respectable ; your 
 cheek is not gaunt. Why talk of necessities when 
 nakedness and starvation beget the only real neces 
 sities ?" 
 
 " But I need relief, Charlie ; and so sorely, that I now 
 conjure you to forget that I was ever your friend, while 
 I apply to you only as a fellow-being, whom, surely, 
 you will not turn away." 
 
 " That I will not. Take off your hat, bow over to 
 the ground, and supplicate an alms of me in the way of 
 London streets, and you shall not be a sturdy beggar in 
 vain. But no man drops pennies into the hat of a 
 friend, let me tell you. If you turn beggar, then, for 
 the honor of noble friendship, I turn stranger." 
 
 " Enough," cried the other, rising, and with a toss of 
 his shoulders seeming disdainfully to throw off the char- 
 
350 THE CONFIDENCE- MAN. 
 
 acter he had assumed. " Enough. I have had my fill 
 of the philosophy of Mark Winsome as put into action. 
 And moonshiny as it in theory may be, yet a very prac 
 tical philosophy it turns out in effect, as he himself 
 engaged I should find. But, miserable for my race 
 should I be, if I thought he spoke truth when he 
 claimed, for proof of the soundness of his system, that 
 the study of it tended to much the same formation of 
 character with the experiences of the world. Apt dis 
 ciple ! Why wrinkle the brow, and waste the oil both 
 of life and the lamp, only to turn out a head kept cool 
 by the under ice of the heart? What your illustrious 
 magian has taught you, any poor, old, broken-down, 
 heart-shrunken dandy might have lisped. Pray, leave 
 me, and with you take the last dregs of your inhuman 
 philosophy. And here, take this shilling, and at the 
 first wood-landing buy yourself a few chips to warm the 
 frozen natures of you and your philosopher by." 
 
 With these words and a grand scorn the cosmopolitan 
 turned on his heel, leaving his companion at a loss to 
 determine where exactly the fictitious character had 
 been dropped, and the real one, if any, resumed. If 
 any, because, with pointed meaning, there occurred to 
 him, as he gazed after the cosmopolitan, these familiar 
 lines : 
 
 " All the world's a stage, 
 And all the men and women merely players, 
 Who have their exits and their entrances, 
 And one man in his time plays many parts.* ' 
 
CHAPTER XLII. 
 
 UPON THE HEEL OF THE LAST SCENE THE COSMOPOLITAN ENTERS THE 
 BARBER'S SHOP, A BENEDICTION ON HIS LIPS. 
 
 "BLESS you, barber!" 
 
 Now, owing to the lateness of the hour, the barber 
 had been all alone until within the ten minutes last 
 passed; when, finding himself rather dullish company to 
 himself, he thought he would have a good time with 
 Souter John and Tarn O'Shanter, otherwise called Som- 
 nus and Morpheus, two very good fellows, though one 
 was not very bright, and the other an arrant rattle 
 brain, who, though much listened to by some, no wise 
 man would believe under oath. 
 
 In short, with back presented to the glare of his 
 lamps, and so to the door, the honest barber was taking 
 what are called cat-naps, and dreaming in his chair; so 
 that, upon suddenly hearing the benediction above, pro 
 nounced intones not unangelic, starting up, half awake, 
 he stared before him, but saw nothing, for the stranger 
 stood behind. What with cat-naps, dreams, and be 
 wilderments, therefore, the voice seemed a sort of spir 
 itual manifestation to him; so that, for the moment, 
 
352 THE CONFIDENCE -MAN. 
 
 he stood all agape, eyes fixed, and one arm in the 
 air. 
 
 "Why, barber, are you reaching up to catch birds 
 there with salt ?" 
 
 " Ah !" turning round disenchanted, " it is only a 
 man, then." 
 
 " Only a man ? As if to be but man were nothing. 
 But don't be too sure what I am. You call me man, 
 just as the townsfolk called the angels who. in man's 
 form, came to Lot's house ; just as the Jew rustics call 
 ed the devils who, in man's form, haunted the tombs. 
 You can conclude nothing absolute from the human 
 form, barber." 
 
 "But lean conclude something from that sort of 
 talk, with that sort of dress," shrewdly thought the 
 barber, eying him with regained self-possession, and not 
 without some latent touch of apprehension at being 
 alone with him. What was passing in his mind seemed 
 divined by the other, who now, more rationally and 
 gravely, and as if he expected it should be attended to, 
 said: "Whatever else you may conclude upon, it is 
 my desire that you conclude to give me a good shave," 
 at the same time loosening his neck-cloth. " Are you 
 competent to a good shave, barber ?" 
 
 "No broker more so, sir," answered the barber, whom 
 the business-like proposition instinctively made confine 
 to business-ends his views of the visitor. 
 
 "Broker? What has a broker to do with lather? 
 A broker I have always understood to be a worthy dealer 
 in certain papers and metals." 
 
THE BARBER'S SHOP. 353 
 
 " He, he !" taking him now for some dry sort of joker, 
 whose jokes, he being a customer, it might be as well 
 to appreciate, "he, he ! You understand well enough, 
 sir. Take this seat, sir," laying his hand on a great 
 stuffed chair, high-backed and high-armed, crimson- 
 covered, and raised on a sort of dais, and which seemed 
 but to lack a canopy and quarterings, to make it in 
 aspect quite a throne, " take this seat, sir." 
 
 "Thank you," sitting down; "and now, pray, ex 
 plain that about the broker. But look, look what's 
 this ?" suddenly rising, and pointing, with his long pipe, 
 towards a gilt notification swinging among colored fly 
 papers from the ceiling, like a tavern sign, " No Trust, ?" 
 " No trust means distrust ; distrust means no confidence. 
 Barber," turning upon him excitedly, " what fell sus- 
 piciousness prompts this scandalous confession ? My 
 life !" stamping his foot, "if but to tell a dog that you 
 have no confidence in him be matter for affront to the 
 dog, what an insult to take that way the whole haughty 
 race of man by the beard ! By my heart, sir ! but at 
 least you are valiant ; backing the spleen of Thersites 
 with the pluck of Agamemnon." 
 
 " Your sort of talk, sir, is not exactly in my line," 
 said the barber, rather ruefully, being now again hope 
 less of his customer, and not without return of uneasi 
 ness ; " not in my line, sir," he emphatically repeated. 
 
 " But the taking of mankind by the nose is ; a habit, 
 barber, which I sadly fear has insensibly bred in you a 
 disrespect for man. For how, indeed, may respectful 
 conceptions of him coexist with the perpetual habit of 
 
354 THE C O N F I.D E N C E - M A N . 
 
 taking him by the nose ? But, tell me, though I, too, 
 clearly see the import of your notification, I do not, as 
 yet, perceive the object. What is it?" 
 
 " Now you speak a little in my line, sir," said the 
 barber, not unrelieved at this return to plain talk ; 
 " that notification I find very useful, sparing me much 
 work which would not pay. Yes, I lost a good deal, 
 off and on, before putting that up," gratefully glancing 
 towards it. 
 
 " But what is its object ? Surely, you don't mean to 
 say, in so many words, that you have no confidence ? 
 For instance, now," flinging aside his neck-cloth, throw 
 ing back his blouse, and reseating himself on the ton- 
 sorial throne, at sight of which proceeding the barber 
 mechanically filled a cup with hot water from a copper 
 vessel over a spirit-lamp, " for instance, now, suppose I 
 say to you, * Barber, my dear barber, unhappily I have 
 no small change by me to-night, but shave me, and 
 depend upon your money to-morrow' suppose I should 
 say that now, you would put trust in me, wouldn't 
 you ? You would have confidence ?" 
 
 " Seeing that it is you, sir," with complaisance 
 replied the barber, now mixing the lather, " seeing that 
 it is you, sir, I won't answer that question. No need to." 
 
 " Of course, of course in that view. But, as a sup 
 position you would have confidence in me, wouldn't 
 you?" 
 
 " Why yes, yes." 
 
 " Then why that sign ?" 
 
 " Ah, sir, all people ain't like you," was the smooth 
 
SHOP. 355 
 
 reply, at the same time, as if smoothly to close the 
 debate, beginning smoothly to apply the lather, which 
 operation, however, was, by a motion, protested against 
 by the subject, but only out of a desire to rejoin, which 
 was done in these words : 
 
 "All people ain't like me. Then I must be either 
 better or worse than most people. Worse, you could 
 not mean ; no, barber, you could not mean that ; hardly 
 that. It remains, then, that you think me better than 
 most people. But that I ain't vain enough to believe ; 
 though, from vanity, I confess, I could never yet, by my 
 best wrestlings, entirely free myself; nor, indeed, to be 
 frank, am I at bottom over anxious to this same vanity, 
 barber, being so harmless, so useful, so comfortable, so 
 pleasingly preposterous a passion." 
 
 "Very true, sir; and upon my honor, sir, you talk 
 very well. But the lather is getting a little cold, sir." 
 
 " Better cold lather, barber, than a cold heart. Why 
 that cold sign ? Ah, I don't wonder you try to shirk 
 the confession. You feel in your soul how ungenerous 
 a hint is there. And yet, barber, now that I look into 
 your eyes which somehow speak to me of the mother 
 that must have so often looked into them before me I 
 dare say, though you may not think it, that the spirit of 
 that notification is not one with your nature. For look 
 now, setting business views aside, regarding the thing 
 in an abstract light ; in short, supposing a case, barber ; 
 supposing, I say, you see a stranger, his face accidentally 
 averted, but his visible part very respectable-looking; 
 what now, barber I put it to your conscience, to your 
 
356 THE CONFIDENCE- MAN. 
 
 charity what would be your impression of that man, 
 in a moral point of view ? Being in a signal sense a 
 stranger, would you, for that, signally set him down for 
 a knave ?" 
 
 " Certainly not, sir ; by no means," cried the barber, 
 humanely resentful. 
 
 " You would upon the face of him " 
 
 " Hold, sir," said the barbe'r, "nothing about the face ; 
 you remember, sir, that is out of sight." 
 
 " I forgot that. Well then, you would, upon the 
 back of him, conclude him to be, not improbably, some 
 worthy sort of person ; in short, an honest man : wouldn't 
 you?" 
 
 "Not unlikely I should, sir." 
 
 '* Well now don't be so impatient with your brush, 
 barber suppose that honest man meet you by night in 
 some dark corner of the boat where his face would still 
 remain unseen, asking you to trust him for a shave 
 how then ?" 
 
 " Wouldn't trust him, sir." 
 
 " But is not an honest man to be trusted ?" 
 
 " Why why yes, sir." 
 
 " There ! don't you see, now ?" 
 
 " See what ?" asked the disconcerted barber, rather 
 vexedly. 
 
 " Why, you stand self-contradicted, barber ; don't 
 you ?" 
 
 " No," doggedly. 
 
 " Barber," gravely, and after a pause of concern, 
 " the enemies of our race have a saying that insincerity 
 
THE BARBER S SHOP. 357 
 
 is the most universal and inveterate vice of man the 
 lasting bar to real amelioration, whether of individuals 
 or of the world. Don't you now, barber, by your stub 
 bornness on this occasion, give color to such a cal 
 umny ? v 
 
 " Hity-tity !" cried the barber, losing patience, and 
 with it respect ; " stubbornness ?" Then clattering 
 round the brush in the cup, "Will you be shaved, or 
 won't you ?" 
 
 " Barber, I will be shaved, and with pleasure ; but, 
 pray, don't raise your voice that way. Why, now, if 
 you go through life gritting your teeth in that fashion, 
 what a comfortless time you will have." 
 
 " I take as much comfort in this world as you or any 
 other man," cried the barber, whom the other's sweet 
 ness of temper seemed rather to exasperate than soothe. 
 
 " To resent the imputation of anything like unhap- 
 piness I have often observed to be peculiar to certain 
 orders of men," said the other pensively, and half to 
 himself, " just as to be indifferent to that imputation, 
 Ifrom holding happiness but for a secondary good and in 
 ferior grace, I have observed to be equally peculiar to 
 other kinds of men. Pray, barber," innocently looking 
 up, " which think you is the superior creature ?" 
 
 " All this sort of talk," cried the barber, still unmol- 
 lified, " is, as I told you once before, not in my line. In 
 a few minutes I shall shut up this shop. Will you be 
 shaved?" 
 
 " Shave away, barber. What hinders ?" turning up 
 his face like a flower. 
 
358 
 
 THE C O N F I DE N C E - M A N. 
 
 The shaving began, and proceeded in silence, till at 
 length it became necessary to prepare to relather a 
 little affording an opportunity for resuming the sub 
 ject, which, on one side, was not let slip. 
 
 " Barber," with a kind of cautious kindliness, feeling 
 his way, " barber, now have a little patience with me ; 
 do ; trust me, I wish not to offend. I have been think 
 ing over that supposed case of the man with the averted 
 face, and I cannot rid my mind of the impression that, 
 by your opposite replies to my questions at the time, 
 you showed yourself much of a piece with a good many 
 other men that is, you have confidence, and then again, 
 you have none. Now, what I would ask is, do you 
 think it sensible standing for a sensible man, one foot 
 on confidence and the other on suspicion ? Don't you 
 think, barber, that you ought to elect ? Don't you 
 think consistency requires that you should either say * I 
 have confidence in all men,' and take down your noti 
 fication ; or else say, *I suspect all men,' and keep it up." 
 
 This dispassionate, if not deferential, way of putting 
 the case, did not fail to impress the barber, and propor 
 tionately conciliate him. Likewise, from its pointedness, 
 it served to make him thoughtful ; for, instead of going 
 to the copper vessel for more water, as he had purposed, 
 he halted half-way towards it, and, after a pause, cup in 
 hand, said : " Sir, I hope you would not do me injus 
 tice. I don't say, and can't say, and wouldn't say, that 
 I suspect all men ; but I do say that strangers are not 
 to be trusted, and so," pointing up to the sign, '" no 
 trust." 
 
THE BARBER'S SHOP. 359 
 
 "But look, now, I beg, barber," rejoined the other 
 deprecatingly, not presuming too much upon the barber's 
 changed temper; "look, now; to say that strangers 
 are not to be trusted, does not that imply some 
 thing like saying that mankind is not to be trusted ; 
 for the mass of mankind, are they not necessarily 
 strangers to each individual man ? Come, come, 
 my friend," winningly, " you are no Timon to hold 
 the mass of mankind untrustworthy. Take down 
 your notification ; it is misanthropical ; much the same 
 sign that Timon traced with charcoal on the forehead of 
 a skull stuck over his cave. Take it down, barber ; 
 take it down to-night. Trust men. Just try the ex 
 periment of trusting men for this one little trip. Come 
 now, I'm a philanthropist, and will insure you against 
 losing a cent." 
 
 The barber shook his head dryly, and answered, " Sir, 
 you must excuse me. I have a family." 
 
CHAPTER XLIII. 
 
 VERY CHARMING. 
 
 " So you are a philanthropist, sir," added the barber 
 with an illuminated look ; " that accounts, then, for all. 
 Very odd sort of man the philanthropist. You are the 
 second one, sir, I have seen. Very odd sort of man, 
 indeed, the philanthropist. Ah, sir," again meditatively 
 stirring in the shaving-cup, " I sadly fear, lest you 
 philanthropists know- better what goodness is, than 
 what men are." Then, eying him as if he were some 
 strange creature behind cage-bars, "So you are a phi 
 lanthropist, sir." 
 
 " I am Philanthropes, and love mankind. And, what 
 is more than you do, barber, I trust them." 
 
 Here the barber, casually recalled to his business, 
 would have replenished his shaving-cup, but finding 
 now that on his last visit to the water-vessel he had not 
 replaced it over the lamp, he did so now ; and, while 
 waiting for it to heat again, became almost as sociable 
 as if the heating water were meant for whisky-punch ; 
 and almost as pleasantly garrulous as the pleasant bar 
 bers in romances. 
 
 " Sir," said he, taking a throne beside his customer 
 
VERY CHARMING. 361 
 
 (for in a row there were three thrones on the dais, as 
 for the three kings of Cologne, those patron saints of the 
 barber), " sir, you say you trust men. Well, I sup 
 pose I might share some of your trust, were it not for 
 this trade, that I follow, too much letting me in behind 
 the scenes." 
 
 " I think I understand," with a saddened look ; " and 
 much the same thing I have heard from persons in 
 pursuits different from yours from the lawyer, from 
 the congressman, from the editor, not to mention others, 
 each, with a strange kind of melancholy vanity, claim 
 ing for his vocation the distinction of affording the 
 surest inlets to the conviction that man is no better 
 than he should be. All of which testimony, if reliable, 
 would, by mutual corroboration, justify some disturbance 
 in a good man's mind. But no, no ; it is a mistake all 
 a mistake." 
 
 " True, sir, very true," assented the barber. 
 
 " Glad to hear that," brightening up. 
 
 " Not so fast, sir," said the barber ; "I agree with you 
 in thinking that the lawyer, and the congressman, and 
 the editor, are in error, but only in so far as each claims 
 peculiar facilities for the sort of knowledge in question ; 
 because, you see, sir, the truth is, that every trade or 
 pursuit which brings one into contact with the facts, 
 sir, such trade or pursuit is equally an avenue to those 
 facts." 
 
 "How exactly is that ?" 
 
 " Why, sir, in my opinion- and for the last twenty 
 years I have, at odd times, turned the matter over some in 
 
362 THE CONFIDENCE-MAN. 
 
 tnymind he who comes to know man, will not remain 
 in ignorance of man. I think I am not rash in saying 
 that; ami, sir?" 
 
 " Barber, you talk like an oracle obscurely, barber, 
 obscurely." 
 
 " Well, sir," with some self-complacency, " the barber 
 has always been held an oracle, but as for the obscurity, 
 that I don't admit." 
 
 " But pray, now, by your account, what precisely 
 maybe this mysterious knowledge gained in your trade? 
 I grant you, indeed, as before hinted, that your trade, 
 imposing on you the necessity of functionally tweaking 
 the noses of mankind, is, in that respect, unfortu 
 nate, very much so; nevertheless, a well-regulated 
 imagination should be proof even to such a provo 
 cation to improper conceits. But what I want to 
 learn from you, barber, is, how does the mere handling 
 of the outside of men's heads lead you to distrust the 
 inside of their hearts ? 
 
 "What, sir, to say nothing more, can one be forever 
 dealing in macassar oil, hair dyes, cosmetics, false mous 
 taches, wigs, and toupees, and still believe that men are 
 wholly what they look to be ? What think you, sir, are a 
 thoughtful barber's reflections, when, behind a careful 
 curtain, he shaves the thin, dead stubble off a head, and 
 then dismisses it to the world, radiant in curling au 
 burn ? To contrast the shamefaced air behind the 
 curtain, the fearful looking forward to being possibly 
 discovered there by a prying acquaintance, with the 
 cheerful assurance and challenging pride with which 
 
VERY CHARMING. 363 
 
 the same man steps forth again, a gay deception, into 
 the street, while gome honest, shock-headed fellow 
 humbly gives him the wall. Ah, sir, they may talk of 
 the courage of truth, but my trade teaches me that 
 truth sometimes is sheepish. Lies, lies, sir, brave lies 
 are the lions !" 
 
 " You twist the moral, barber ; you sadly twist it. 
 Look, now; take it this way : A modest man thrust out 
 naked into the street, would he not be abashed ? Take 
 him in and clothe him ; would not his confidence be 
 restored ? And in either case, is any reproach involved ? 
 Now, what is true of the whole, holds proportionably 
 true of the part. The bald head is a nakedness which 
 the wig is a coat to. To feel uneasy at the possibility 
 of the exposure of one's nakedness at top, and to feel 
 comforted by the consciousness of having it clothed 
 these feelings, instead of being dishonorable to a bold 
 man, do, in fact, but attest a proper respect for himself 
 and his fellows. And as for the deception, you may as 
 well call the fine roof of a fine chateau a deception, 
 since, like a fine wig, it also is an artificial cover to the 
 head, and equally, in the common eye, decorates the 
 wearer. I have confuted you, my dear barber ; I have 
 confounded you." 
 
 " Pardon," said the barber, "but I do not see that you 
 have. His coat and his roof no man pretends to palm 
 off as a part of himself, but the bald man palms off hair, 
 not his, for his own." 
 
 "Not his, barber? If he have fairly purchased his 
 hair, the law will protect him in its ownership, even 
 
364 THE CONFIDENCE- MAN. 
 
 against the claims of the head on which it grew. But 
 it cannot be that you believe what you say, barber; 
 you talk merely for the humor. I could not think so 
 of you as to suppose that you would contentedly deal 
 in the impostures you condemn," 
 
 " Ah, sir, I must live." 
 
 " And can't you do that without sinning against your 
 conscience, as you believe ? Take up some other call 
 ing." 
 
 " Wouldn't mend the matter much, sir." 
 
 " Do you think, then, barber, that, in a certain point, 
 all the trades and callings of men are much on a par? 
 Fatal, indeed," raising his hand, "inexpressibly dread 
 ful, the trade of the barber, if to such conclusions it 
 necessarily leads. Barber," eying him not without 
 emotion, " you appear to me not so much a misbeliever, 
 as a man misled. Now, let me set you on the right 
 track ; let me restore you to trust in human nature, and 
 by no other means than the very trade that has brought 
 you to suspect it." 
 
 "You mean, sir, you would have me try the experi 
 ment of taking down that notification," again pointing 
 to it with his brush ; " but, dear me, while I sit chatting 
 here, the water boils over." 
 
 With which words, and such a well-pleased, sly, snug, 
 expression, as they say some men have when they think 
 their little stratagem has succeeded, he hurried to the 
 copper vessel, and soon had his cup foaming up with 
 white bubbles, as if it were a mug of new ale. 
 
 Meantime, the other would have fain gone on with 
 
VERY CHARMING. 365 
 
 the discourse ; but the cunning barber lathered him with 
 so generous a brush, so piled up the foam on him, that 
 his face looked like the yeasty crest of a billow, and vain 
 to think of talking under it, as for a drowning priest in 
 the sea to exhort his fellow-sinners on a raft. Nothing 
 would do, but he must keep his mouth shut. Doubtless, 
 the interval was not, in a meditative way, unimproved ; 
 for, upon the traces of the operation being at last re 
 moved, the cosmopolitan rose, and, for added refresh 
 ment, washed his face and hands ; and having generally 
 readjusted himself, began, at last, addressing the barber 
 in a manner different, singularly so, from his previous 
 one. Hard to say exactly what the manner was, any 
 more than to hint it was a sort of magical ; in a benign 
 way, not wholly unlike the manner, fabled or otherwise, 
 of certain creatures in nature, which have the power of 
 persuasive fascination the power of holding another 
 creature by the button of the eye, as it were, despite 
 the serious disinclination, and, indeed, earnest protest, 
 of the victim. With this manner the conclusion of the 
 matter was not out of keeping ; for, in the end, all argu 
 ment and expostulation proved vain, the barber being 
 irresistibly persuaded to agree to try, for the remainder 
 of the present trip, the experiment of trusting men, as 
 both phrased it. True, to save his credit as a free agent, 
 he was loud in averring that it was only for the novelty 
 of the thing that he so agreed, and he required the other, 
 as before volunteered, to go security to him against any 
 loss that might ensue ; but still the fact remained, that 
 he engaged to trust men, a thing he had before said he 
 
366 THE CONFIDENCE-MAN. 
 
 would not do, at least not unreservedly. Still the more 
 to save his credit, he now insisted upon it. as a last point, 
 that the agreement should be put in black and white, 
 especially the security part. The other made no demur ; 
 pen, ink, and paper were provided, and grave as any 
 notary the cosmopolitan sat down, but, ere taking the 
 pen, glanced up at the notification, and said : " First 
 down with that sign, barber Timon's sign, there ; down 
 with it." 
 
 This, being in the agreement, was done though a little 
 reluctantly with an eye to the future, the sign being 
 carefully put away in a drawer. 
 
 " Now, then, for the writing," said the cosmopolitan, 
 squaring himself. " Ah," with a sigh, " I shall make a 
 poor lawyer, I fear. Ain't used, you see, barber, to a 
 business which, ignoring the principle of honor, holds no 
 nail fast till clinched. Strange, barber," taking up the 
 blank paper, " that such flimsy stuff as this should make 
 such strong hawsers ; vile hawsers, too. Barber," 
 starting up, " I won't put it in black and white. It 
 were a reflection upon our joint honor. I will take your 
 word, and you shall take mine." 
 
 " But your memory may be none of the best, sir. Well 
 for you, on your side, to have it in black and white, just 
 for a memorandum like, you know." 
 
 " That, indeed ! Yes, and it would help your memory, 
 too, wouldn't it, barber? Yours, on your side, being a 
 little weak, too, I dare say. Ah, barber ! how ingenious 
 we human beings are ; and how kindly we reciprocate 
 each other's little delicacies, don't we ? What better 
 
VERY CHARMING. 367 
 
 proof, now, that we are kind, considerate fellows, with 
 responsive fellow-feelings eh, barber? But to busi 
 ness. Let me see. What's your name, barber?" 
 
 "William Cream, sir." 
 
 Pondering a moment, he began to write ; and, after 
 some corrections, leaned back, and read aloud the fol 
 lowing : 
 
 "AGREEMENT 
 
 " Between 
 " FRANK GOODMAN, Philanthropist, and Citizen of the World, 
 
 "and 
 " WILLIAM CREAM, Barber of the Mississippi steamer, Fidele. 
 
 " The first hereby agrees to make good to the last any loss that may 
 come from his trusting mankind, in the way of his vocation, for the re 
 sidue of the present trip ; PROVIDED that William Cream keep out of 
 sight, for the given term, his notification of ' No TRUST,' and by no other 
 mode convey any, the least hint or intimation, tending to discourage 
 men from soliciting trust from him, in the way of his vocation, for the 
 time above specified ; but, on the contrary, he do, by all proper and 
 reasonable words, gestures, manners, and looks, evince a perfect confi 
 dence in all men, especially strangers ; otherwise, this agreement to be 
 void. 
 
 " Done, in good faith, this 1st day of April, 18 , at a quarter to 
 twelve o'clock, p. M., in the shop of said William Cream, on board the 
 said boat, Fidele." 
 
 "There, barber; will that do?" 
 
 " That will do," said the barber, " only now put down 
 your name." 
 
 Both signatures being affixed, the question was started 
 by the barber, who should have custody of the instru 
 ment ; which point, however, he settled for himself, by 
 proposing that both should go together to the captain, 
 
368 THE CONFIDENCE-MAN. 
 
 and give the document into his hands the barber hint 
 ing that this would be a safe proceeding, because the 
 captain was necessarily a party disinterested, and, what 
 was more, could not, from the nature of the present 
 case, make anything by a breach of trust. All of which 
 was listened to with some surprise and concern. 
 
 "Why, barber," said the cosmopolitan, "this don't 
 show the right spirit ; for me, I have confidence in the 
 captain purely because he is a man ; but he shall have 
 nothing to do with our affair ; for if you have no confi 
 dence in me, barber, I have in you. There, keep the 
 paper yourself," handing it magnanimously. 
 
 " Very good," said the barber, " and now nothing re 
 mains but for me to receive the cash." 
 
 Though the mention of that word, or any of its sin 
 gularly numerous equivalents, in serious neighborhood 
 to a requisition upon one's purse, is attended with a 
 more or less noteworthy effect upon the human counte 
 nance, producing in many an abrupt fall of it in others, 
 a writhing and screwing up of the features to a point 
 not undistressing to behold, in some, attended with a 
 blank pallor and fatal consternation yet no trace of 
 any of these symptoms was visible upon the countenance 
 of the cosmopolitan, notwithstanding nothing could be 
 more sudden and unexpected than the barber's de 
 mand. 
 
 " You speak of cash, barber ; pray in what connec 
 tion?" 
 
 " In a nearer one, sir," answered the barber, less 
 blandly, " than I thought the man with the sweet voice 
 
VERY CHARMING. 369 
 
 stood, who wanted me to trust him once for a shave, on 
 the score of being a sort of thirteenth cousin." 
 
 " Indeed, and what did you say to him ?'' 
 
 "I said, * Thank you, sir, but I don't see the con 
 nection.' " 
 
 " How could you so unsweetly answer one with a 
 sweet voice?" 
 
 " Because, I recalled what the son of Sirach says in 
 the True Book : An enemy speaketh sweetly with his 
 lips ;' and so I did what the son of Sirach advises in such 
 cases : ' I believed not his many words.' " 
 
 " What, barber, do you say that such cynical sort of 
 things are in the True Book, by which, of course, you 
 mean the Bible ?" 
 
 " Yes, and plenty more to the same effect. Read the 
 Book of Proverbs." 
 
 " That's strange, now, barber ; for I never happen to 
 have met with those passages you cite. Before I go 
 to bed this night, I'll inspect the Bible I saw on the 
 cabin-table, to-day. But mind, you mustn't quote the 
 True Book that way to people coming in here ; it would 
 be impliedly a violation of the contract. But you don't 
 know how glad I feel that you have for one while signed 
 off all that sort of thing." 
 
 "No, sir; not unless you down with the cash." 
 
 " Cash again ! What do you mean ?" 
 
 " Why, in this paper here, you engage, sir, to insure 
 me against a certain loss, and " 
 
 " Certain ?- Is it so certain you are going to lose ?" 
 
 "Why, that way of taking the word may not be 
 
 16* 
 
370 THE CONFIDENCE-MAN. 
 
 amiss, but I didn't mean it so. I meant a certain loss ; 
 you understand, a CERTAIN loss ; that is to say, a cer 
 tain loss. Now then, sir, what use your mere writing 
 and saying you will insure me, unless beforehand you 
 place in my hands a money-pledge, sufficient to that 
 end?" 
 
 " I see ; the material pledge." 
 
 " Yes, and I will put it low.; say fifty dollars." 
 
 " Now what sort of a beginning is this? You, barber, 
 for a given time engage to trust man, to put confi 
 dence in men, and, for your first step, make a demand 
 implying no confidence in the very man you engage 
 with. But fifty dollars is nothing, and I would let you 
 have it cheerfully, only I unfortunately happen to have 
 but little change with me just now." 
 
 " But you have money in your trunk, though ?" 
 
 " To be sure. But you see in fact, barber, you 
 must be consistent. No, I won't let you have the money 
 now ; I won't let you violate the inmost spirit of our 
 contract, that way. So good-night, and I will see you 
 again." 
 
 " Stay, sir" humming and hawing " you have for 
 gotten something." 
 
 " Handkerchief? gloves? No, forgotten nothing. 
 Good-night." 
 
 " Stay, sir the the shaving." 
 
 " Ah, I did forget that. But now that it strikes me, 
 I shan't pay you at present. Look at your agreement ; 
 you must trust. Tut ! against loss you hold the guar 
 antee. Good-night, my dear barber." 
 
VERY CHARMING. 371 
 
 With which words he sauntered off, leaving the bar 
 ber in a maze, staring after. 
 
 But it holding true in fascination as in natural phil 
 osophy, that nothing can act where it is not, so the 
 barber was not long now in being restored to his self-pos 
 session and senses ; the first evidence of which perhaps 
 was, that, drawing forth his notification from the drawer, 
 he put it back where it belonged ; while, as for the 
 agreement, that he tore up ; which he felt the more free 
 to do from the impression that in all human probability 
 he would never again see the person who had drawn it. 
 Whether that impression proved well-founded or not, 
 does not appear. But in after days, telling the night's 
 adventure to his friends, the worthy barber always 
 spoke of his queer customer as the man-charmer as 
 certain East Indians are called snake-charmers and all 
 his friends united in thinking him QUITE AN ORIGINAL. 
 
CHAPTER XLIV. 
 
 IN WHICH THE LAST THREE WORDS OP THE LAST CHAPTER ARE MADE 
 THE TEXT OF DISCOURSE, WHICH WILL BE SURE OF RECEIVING MORE 
 OR LESS ATTENTION FROM THOSE READERS WHO DO NOT SKIP IT. 
 
 una 
 
 " QUITE AN ORIGINAL :" A phrase, we fancy, rather 
 
 oftener used by the young, or the unlearned, or the un- 
 traveled, than by the old, or the well-read, or the man 
 who has made the grand tour. Certainly, the sense of 
 originality exists at its highest in an infant, and proba 
 bly at its lowest in him who has completed the circle 
 of the sciences. 
 
 As for original characters in fiction, a grateful reader 
 will, on meeting with one, keep the anniversary of that 
 day. True, we sometimes hear of an author who, at 
 one creation, produces some two or three score such 
 characters; it may be possible. But they can hardly 
 be original in the sense that Hamlet is, or Don Quixote, 
 or Milton's Satan. That is to say, they are not, in a 
 thorough sense, original at all. They are novel, or 
 singular, or striking, or captivating, or all four at 
 once. 
 
 More likely, they are what are called odd characters ; 
 but for that, are no more original, than what is called 
 
"QUITE AN ORIGINAL." 373 
 
 an odd genius, in his way, is. But, if original, whence 
 came they? Or where did the novelist pick them 
 up? 
 
 Where does any novelist pick up any character ? 
 For the most part, in town, to be sure. Every great 
 town is a kind of man-show, where the novelist goes for 
 his stock, just as the agriculturist goes to the cattle- 
 show for his. But in the one fair, new species of quad 
 rupeds are hardly more rare, than in the other are new 
 species of characters that is, original ones. Their 
 rarity may still the more appear from this, that, while 
 characters, merely singular, imply but singular forms 
 so to speak, original ones, truly so, imply original 
 instincts. 
 
 In short, a due conception of what is to be held for 
 this sort of personage in fiction would make him almost 
 as much of a prodigy there, as in real history is a new 
 law-giver, a revolutionizing philosopher, or the founder 
 of a new religion. 
 
 In nearly all the original characters, loosely account 
 ed such in works of invention, there is discernible 
 something prevailingly local, or of the age ; which cir 
 cumstance, of itself, would seem to invalidate the claim, 
 judged by the principles here suggested. 
 
 Furthermore, if we consider, what is popularly held 
 to entitle characters in fiction to being deemed original, 
 is but something personal confined to itself. The char 
 acter sheds not its characteristic on its surroundings, 
 whereas, the original character, essentially such, is like 
 a revolving Drummond light, raying away from itself 
 
374 THE CONFIDENCE- MAN. 
 
 all round it everything is lit by it, everything starts 
 up to it (mark how it is with Hamlet), so that, in cer 
 tain minds, there follows upon the adequate conception 
 of such a character, an effect, in its way, akin to that 
 which in Genesis attends upon the beginning of 
 things. 
 
 For much the same reason that there is but one 
 planet to one orbit, so can there be but one such origin 
 al character to one work of invention. Two would 
 conflict to chaos. In this view, to say that there are 
 more than one to a book, is good presumption there is 
 none at all. But for new, singular, striking, odd, eccen 
 tric, and all sorts of entertaining and instructive char 
 acters, a good fiction may be full of them. To produce 
 such characters, an author, beside other things, must 
 have seen much, and seen through much : to produce 
 but one original character, he must have had much 
 luck. 
 
 There would seem but one point in common between 
 this sort of phenomenon in fiction and all other sorts : 
 it cannot be born in the author's imagination it being 
 as true in literature as in zoology, that all life is from 
 the egg. 
 
 In the endeavor to show, if possible, the impropriety 
 of the phrase, Quite an Original, as applied by the bar 
 ber's friends, we have, at unawares, been led into a 
 dissertation bordering upon the prosy, perhaps upon the 
 smoky. If so, the best use the smoke can be turned 
 to, will be, by retiring under cover of it, in good trim 
 as may be, to the story. 
 
CHAPTER XLV. 
 
 THE COSMOPOLITAN INCREASES IN SERIOUSNESS. 
 
 IN the middle of the gentlemen's cabin burned a solar 
 lamp, swung from the ceiling, and whose shade of 
 ground glass was all round fancifully variegated, in 
 transparency, with the image of a horned altar, from 
 which flames rose, alternate with the figure of a robed 
 man, his head encircled by a halo. The light of this 
 lamp, after dazzlingly striking on marble, snow-white 
 and round the slab of a centre-table beneath on all 
 sides went rippling off with ever-diminishing distinct 
 ness, till, like circles from a stone dropped in water, the 
 rays died dimly away in the furthest nook of the 
 place. 
 
 Here and there, true to their place, but not to their 
 function, swung other lamps, barren planets, which 
 had either gone out from exhaustion, or been extin 
 guished by such occupants of berths as the light annoy 
 ed, or who wanted to sleep, not see. 
 
 By a perverse man, in a berth not remote, the remain 
 ing lamp would have been extinguished as well, had 
 not a steward forbade, saying that the commands of the 
 captain required it to be kept burning till the natural 
 
376 THE CONFIDENCE- MAN. 
 
 light of day should come to relieve it. This steward, who, 
 like many in his vocation, was apt to be a little free- 
 spoken at times, had been provoked by the man's perti 
 nacity to remind him, not only of the sad consequences 
 which might, upon occasion, ensue from the cabin be 
 ing left in darkness, but, also, of the circumstance that, 
 in a place full of strangers, to show one's self anxious to 
 produce darkness there, such an anxiety was, to say the 
 least, not becoming. So the lamp last survivor of 
 many burned on, inwardly blessed by those in some 
 berths, and inwardly execrated by those in others. 
 
 Keeping his lone vigils beneath his lone lamp, which 
 lighted his book on- the table, sat a clean, comely, old 
 man, his head snowy as the marble, and a countenance 
 like that which imagination ascribes to good Simeon, 
 when, having at last beheld the Master of Faith, he bless 
 ed him and departed in peace. From his hale look of 
 greenness in winter, and his hands ingrained with the 
 tan, less, apparently, of the present summer, than of 
 accumulated ones past, the old man seemed a well-to- 
 do farmer, happily dismissed, after a thrifty life of ac 
 tivity, from the fields to the fireside one of those who, 
 at three-score-and-ten, are fresh-hearted as at fifteen ; 
 to whom seclusion gives a boon more blessed than 
 knowledge, and at last sends them to heaven untainted 
 by the world, because ignorant of it ; just as a country 
 man putting up at a London inn, and never stirring out 
 of it as a sight-seer, will leave London at last without 
 once being lost in its fog, or soiled by its mud. 
 
 Redolent from the barber's shop, as any bridegroom 
 
INCREASE IN SERIOUSNESS. 377 
 
 tripping to the bridal chamber might come, and by his 
 look of cheeriness seeming to dispense a sort of morning 
 through the night, in came the cosmopolitan ; but mark 
 ing the old man, and how he was occupied, he toned 
 himself down, and trod softly, and took a seat on the 
 other side of the table, and said nothing. Still, there 
 was a kind of waiting expression about him. 
 
 " Sir," said the old man, after looking up puzzled at 
 him a moment, " sir," said he, " one would think this 
 was a coffee-house, and it was war-time, and I had 
 a newspaper here with great news, and the only copy 
 to be had, you sit there looking at me so eager." 
 
 " And so you have good news there, sir the very 
 best of good news." 
 
 "Too good to be true," here came from one of the 
 curtained berths. 
 
 " Hark I" said the cosmopolitan. " Some one talks 
 in his sleep." 
 
 " Yes," said the old man, " and you you seem to be 
 talking in a dream. Why speak you, sir, of news, and 
 all that, when you must see this is a book I have here 
 the Bible, not a newspaper?" 
 
 " I know that ; and when you are through with it 
 but not a moment sooner I will thank you for it. It 
 belongs to the boat, I believe a present from a so 
 ciety." 
 
 " Oh, take it, take it !" 
 
 "^ay, sir, I did not mean to touch you at all. I 
 simply stated the fact in explanation of my waiting here 
 nothing more. Read on, sir, or you will distress me." 
 
378 THE C O NFI D E N C E -M A N. 
 
 This courtesy was not without effect. Removing his 
 spectacles, and saying he had about finished his chapter, 
 the old man kindly presented the volume, which was 
 received with thanks equally kind. After reading for 
 some minutes, until his expression merged from atten- 
 tiveness into seriousness, and from that into a kind of 
 pain, the cosmopolitan slowly laid down the book, and 
 turning to the old man, who thus far had been watching 
 him with benign curiosity, said : " Can you, my aged 
 friend, resolve me a doubt >a disturbing doubt ?" 
 
 " There are doubts, sir," replied the old man, with a 
 changed countenance, "there are doubts, sir, which, 
 if man have them, it is not man that can solve 
 them." 
 
 " True ; but look, now, what my doubt is. I am one 
 who thinks well of man. I love man. I have confi 
 dence in man. But what was told me not a half-hour 
 since ? I was told that I would find it written' Be 
 lieve not his many words an enemy speaketh sweetly 
 with his lips' and also I was told that I would find a 
 good deal more to the same effect, and all in this book. 
 I could not think it ; and, coming here to look for my 
 self, what do I read? Not only just what was quoted, 
 but also, as was engaged, more to the same purpose, 
 such as this: 'With much communication he will 
 tempt thee ; he will smile upon thee, and speak thee fair, 
 and say What wantest thou ? If thou be for his profit 
 he will use thee ; he will make thee bear, and will not 
 be sorry for it. Observe and take good heed. When 
 thou nearest these things, awake in thy sleep.' " 
 
INCREASE IN SERIOUSNESS. 379 
 
 " Who's that describing the confidence-man ?" here 
 came from the berth again. 
 
 "Awake in his sleep, sure enough, ain't he ?" said the 
 cosmopolitan, again looking off in surprise. " Same 
 voice as before, ain't it ? Strange sort of dreamy man, 
 that. Which is his berth, pray?" 
 
 " Never mind him, sir,' 7 said the old man anxiously, 
 " but tell me truly, did you, indeed, read from the book 
 just now?" 
 
 " I did," with changed air, u and gall and wormwood 
 it is to me, a truster in man ; to me, a philanthropist." 
 
 " Why," moved, " you don't mean to say, that what 
 you repeated is really down there ? Man and boy, I 
 have read the good book this seventy years, and don't 
 remember seeing anything like that. Let me see it," 
 rising earnestly, and going round to him. 
 
 " There it is ; and there and there" turning over 
 the leaves, and pointing to the sentences one by one ; 
 " there all down in the 'Wisdom of Jesus, the Son of 
 Sirach.' " 
 
 "Ah !" cried the old man, brightening up, " now I 
 know. Look," turning the leaves forward and back, till 
 all the Old Testament lay flat on one side, and all the 
 New Testament flat on the other, while in his fingers he 
 supported vertically the portion between, " look, sir, all 
 this to the right is certain truth, and all this to the left 
 is certain truth, but all I hold in my hand here is 
 apocrypha." 
 
 "Apocrypha?" 
 
 "Yes; and there's the word in black and white,' 
 
380 THE CONFIDENCE -MAN. 
 
 pointing to it. "And what says the word ? It says as 
 much as ' not warranted ;' for what do college men say 
 of anything of that sort ? They say it is apocryphal. 
 The word itself, I've heard from the pulpit, implies 
 something of uncertain credit. So if your disturbance 
 be raised from aught in this apocrypha," again taking 
 up the pages, " in that case, think no more of it, for it's 
 apocrypha." 
 
 " What's that about the Apocalypse ?" here, a third 
 time, came from the berth. 
 
 " He's seeing visions now, ain't he?" said the cosmo 
 politan, once more looking in the direction of the inter 
 ruption. " But, sir," resuming, " I cannot tell you how 
 thankful I am for your reminding me about the apocry 
 pha here. For the moment, its being such escaped me. 
 Fact is, when all is bound up together, it's sometimes 
 confusing. The uncanonical part should be bound dis 
 tinct. And, now that I think of it, how well did those 
 learned doctors who rejected for us this whole book of 
 Sirach. I never read anything so calculated to destroy 
 man's confidence in man. This son of Sirach even says 
 I saw it but just now : * Take heed of thy friends ;' not, 
 observe, thy seeming friends, thy hypocritical friends, 
 thy false friends, but thy friends, thy real friends that 
 is to say, not the truest friend in the world is to be im 
 plicitly trusted. Can Rochefoucault equal that ? I 
 should not wonder if his view of human nature, like 
 Machiavelli's, was taken from this Son of Sirach. And 
 to call it wisdom the Wisdom of the Son of Sirach ! 
 Wisdom, indeed ! What an ugly thing wisdom must 
 
INCREASE IN SERIOUSNESS. 381 
 
 be ! Give me the folly that dimples the cheek, say I, 
 rather than the wisdom that curdles the blood. But 
 no, no ; it ain't wisdom ; it's apocrypha, as you say, sir. 
 For how can that be trustworthy that teaches dis 
 trust?" 
 
 " I tell you what it is," here cried the same voice as 
 before, only more in less of mockery, " if you two don't 
 know enough to sleep, don't be keeping wiser men 
 awake. And if you want to know what wisdom is, go 
 find it under your blankets." 
 
 " Wisdom ?" cried another voice with a brogue ; 
 " arrah, and is't wisdom the two geese are gabbling 
 about all this while ? To bed with ye, ye divils, and 
 don't be after burning your fingers with the likes of 
 wisdom. 
 
 " We must talk lower," said the old man ; " I fear we 
 have annoyed these good people." 
 
 " I should be sorry if wisdom annoyed any one," said 
 the other; "but we will lower our voices, as you say. 
 To resume : taking the thing as I did, can you be sur 
 prised at my uneasiness in reading passages so charged 
 with the spirit of distrust ?" 
 
 " No, sir, I am not surprised," said the old man ; then 
 added: "from what you say, I see you are something 
 of my way of thinking you think that to distrust the 
 creature, is a kind of distrusting of the Creator. Well, 
 my young friend, what is it ? This is rather late for you 
 to be about. What do you want of me ?" 
 
 These questions were put to a boy in the fragment of 
 an old linen coat, bedraggled and yellow, who, coming 
 
382 THE CONFIDENCE-MAN. 
 
 in from the deck barefooted on the soft carpet, had been 
 unheard. All pointed and fluttering, the rags of the 
 little fellow's red-flannel shirt, mixed with those of his 
 yellow coat, flamed about him like the painted flames in 
 the robes of a victim in auto-da-fe. His face, too, wore 
 such a polish of seasoned grime, that his sloe-eyes 
 sparkled from out it like lustrous sparks in fresh coal. 
 He was a juvenile peddler, or marchand, as the polite 
 French might have called him, of travelers' conveni 
 ences ; and, having no allotted sleeping-place, had, in 
 his wanderings about the boat, spied, through glass 
 doors, the two in the cabin ; and, late though it was, 
 thought it might never be too much so for turning a 
 penny. 
 
 Among other things, he carried a curious affair a 
 miniature mahogany dopr, hinged to its frame, and suit 
 ably furnished in all respects but one, which will shortly 
 appear. This little door he now meaningly held before 
 the old man, who, after staring at it a while, said : " Go 
 thy ways with thy toys, child." 
 
 " Now, may I never get so old and wise as that comes 
 to," laughed the boy through his grime ; and, by so 
 doing, disclosing leopard-like teeth, like those of Muril- 
 lo's wild beggar-boy's. 
 
 " The divils are laughing now, are they ?" here came 
 the brogue from the berth. " What do the divils find to 
 laugh about in wisdom, begorrah ? To bed with ye, ye 
 divils, and no more of ye." 
 
 " You see, child, you have disturbed that person," 
 said the old man ; " you mustn't laugh any more." 
 
INCREASE IN SERIOUSNESS. 383 
 
 "Ah, now," said the cosmopolitan, " don't, pray, say 
 that; don't let him think that poor Laughter is per 
 secuted for a fool in this world." 
 
 "Well," said the old man to the boy, "you must, at 
 any rate, speak very low." 
 
 " Yes, that wouldn't be amiss, perhaps," said the 
 cosmopolitan; "but, my fine fellow, you were about 
 saying something to my aged friend here ; what was 
 it?" 
 
 " Oh," with a lowered voice, coolly opening and shut 
 ting his little door, "only this: when I kept a toy- 
 stand at the fair in Cincinnati last month, I sold more 
 than one old man a child's rattle." 
 
 "No doubt of it," said the old man. "I myself often 
 buy such things for my little grandchildren." 
 
 " But these old men I talk of were old bachelors." 
 
 The old man stared at him a moment ; then, whisper 
 ing to the cosmopolitan : " Strange boy, this ; sort of 
 simple, ain't he ? Don't know much, hey ?" 
 
 " Not much," said the boy, "or I wouldn't be so 
 ragged." 
 
 " Why, child, what sharp ears you have !" exclaimed 
 the old man. 
 
 " If they were duller, I would hear less ill of myself," 
 said the boy. 
 
 " You seem pretty wise, my lad," said the cosmo 
 politan ; " why don't you sell your wisdom, and buy a 
 coat?" 
 
 " Faith," said the boy, " that's what I did to-day, and 
 this is the coat that the price of my wisdom bought. 
 
384 v THE CONFIDENCE- MAN. 
 
 But won't you trade ? See, now, it is not the door I 
 want to sell ; I only carry the door round for a speci 
 men, like. Look now, sir," standing the thing up on the 
 table, " supposing this little door is your state-room 
 door ; well," opening it, " you go in for the night ; 
 you close your door behind you thus. Now, is all 
 safe ?" 
 
 " I suppose so, child," said the old man. 
 
 " Of course it is, my fine fellow," said the cosmopoli 
 tan. 
 
 "All safe. Well. Now, about two o'clock in the 
 morning, say, a soft-handed gentleman comes softly and 
 tries the knob here thus ; in creeps my soft-handed 
 gentleman ; and hey, presto ! how comes on the soft 
 cash ?" 
 
 " I see, I see, child," said the old man; " your fine 
 gentleman is a fine thief, and there's no lock to your 
 little door to keep him out ;" with which words he 
 peered at it more closely than before. 
 
 "Well, now," again showing his white teeth, "well, 
 now, some of you old folks are knowing 'uns, sure 
 enough ; but now comes the great invention," produc 
 ing a small steel contrivance, very simple but ingeni 
 ous, and which, being clapped on the inside of the little 
 door, secured it as with a bolt. " There now," admir 
 ingly holding it off at arm's-length, "there now, let 
 that soft-handed gentleman come now a' softly trying 
 this little knob here, and let him keep a' trying till he 
 finds his head as soft as his hand. Buy the traveler's 
 patent lock, sir, only twenty-five cents." 
 
INCREASE IN SERIOUSNESS. 385 
 
 u Dear me," cried the old man, " this beats print 
 ing. Yes, child, I will have one, and use it this very 
 night.' 1 
 
 With the phlegm of an old banker pouching the 
 change, the boy now turned to the other : " Sell you 
 one, sir ?" 
 
 "Excuse me, my fine fellow, but I never use such 
 blacksmiths' things." 
 
 " Those who give the blacksmith most work seldom 
 do," said the boy, tipping him a wink expressive of a 
 degree of indefinite knowingness, not uninteresting to 
 consider in one of his years. But the wink was not 
 marked by the old man, nor, to all appearances, by him 
 for whom it was intended. 
 
 "Now then," said the boy, again addressing the old 
 man. "With your traveler's lock on your door to 
 night, you will think yourself all safe, won't you?" 
 
 " I think I will, child." 
 
 " But how about the window?" 
 
 " Dear me, the window, child. I never thought of 
 that. I must see to that." 
 
 " Never you mind about the window," said the boy, 
 nor, to be honor bright, about the traveler's lock either, 
 (though I ain't sorry for selling one), do you just buy 
 one of these little jokers," producing a number of sus 
 pender-like objects, which he dangled before the old 
 man ; " money-belts, sir; only fifty cents." 
 
 "Money-belt? never heard of such a thing." 
 
 " A sort of pocket-book," said the boy, " only a safer 
 sort. Very good for travelers." 
 
386 THE CONFIDENCE-MAN. 
 
 " Oh, a pocket-book. Queer looking pocket-books 
 though, seems to me. Ain't they rather long and nar 
 row for pocket-books?" 
 
 " They go round the waist, sir, inside," said the boy 
 44 door open or locked, wide awake on your feet or fast 
 asleep in your chair, impossible to be robbed with a 
 money-belt." 
 
 " I see, I see. It would, be hard to rob one's money- 
 belt. And I was told to-day the Mississippi is a bad 
 river for pick-pockets. How much are they ?" 
 
 " Only fifty cents, sir." 
 
 "I'll take one. There!" 
 
 " Thank-ee. And now there's a present for ye," with 
 which, drawing from his breast a batch of little papers, 
 he threw one before the old man, who, looking at it, read 
 " Counterfeit Detector:" 
 
 " Very good thing," said the boy, <; I give it to all my 
 customers who trade seventy-five cents' worth ; best 
 present can be made them. Sell you a money-belt, 
 sir?" turning to the cosmopolitan. 
 
 " Excuse me, my fine fellow, but I never use that 
 sort of thing ; my money I carry loose." 
 
 "Loose bait ain't bad," said the boy, "look a lie and 
 find the truth ; don't care about a Counterfeit Detector, 
 do ye ? or is the wind East, d'ye think?" 
 
 " Child," said the old man in some concern, " you 
 mustn't sit up any longer, it affects your mind ; there, go 
 away, go to bed." 
 
 " If I had some people's brains to lie on, I would," 
 said the boy, "but planks is hard, you know." 
 
INCREASE IN SERIOUSNESS. 387 
 
 " Go, child go, go !" 
 
 "Yes, child, yes, yes," said the boy, with which 
 roguish parody, by way of conge, he scraped back his 
 hard foot on the woven flowers of the carpet, much as a 
 mischievous steer in May scrapes back his horny hoof 
 in the pasture ; and then with a flourish of his hat 
 which, like the rest of his tatters, was, thanks to hard 
 times, a belonging beyond his years, though not beyond 
 his experience, being a grown man's cast-off beaver 
 turned, and with the air of a young Caffre, quitted the 
 place. 
 
 " That's a strange boy," said the old man, looking 
 after him. " I wonder who's his mother ; and whether 
 she knows what late hours he keeps?" 
 
 " The probability is," observed the other, " that his 
 mother does not know. But if you remember, sir, you 
 were saying something, when the boy interrupted you 
 with his door." 
 
 " So I was. Let me see," unmindful of his purchases 
 for the moment, " what, now, was it? What was that 
 I was saying ? Do you remember ?" 
 
 "Not perfectly, sir ; but, if I am not mistaken, it was 
 something like this : you hoped you did not distrust the 
 creature ; for that would imply distrust of the Creator." 
 
 11 Yes, that was something like it," mechanically and 
 unintelligently letting his eye fall now on his pur 
 chases. 
 
 " Pray, will you put your money in your belt to 
 night?" 
 
 "It's best, ain't it?" with a slight start. "Never 
 
SSS THE CONFIDENCE-MAN. 
 
 too late to be cautious. ' Beware of pick-pockets' is 
 all over the boat." 
 
 " Yes, and it must have been the Son of Sirach, or 
 some other morbid cynic, who put them there. But 
 that's not to the purpose. Since you are minded to it, 
 pray, sir, let me help you about the belt. I think that, 
 between us, we can* make a secure thing of it." 
 
 " Oh no, no, no !" said the old man, not unperturbed, 
 " no, no, I wouldn't trouble you for the world," then, 
 nervously folding up the belt, " and I won't be so im 
 polite as to do it for myself, before you, either. But, 
 now that I think of it," after a pause, carefully taking 
 a little wad from a remote corner of his vest pocket, 
 " here are two bills they gave me at St. Louis, yester 
 day. No doubt they are all right; but just to pass 
 time, I'll compare them with the Detector here. Blessed 
 boy to make me such a present. Public benefactor, 
 that little boy!" 
 
 Laying the Detector square before him on the table, 
 he then, with something of the air of an officer bringing 
 by the collar a brace of culprits to the bar, placed the 
 two bills opposite the Detector, upon which, the ex 
 amination began, lasting some time, prosecuted with 
 no small research and vigilance, the forefinger of the 
 right hand proving of lawyer-like efficacy in tracing out 
 and pointing the evidence, whichever way it might go. 
 
 After watching him a while, the cosmopolitan said in 
 a formal voice, " Well, what say you, Mr. Foreman ; 
 guilty, or not guilty? Not guilty, ain't it t" 
 
 "I don't know, I don't know," returned the old man, 
 
INCREASE IN SERIOUSNESS. 3S9 
 
 perplexed, " there's so many marks of all sorts to go by, 
 it makes it a kind of uncertain. Here, now, is this bill," 
 touching one, " it looks to be a three dollar bill on 
 the Vicksburgh Trust and Insurance Banking Company. 
 Well, the Detector says" 
 
 " But why, in this case, care what it says ? Trust and 
 Insurance ! What more would you have?" 
 
 "No ; but the Detector says, among fifty other things, 
 that, if a good bill, it must have, thickened here and 
 there into the substance of the paper, little wavy spots 
 of red ; and it says they must have a kind of silky feel, 
 being made by the lint of a red silk handkerchief stirred 
 up in the paper-maker's vat the paper being made to 
 order for the company." 
 
 " Well, and is" 
 
 " Stay. But then it adds, that sign is not always to 
 be relied on ; for some good bills get so worn, the red 
 marks get rubbed out. And that's the case with my 
 bill here see how old it is or else it's a counterfeit, or 
 else I don't see right or else dear, dear me I don't 
 know what else to think." 
 
 " What a peck of trouble that Detector makes for you 
 now ; believe me, the bill is good ; don't be so distrust 
 ful. Proves what I've always thought, that much of 
 the want of confidence, in these days, is owing to these 
 Counterfeit Detectors you see on every desk and counter. 
 Puts people up to suspecting good bills. Throw it 
 away, I beg, if only because of the trouble it breeds 
 you." 
 
 "No ; it's troublesome, but I think I'll keep it. Stay, 
 
390 THE CONFIDENCE- MAN. 
 
 now, here's another sign. It says that, if the bill is good, ifc 
 must have in one corner, mixed in with the vignette, the 
 figure of a goose, very small, indeed, all but microscopic; 
 and, for added precaution, like the figure of Napoleon 
 outlined by the tree, not observable, even if magnified, 
 unless the attention is directed to it. Now, pore over it 
 as I will, I can't see this goose." 
 
 "Can't see the goose? why, I can; and a famous 
 goose it is. There" (reaching over and pointing to 
 a spot in the vignette). 
 
 " I don't see it dear me I don't see the goose. Is 
 it a real goose ?" 
 
 " A perfect goose; beautiful goose." 
 
 " Dear, dear, I don't see it." 
 
 " Then throw that Detector away, I say again ; it 
 only makes you purblind ; don't you see what a wild- 
 goose chase it has led you? The bill is good. Throw 
 the Detector away." 
 
 "No; it ain't so satisfactory as I thought for, but 
 I must examine this other bill." 
 
 " As you please, but I can't in conscience assist you 
 any more ; pray, then, excuse me." 
 
 So, while the old man with much painstakings re 
 sumed his work, the cosmopolitan, to allow him every 
 facility, resumed his reading. At length, seeing that he 
 had given up his undertaking as hopeless, and was at 
 leisure again, the cosmopolitan addressed some gravely 
 interesting remarks to him about the book before him, 
 and, presently, becoming more and more grave, said, as 
 he turned the large volume slowly over on the table, 
 
INCREASE IN SERIOUSNESS. 391 
 
 and with much difficulty traced the faded remains of the 
 gilt inscription giving the name of the society who had 
 presented it to the boat, " Ah, sir, though every one 
 must he pleased at the thought of the presence in pub 
 lic places of such a book, yet there is something that 
 abates the satisfaction. Look at this volume ; on the 
 outside, battered as any old valise in the baggage-room ; 
 and inside, white and virgin as the hearts of lilies in 
 bud." 
 
 " So it is. so it is," said the old man sadly, his atten 
 tion for the first directed to the circumstance. 
 
 "Nor is this the only time," continued the other, 
 " that I have observed these public Bibles in boats and 
 hotels. All much like this old without, and new 
 within. True, this aptly typifies that internal freshness, 
 the best mark of truth, however ancient; but then, 
 it speaks not so well as could be wished for the good 
 book's esteem in the minds of the traveling public. I 
 may err, but it seems to me that if more confidence 
 was put in it by the traveling public, it would hardly 
 be so." 
 
 With an expression very unlike that with which he 
 had bent over the Detector, the old man sat meditating 
 upon his companion's remarks a while ; and, at last, with 
 a rapt look, said : " And yet, of all people, the traveling 
 public most need to put trust in that guardianship which 
 is made known in this book." 
 
 " True, true," thoughtfully assented the other. 
 
 "And one would think they would wane to, and 
 be glad to," continued the old man kindling; "for, in 
 
392 THE CONFIDENCE- MAN. 
 
 all our wanderings through this vale, how pleasant, not 
 less than obligatory, to feel that we need start at no 
 wild alarms, provide for no wild perils ; trusting in that 
 Power which is alike able and willing to protect us 
 when we cannot ourselves." 
 
 His manner produced something answering to it in 
 the cosmopolitan, who, leaning over towards him, said 
 sadly : " Though this is a theme on which travelers 
 seldom talk to each other, yet, to you, sir, I will say, 
 that I share something of your sense of security. I have 
 moved much about the world, and still keep at it ; nev 
 ertheless, though in this land, and especially in these 
 parts of it, some stories are told about steamboats and 
 railroads fitted to make one a little apprehensive, yet, I 
 may say that, neither by land nor by water, am I ever 
 seriously disquieted, however, at times, transiently un 
 easy; since, with you, sir, I believe in a Committee 
 of Safety, holding silent sessions over all, in an invisible 
 patrol, most alert when we soundest sleep, and whose 
 beat lies as much through forests as towns, along rivers 
 as streets. In short, I never forget that passage of 
 Scripture which says, ' Jehovah shall be thy confidence.' 
 The traveler who has not this trust, what miserable 
 misgivings must be his ; or, what vain, short-sighted 
 care must he take of himself." 
 
 " Even so," said the old man, lowly. 
 
 " There is a chapter," continued the other, again 
 taking the book, " which, as not amiss, I must read you. 
 But this lamp, solar-lamp as it is, begins to burn dimly." 
 
 " So it does, SQ it does," said the old man with 
 
INCREASE IN SERIOUSNESS. 393 
 
 changed air, " dear me, it must be very late. I must to 
 bed, to bed ! Let me see," rising and looking wistfully all 
 round, first on the stools and settees, and then on the 
 carpet, " let me see, let me see ; is there anything I 
 have forgot, forgot? Something I a sort of dimly re 
 member. Something, my son careful man told me at 
 starting this morning, this very morning. Something 
 about seeing to something before I got into my berth. 
 What could it be? Something for safety. Oh, my poor 
 old memory !" 
 
 "Let me give a little guess, sir. Life-preserver?" 
 
 " So it was. He told me not to omit seeing I had a 
 life-preserver in my state-room ; said the boat supplied 
 them, too. But where are they? I don't see any. 
 What are they like?" 
 
 " They are something like this, sir, I believe," lifting 
 a brown stool with a curved tin compartment under 
 neath ; " yes, this, I think, is a life-preserver, sir ; and 
 a very good one, I should say, though I don't pretend to 
 know much about such things, never using them my 
 self." 
 
 " Why, indeed, now ! Who would have thought it ? 
 that a life-preserver? That's the very stool I was sitting 
 on, ain't it?" 4 
 
 " It is. And that shows that one's life is looked out 
 for, when he ain't looking out for it himself. In fact, 
 any of these stools here will float you, sir, should the 
 boat hit a snag, and go down in. the dark. But, since 
 you want one in your room, pray take this one," hand 
 ing it to him. " I think I can recommend this one ; the 
 17* 
 
394 THE C O N P I D E N C E - M A N . 
 
 tin part," rapping it with his knuckles, " seems so per 
 fect sounds so very hollow." 
 
 "Sure it's quite perfect, though?" Then, anxiously 
 putting on his spectacles, he scrutinized it pretty 
 closely " well soldered ? quite tight ?" 
 
 " I should say so, sir ; though, indeed, as I said, I 
 never use this sort of thing, myself. Still, I think that 
 in case of a wreck, barring sharp-pointed timbers, you 
 could have confidence in that stool for a special provi 
 dence." 
 
 " Then, good-night, good-night ; and Providence have 
 both of us in its good keeping." 
 
 " Be sure it will," eying the old man with sympathy, 
 as for the moment he stood, money-belt in hand, and 
 life-preserver under arm, "be sure it will, sir, since 
 in Providence, as in man, you and I equally put trust. 
 But, bless me, we are being left in the dark here. Pah ! 
 what a smell, too." 
 
 " Ah, my way now," cried the old man, peering be 
 fore him, " where lies my way to my state-room?" 
 
 " I have indifferent eyes, and will show you ; but, first, 
 for the good of all lungs, let me extinguish this lamp." 
 
 The next moment, the waning light expired, and with 
 it the waning flames of the horned altar, and the waning 
 halo round the robed man's brow; while in the darkness 
 which ensued, the cosmopolitan kindly led the old man 
 away. Something further may follow of this Masque 
 rade.