HARRY HARSON; 
 
 OK, 
 
 THE BENEVOLENT BACHELOR, 
 
 BY 
 
 JOHN T. IKYING, 
 
 (NEPHEW OF -WASHINGTON IRVING.) 
 
 NEW YOEK: 
 ROBERT M. DE WITT, PUBLISHER, 
 
 18 FRANKFORT STREET. 
 
1-OAN STACK 
 
PKEFACE. 
 
 THE date of the following tale is fixed many years back, and 
 since then great and important changes have been made in the 
 law of this State. Imprisonment for debt has been abolished, 
 and many forms and proceedings which are alluded to in these 
 pages have been swept away by statutory enactment. 
 
 The whole body of law and practice has been simplified and 
 remodelled ; but whether it has been improved is a matter of no 
 little discussion, both by the bar and bench ; which discussion pro 
 bably will not terminate until all those who are familiar with the 
 old forms and usages shall have ceased to frequent their former 
 haunts, or have gone to then* graves. 
 
 The characters who figure in this book are not all fictitious. 
 Some are still living ; but the greater portion of them have 
 played their part in life, and the curtain has fallen, and shut out 
 all that the world ever has known or ever will know of their foibles 
 or their virtues. Many of the scenes, too, are real, and for a time 
 made a deep and painful impression upon the public mind ; but 
 the waves of time have rolled on, and effaced them from the 
 memories of all except a few whom they still haunt with a linger 
 ing feeling of pain. j. T. i. 
 
 G35 
 
HAEEY HABSOI. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THERE is a portion of the g/eat city of New- York known 
 to many who move in the upper walks of life, only by 
 name ; a region rife with crime and suffering and violence. 
 Surrounded by broad thoroughfares, wiCh wide streets cross 
 ing within a few hundred yards of it, and with all the life 
 and bustle of a mighty metropolis humming within its very 
 skirts, it stands a doomed spot ; the haunt of the felon and 
 the thief. Few visit it from choice. Those who casually 
 stray within its precincts, hasten on with quickened step ai*d 
 anxious eye, glad to get beyond it, and out of the reach of 
 those who prowl through its narrow streets. Houses, ruined 
 and toppling down ; doors unhung, or swinging open foi 
 any one to enter who may choose ; roofs sagging down, 01 
 crushed in by falling chimneys; shutterless and unglazed 
 windows ; deep dark areas, half filled with rubbish ; base 
 ments with dripping and mildewed walls ; buildings crowd 
 ed together, falling and tumbling one on the other, and yet 
 supported, one can scarcely tell how, meet the eye in every 
 direction. And yet every thing is swarming with life. 
 Human beings, savage, reckless, dissolute, mad with drink 
 
8 HARRY H ARSON. 
 
 bloated, with blood-shot eyes and shaggy hair, next of kin 
 to beasts, herd here in droves; festering and dying by 
 scores, and yet never thinning their countless multitudes. 
 Every house is a hive ; every house is a lazar-house ; every 
 house, a brothel ; and every house a den where theft and 
 violence and murder find fit harborage. 
 
 Yet upon this spot, on the morning in which it is presented 
 to the reader, rose as glorious a sun as ever shone ; and 
 along those narrow, pent-up streets, through those crumbling 
 dwellings, floated as cool and fresh an atmosphere contami 
 nated indeed by the stews around it as ever was breathed. 
 In a dark cellar, reeking with noisome exhalations and 
 stagnant vapors; through a small shattered window, be 
 grimed with dirt and filth, broke the glad light of that 
 morning sun ; giving something like cheerfulness to the 
 murkiest and most dreary den that ever human being 
 tenanted. It might have been a deserted wine-vault ; for 
 there were empty casks piled away in dim corners of it ; or 
 it might have been a long-unused place for the storage of 
 merchandise ; for broken boxes, on which were scrawled the 
 names of firms long since bankrupt, covered with dirt and 
 mildew, were heaped up in other parts of it ; or it might 
 have been the haunt of some grubbing, accumulating pawn 
 broker ; for old clothes, chairs, pans and kettles, tables, and 
 every thing which either man could dream of or thief 
 steal, were gathered there, tossed recklessly about, and all 
 rotting and falling to pieces from dampness. 
 
 In this fated place, in front of a dull, smouldering fire, 
 which she from time to time furnished with fuel, sat a 
 woman of sixty. Her features were wan and haggard ; her 
 blue eye so pale and lustreless that it might have stared 
 from the livid lid of a corpse ; and her gray hair, long and 
 angled, escaping from beneath a crumpled hat of faded 
 
HARRY HARSON. 9 
 
 black velvet, hung over her shoulders. A tattered cloak 
 was drawn tightly about her, partly to keep out the cold, 
 and partly to hide the rags beneath. 
 
 Near her, shivering with cold and terror, were two child 
 ren, a boy and girl, watching her looks, and shrinking back 
 whenever she moved, as if in momentary dread of violence. 
 Strange tenants they were of such a place ; for they were 
 singularly beautiful ; exotics which could never have been 
 the growth of such a soil. The boy might have been seven 
 years old, the girl younger ; but suffering had crushed them 
 down ; and beautiful though they were, they bore a blight 
 which God never sheds on childhood. The sight of these 
 children seemed to be a source of high gratification to the 
 old lady just mentioned ; for as often as she turned to look 
 at them, she gave vent to a low chuckling laugh, and shook 
 her head at the fire, grinning and rubbing her hands togeth 
 er ; or hugging her knees with an appearance of great 
 satisfaction. 
 
 How long she might have indulged in her pleasant mood, 
 is a matter of some uncertainty ; for suddenly a long stream 
 of sunlight floated into the room, like a messenger of joy, 
 and falling upon her shrunken face, seemed to recall her 
 from her day-dream. There comes the sun ! muttered 
 she, starting to her feet ; * there he comes ! there he comes ! 
 Work, work, work ! Up with ye ! Bundle up ! Up with 
 ye! 
 
 In obedience to this summons, from every part of the 
 room ; from behind casks, from beneath boxes, and piles ol 
 rags and rubbish and filth, where they had lain unobserved 
 before, there swarmed a crowd of human beings. Children, 
 kenneled there like beasts, gathered about Mrs. Blossom ; 
 wan, miserable little wretches, with blear eyes, thin, pale 
 faces, crippled, deformed, blighted ; and, even in the days of 
 
10 HARRY U ARSON. 
 
 infancy, with the decrepitude and infirmity of years upon 
 them. There was a glad hum among them ; for they were 
 to exchange the pent-up, stagnant air of their home for the 
 light of day, the blue sky, and the gay sunshine. 
 
 Are ye all here ? said Mrs. Blossom, running her eye 
 over them to see that none had eloped during the night. 
 1 All right eleven. Come here, Squink ! said she to a 
 sickly-looking boy : where was you yesterday ? 
 
 4 In Broadway, replied the boy. 
 
 So you was ; and the day afore, and the day afore that. 
 You re gettin common in Broadway ; you must take Hudson- 
 street. Go it strong in the Square ; there s ladies there, and 
 they m uncommon tender about the bosom. Stop ! said 
 she, as the boy was going off ; who had the orphan sister 
 yesterday ? 
 
 * I brothered her yesterday ; and blow me if it s my turn 
 to do it ag in to-day, replied a small boy with a stout voice, 
 and sufficiently ragged to have brothered all the orphan 
 sisters in the world, without being much reduced in circum 
 stances. 
 
 Stop, Squink ! said the woman ; take her along here 
 she is. As she spoke, she placed in his arms a child a few 
 months old. My eyes ! what a babby that is ! She grows 
 fat, in spite of me ; but her weak eyes are a perfect fortune 
 to me ; at least five shillings a day, continued she, lapsing 
 into an abstruse mathematical calculation, and counting her 
 fingers. * Well, well ; off with you, Squink ! off with you ! 
 
 The boy, casting a rueful glance at the child, took her up 
 in his arms, and staggered out of the cellar. 
 
 Betty ! here, Betty ! you take the Bowery. Tell the old 
 story : a mother ; a hard-working woman, with ten child 
 ren, and all that. Be off! And you, said she, turning to 
 a pale, unhealthy girl, who stood next her ; you go about 
 
HARRY U ARSON. 11 
 
 Washington-square, and Bond-street, and them ere parts ; 
 look melancholy at the ladies in the winders ; drop down on 
 the steps, completely did up. That always brings two shil 
 lings. And you, said she, addressing the small boy with 
 stout voice, you must be among the merchants clerks. 
 Talk big ; look sassy ; ax em for a dollar ; swear at em : 
 they likes that. You take ? 
 
 Do n t I ? I m up to trap ! said the boy, and out he 
 darted. 
 
 Having at last sent her whole crew adrift, with the ex 
 ception of the boy and girl first mentioned, the woman sat 
 down. She had scarcely done so, when the cellar was dark 
 ened by the entrance of a man, who walked in as if perfectly 
 at home ; and drawing the end of a wooden box to the fire, 
 and seating himself on it, took up a bar of iron which lay 
 there as a substitute for both shovel and tongs, and began 
 to stir the fire. 
 
 4 Bloody poor fires you keep, Mrs. Blossom ; bloody poor ! 
 said the man, still poking in the ashes. 
 
 * Times is hard, very hard, Mr. Snork, replied Mrs. Blos 
 som, shaking her head pathetically ; * and poor souls like 
 me must suffer. Ah ! if it was n t for the lambs under my 
 charge, I really do think I d have no fire at all. 
 
 Mr. Snork laid down the iron bar, and placing a hand on 
 each knee, stared at her in undisguised amazement. At 
 last he said : 
 
 Live in this ere place without a fire ? ^ 
 
 Mrs. Blossom shook her head, as much as to say, that 
 melancholy as the fact might be, nevertheless such had been 
 the tenor of her observation. 
 
 Then I m blessed if you wouldn t be mouldy afore a 
 week s out ! Pah ! I can feel it sticking to me now ! And 
 to show that his remark was made in earnest, and that he 
 
12 HARRY HARSON. 
 
 was really sincere in his apprehensions, he shook himself 
 violently, by way of dislodging all particles which might have 
 adhered to his person. Mrs. Blossom made no reply for 
 some time ; but at length she inquired : 
 How s your set, Mr. Snork ? 
 
 * Pretty well, pretty well. We Ve got the measles among 
 7 em ; but as it s among the healthy ones, it s all the better. 
 It makes em look interesting. They take oncommon with 
 women as has got babbies of their own ; or as has lately 
 lost a little un. Our sickliest child like to went off last 
 week ; the profitablest child we ve got. Mrs. Snork took 
 onbounded pains in the training of that child. Mrs. Snork 
 is a very valuable woman, for one of the profession. She 
 turns out the successfullest beggars in the city. To turn out 
 a well-broken one is not so easy a job. They re wonderful 
 scarce ; not one in ten succeeds : and we have to keep gettin 
 and gettin , to make up for the wear and tear of the police- 
 office and House of Refuge. It costs us at least one a month ; 
 and when they comes out of the House of Refuge, they m 
 too big for the profession, and prefers stealin . But what s 
 them? said Mr. Snort, taking off his hat and rubbing his 
 forehead very hard with the cuff of his coat. What s 
 them ? I never seed them afore. He looked very earnestly 
 at the two children, who shrank from him, drawing together, 
 and watching him with terrified eyes. * My eyes ! Mrs. 
 Blossom, they 1 m great ones ! Where did they come from ? 
 
 Never mind, said the woman ; that s my affair. 
 
 * Will you sell one ? inquired the man, still staring eagerly 
 at them. I d give a round price for the gal I would 
 indeed; and by way of impressing his sincerity more 
 strongly upon Mrs. Blossom, he dashed his hat to the floor, 
 and blasted his eyes if he were not in earnest. 
 
 * It s no use, Mr. Snork, said the woman ; we knows her 
 
HARRY HARSON. 13 
 
 waily. A child like that there one is worth a dollar a day. 
 Look at her p ints. If she had been a cripple, she d been 
 worth twice the money at the very lowest. 
 
 A wery delightful cripple she d make, said Mr. Snork 
 admiringly ; but you won t sell her ? said he inquiringly. 
 
 Mrs. Blossom shook her head. 
 
 1 Nor the boy nuther ? asked he. * He does n t seem 
 equal to the gal ! 
 
 Again Mrs. Blossom shook her head. * Money won t buy 
 them, Mr. Snork, said she resolutely ; beside, added she, 
 sinking her voice and looking cautiously about her, there s 
 more in them children than you or I see more than you 
 or I know. I could n t let them go if I wanted to ; and 
 if you had em, you d be sorry for it. 
 
 Hallo ! what s in the wind now ? exclaimed Mr. Snork, 
 sitting bolt upright, and staring earnestly at her. 
 
 Mrs. Blossom shook her head ominously, but said nothing 
 farther, and Mr. Snork, after several ineffectual attempts to 
 satisfy his curiosity, rose from his seat and went to the door. 
 
 Before he ascended the steps, Mrs. Blossom got up, and tak 
 ing him by the arm, led him to a distant corner of the cellai 
 and stood for some time whispering in his ear, and point 
 ing to the children. Mr. Snork seemed to differ from her 
 in opinion ; for at every pause he shook his head, and when 
 he had heard her out, confirmed all his previous marks of 
 disapprobation by striking his fist against an empty box, 
 and declaring that if he did, he hoped he might be 
 d d! 
 
 After this free and earnest expression of his sentiments, 
 he walked out, without farther remark. 
 
 Scarcely had Mr. Snork made his egress before the door 
 way was again darkened by the entrance of a visitor of alto 
 gether a different description. As far as could be seen of 
 
14 11 A RRY HA E SON. 
 
 his face, which was muffled as if for the purpose of conceal 
 ment, he appeared to be in the prime of life. The little of 
 the hair which escaped from beneath his hat was jet black 
 slightly mixed with gray but the shaggy eye-brows 
 overhanging two eyes as black and glowing as those of a 
 serpent, and the thin, sallow face, crossed and seamed with 
 wrinkles, gave him the appearance of much greater age, and 
 showed that care or trouble or evil passions had made wild 
 work with features which had once been good. 
 
 Mrs. Blossom, probably supposing the new comer to be 
 Mr. Snork returning to deliver some forgotten message, did 
 not look up until her visitor, dropping his cloak, uttered her 
 name. 
 
 Starting from her seat, with an air of deep deference not 
 immingled with fear, she exclaimed : Is it you, Sir ? Mr. 
 Mr. Mr. 
 
 * Mr. what ? interrogated the man sharply. Mr. who ? 
 Have you learned my name yet ? 
 
 The woman shook her head. 
 
 It s well for you, said he savagely. I have no name ; 
 and least of all a name here, and for you. 
 
 Ah, I forgot, I forgot I in very old, very old, whined 
 Mrs. Blossom. 
 
 Those who deal with me must never forget, returned the 
 man in the same stern tone, or they ll rue it. And the 
 children? inquired he abruptly. 
 
 Mrs. Blossom made no other reply than to point to the 
 boy and girl, who had shrunk off to a far corner of the room 
 as if for concealment. 
 
 Her visitor, who had not before observed them, lifted his 
 cloak so as to conceal all of his features except his eyes, 
 and walked across to where they were. Whatever might 
 have been his thoughts or feelings, not a word escaped him 
 
HARRY UARSON. 15 
 
 but as lie looked at them, the children instinctively crouched 
 back into the dark recesses of the place, to escape the glow 
 ing eye that rested on them. 
 
 You have done your work well, said he, returning to 
 Mrs. Blossom, very well. Keep on as you have begun, and 
 you will earn your reward ; but recollect one thing if you 
 fail ; if you break faith with me 
 
 He did not finish the sentence, but shook his thin finger 
 at her with a gesture full of menace. 
 
 And now, added he, another question you know the 
 man whom I send here ? 
 
 Mrs. Blossom was too completely awed by the presence of 
 her visitor, who evidently had some strong hold upon her 
 fears, to make any other reply than a simple assent. 
 
 And his name ? inquired the man sharply. 
 
 If Mrs. Blossom had attained that knowledge she had too 
 much shrewdness to admit it, for she denied it boldly. 
 
 It s well, said the other, * do n t learn it, and do n t seek 
 to learn it. You owe him thanks for sending me to you 
 and now mark my words well. When that man comes to 
 you, do his bidding, blindly, without question, and, added 
 he in a cold, slow tone, speaking through his closed teeth, 
 without conscience. 
 
 I 11 do as he says, replied Mrs. Blossom, somewhat sul 
 lenly, but he s a hard man he s a very hard man. 
 
 Do his bidding, replied the other sternly, l without cavil. 
 And above all, added he, pointing to the children, look to 
 them. 
 
 The whole conversation had been carried on in a low tone, 
 but he added a few words more almost in a whisper, and left 
 the place. 
 
 It was evident that Mrs. Blossom was not a little relieved 
 by the departure of her guest, and it was also evident from 
 
16 HARRY EARS ON. 
 
 the anxious glances which she continued from time to time 
 to cast toward the entrance, that she bad some apprehensions 
 that he might return but he did not ; and after watching 
 for some time she again seated herself at the fire, and resting 
 her chin on her hand, seemed buried in deep thought, until 
 the faint chimes of a distant clock, striking the hour, reached 
 her ear. Springing up, she turned to the children and said : 
 It s time you were at work. You Ve lived here long 
 enough without earning your wittals. You stay here, said 
 she to the boy, and you] she added, addressing the girl, 
 come along. 
 
 As she spoke, she took up a small ragged bonnet, threw 
 it to her, and without waiting till she had put it on, led her 
 into the street. 
 
 Through several narrow alleys, dark and dingy even in the 
 light of day, the old woman led the child, until they 
 emerged into a broad thoroughfare. Then giving directions 
 to her how to act, and what to say, and how to mislead 
 those who questioned her ; and cautioning her above all not 
 to tell that the old woman who was dogging her footsteps was 
 other than a stranger ; she bade her commence her task. 
 Walking off so far that none would suspect her of having 
 any communication with the child, she watched her success 
 with greedy eyes. 
 
 What a glorious launch in life was that ! A child, as yet 
 pure-hearted, young, helpless, cowed and broken-spirited, 
 flung into the streets to commence a career, the whole course 
 of which is suffering, and its end infamy and despair ! 
 From morning till night that feeble girl dragged her weary 
 limbs through the street ; begging, now of one person, now 
 of another ; and ever was the cold, calculating eye of that 
 old woman upon her. Some gave her a few pence ; some 
 
HARRY If ARSON. 17 
 
 spoke harshly to her ; and some passed on, without hearing 
 the faint voice which sighed out its petition in their ears. 
 One stout gentleman, with a mulberry nose, and a mahogany 
 cane under his arm, asked her in a stern voice if she knew 
 that there was a law against vagrants, and that there was a 
 place called the House of Refuge. If she did n t, he rather 
 suspected that she would attain that knowledge shortly. 
 Saying which, he smiled to himself, as if pleased with his 
 own remark, and looked complacently about him, as if in 
 hopes that some one else had heard it too. But as no one 
 else other had been so fortunate, he was forced to content 
 himself with his own approbation, and walked off. 
 
 On the child went. Once or twice she sat down on a 
 stone step to rest, but the old woman came up and forced 
 her on. Young as she was, a vague idea of flight passed 
 through her mind ; but she had no where to go ; and, 
 miserable as it was, she had no other home than the 
 wretched hole from which she had emerged that morning. 
 Again and again the idea of escape passed through her 
 mind ; but then she thought of her little brother, left 
 behind in that dreary den, and that she might never see 
 him again : and the tears came in her eyes, and her heart 
 leaped into her throat, and she made up her mind that she 
 would not attempt it. But then again came the thought 
 of that dreaded woman. The very sight of her made her 
 tremble. She looked back to see if she were still there ; the 
 velvet hat was not in sight ; for the first time that day, Mrs. 
 Blossom s eye was off her. For one single moment she 
 hesitated, and then, scarcely conscious of the impulse that 
 urged her on, she sprang forward and fled at full speed 
 along the street. The next instant she heard the voice of 
 the old woman calling her ; then she lost it ; and on she 
 
IS HARRY H ARSON. 
 
 went. The darkness of the evening favored her ; and after 
 turning several corners, she saw the door of a house open ; 
 and darting across a small court-yard which intervened 
 between her and the house, she sprang in, and fell exhausted 
 an the floor. 
 
HARRY HARSON. 19 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 IN the upper part of the city, at the date of this narrative, 
 there stood, and possibly still stands, a little back from the 
 street, a wooden house, somewhat the worse for age, but 
 still in good repair. It once had been yellow, but had faded 
 off into a tawny brown ; and here and there the gray color 
 of the wood showed through. It was two stories high, with 
 tall arched windows, and a double-pitch to its roof : yet it 
 was a snug-looking place, with a wide, comfortable entrance, 
 and wooden seats on each side of the door, as if encouraging 
 the weary to rest there. A wooden railing served to sepa 
 rate a door-yard from the street, and to enclose a huge 
 willow-tree, some of whose limbs hung over the house, 
 trailing upon its roof, while others, drooping almost to the 
 ground, shaded the porch. 
 
 This house and its guardian tree had once been far out of 
 town ; and the time had been when all about it were green 
 fields, here and there dotted with gardens. Trees were 
 plenty about there then ; and there were no neighbors within 
 half a mile. The house had been a great affair in those 
 days ; a sort of second-rate villa, whose owner sat during 
 the fine summer afternoons on the wide seat at the porch, 
 with his pipe in his mouth and two or three cronies at his 
 elbow, or dozed under the shade of the trees, lulled by the wind 
 as it whispered through their branches. But one by one they 
 had died off ; until of all the trees which had overshadowed 
 that door-yard this single old willow was left ; and this too 
 was going fast ; for here and there a long dry branch, 
 stretching out like a palsied limb, showed that decay was at 
 
20 HARRY H ARSON. 
 
 work within. Such the spot had been ; but the city had 
 gradually stolen around it, until the old house, awakening as 
 it were from a dream of years, found itself quite an insigni 
 ficant member of a long street, with a tall brick building 
 opposite staring it full in the face, and one on each side 
 jammed close up against it, and looking down with sove 
 reign contempt upon their rustic neighbor. And the tree too, 
 which had flaunted its long limbs hither and thither, stream 
 ing them out in the wind with a most aristocratic indiffer 
 ence to the space it occupied, found itself cramped up 
 between two high walls, and obliged, as the phrase goes, to 
 haul in its horns. 
 
 The entrance to the house was nearly on a level with the 
 street ; and the door opened immediately into a room, 
 without the aid or intervention of passage or entry. A 
 flagged pathway led from the gate to the door; but all 
 the rest of the court-yard was sodded with turf ; and from 
 the midst of this, shot up the old tree just mentioned. 
 These, and many other peculiarities of the place, were 
 observable in the day-time; though they might have 
 escaped the observation of even an accurate observer at 
 the time when we introduce it to the reader, which was just 
 as the last lingering rays of an afternoon s sun were deep 
 ening into twilight, on the very day in which Mrs. Blossom 
 had left her house with the praiseworthy intention of 
 initiating the child under her charge, into all the little 
 enjoyments incident to a life of beggary. 
 
 In this house, in a back room on the ground-floor, sat a 
 man of about sixty, smoking a pipe in front of a bright fire 
 of wood, which burnt and crackled merrily, its blaze dancing 
 high up the chimney, and flickering hither and thither, 
 lighting up the room, and shining full on the quiet, good- 
 humored face of the old man, giving it siich a comfortable. 
 
HARRY HARSON. 21 
 
 cosy, cheerful look, that one would have sworn to his honesty 
 And warmth of heart, from that single sample of his person. 
 
 He was a sturdy old fellow, very broad in the skirt and 
 shoulder, with a full, round face, and as glad an eye as 
 ever danced in a man s head. It was a snug, comfortable 
 room, too, with plain but substantial furniture, and one or 
 two wide chairs, either meant for the old man s peculiar use, 
 or the accommodation of an equally broad-skirted friend or 
 two. At his elbow stood a small wooden table, on which 
 was a mug of hot toddy, from which he occasionally re 
 freshed himself, and an old newspaper, intended to fur 
 nish the same entertainment for his mind that the mug did 
 for his body. Ever and anon, as he took a sip from his 
 mug, or drew a whiff from his pipe, he cast a meditative 
 glance at the fire, or looked up at a small. clock which ticked 
 loudly over the mantel-piece, wagging a short tail of a pen 
 dulum with unbounded activity, as if in a great hurry to get 
 through the evening. 
 
 Opposite him, in a chair as capacious as his own, sat a 
 small irascible looking pug-dog with a wrinkled nose. The 
 whole of his back and the upper part of his head were of a 
 light brown, but toward the end of his nose his face gradually 
 deepened into a jet-black ; giving him the appearance of a 
 dog who had been engaged in investigating the interior of an 
 ink-bottle. Yet, with all his disadvantages of complexion, he 
 was a tidy, tight-skinned animal ; and as he sat opposite his 
 master, displaying to all advantage a streak of white which 
 ran down his breast between his fore-legs, he bore a strong 
 resemblance to a respectable negro clergyman, clad in snuff- 
 colored small clothes, with an ample shirt-ruffle. 
 
 You re a good dog, Spite, indeed you are ! said the old 
 man, pausing in his smoking, and looking kindly at his 
 companion. You re a little irritable and cross-grained ; 
 
22 HARRY HARSON. 
 
 but you re growing old : we re both growing old, Spite ; 
 we re both growing old, and must humor each other. We 
 know each other s whims, my poor dog, and must make 
 allowance for them. As he spoke, the old man, at some 
 inconvenience to himself, leaned forward and patted the dog 
 on the head. 
 
 Spite acknowledged the courtesy by a short bark, express 
 ive of high satisfaction. He would have wagged his tail, 
 but that appendage being always in tight curl upon his 
 back, it was an understood thing between him and his mas 
 ter, that wagging it was out of the question. 
 
 Scarcely had HARRY HARSON (for that was the old man s 
 name) resumed his pipe and paper, when Spite broke out 
 into a sudden and vociferous bark, looking keenly at the 
 door. The cause of this outcry was explained by a heavy 
 step in the ante-chamber, a fumbling at the knob of the 
 door, a muttered exclamation of impatience at delay in find 
 ing it, a violent flinging open of the door, and the abrupt 
 entrance of a short, broad-shouldered man, in a loose great 
 coat, with iron-gray hair, black glowing eyes, and a dark 
 complexion, somewhat ruddy from exposure. Without 
 speaking, he placed his hat on the table, went to the chair 
 occupied by the dog, ejected him without the least regard 
 to a remonstrance made by that worthy animal ; took a seat, 
 stretched his feet to the fire, and drove both hands to the 
 very bottom of his breeches pockets, where he clenched 
 them with a kind of sullen ferocity, and looked very hard 
 at the small clock over the fire-place. After maintaining 
 this attitude for some moments, he turned to Harry Harson, 
 who had kept on smoking without uttering a word : I wish 
 I was dead! said lie. 
 
 Harson drew a few whiffs of his pipe, and took a drink of. 
 toddy ; but made no reply. 
 
HARRY HARSON. 23 
 
 4 1 say, I wish I was dead ! repeated his visitor more 
 emphatically, drawing his hands out of his pockets, and 
 placing a palm on each knee, with his elbows a-kimbo. At 
 the same time,>he looked Harry Harson full in the face. 
 
 * Why, what s the matter, Frank ? said Harson, taking 
 his pipe from his mouth, and placing it on the table. What 
 troubles you ? 
 
 Every thing troubles me ! replied the other, with increas 
 ing warmth. This world is n t worth living in ; and I m a 
 nigger, Sir ; positively a nigger. I ve no time of my own, 
 Sir ; was up all night with a child in convulsions. At eight 
 o clock this morning was called to see a woman die of small 
 pox ; Avas called from there to pump out the stomach of a 
 drunken beast who had swallowed laudanum ; had just got 
 through, when I was called to a consultation, whether it 
 was best to blister the head or seat of a gentleman with 
 some other complaint. After that, found on my slate a 
 memorandum from an old woman troubled with flatulency, 
 who swore it was inflammation of the bowels. Left her to 
 visit a child who had swallowed a cent in play ; and got 
 home just in time to receive a polite note, informing me that 
 a bill of ten dollars which I had sent to the Corporation, for 
 sewing up the throat of a man who had cut it in the Tombs, 
 had been reduced by the Committee on Retrenchment to 
 five ! I wish I was dead ! If I do n t, damme ! ^nd by 
 way of verifying what he said, he slapped his hand violently 
 on his own knee. Sir, I m sick of being a doctor. I m 
 sick of being a man ! I wish I was that infernal ugly, 
 asthmatic, pop-eyed, black-nosed, cross-grained, pug-dog of 
 yours ! I d sooner be that than a man. I would, I swear ! 
 
 * Spite is a very good little dog, said Harry, mildly, look 
 ing kindly at his favorite. * He s very inoffensive. 
 
 * Well, he may be, said the Doctor ; * but he s cursed 
 
 2 
 
24 HARRY H ARSON. 
 
 ugly; but he s better than a doctor. Sew up a man s 
 throat for five dollars, Sir ! Think of that! Only let me 
 have the sewing up of the throat of one of that Committee 
 on Retrenchment, that s all ! I 11 stitch it straight through 
 the neck, in one side and out the other. If I do n t, 
 damme ! 
 
 Come, come, my old fellow ; do n t be in a passion, said 
 Harson, going to the fire, and taking up a pitcher which 
 stood there. * Here s something to comfort you. I ve kept 
 it hot for you. You do n t see stuff like that every day. 
 
 I m not in a passion, replied his visitor, without attend 
 ing to the latter part of his remark, I swear I m not. 
 Curse it, Sir, do n t say I m in a passion ; I hate to be told 
 I m in a passion ; I never was cooler in all my life. Which 
 last assertion, if true, certainly showed that his ordinary 
 degree of temperature was a high one. 
 
 4 Well, well, drink your toddy, said Harson, holding up 
 the pitcher, and pouring some of its contents into a mug 
 similar to his own ; * and do n t try to pick a quarrel with 
 me. 
 
 The Doctor looked at him without speaking. At first his 
 eye glowed ; but as it rested on the mild face of the old 
 man, who stood opposite to him filling his pipe, it encoun 
 tered something there which could not be withstood. Its 
 expression gradually softened ; and, at length, when Harson 
 looked up, and pushed the mug toward him, and handed 
 him his pipe, and their eyes met, there was something very 
 like a tear in the Doctor s, as he said : 
 
 * What, Harry ! my old boy, quarrel with you ! I d tear 
 my tongue out first ! Friends are not scattered so plentifully 
 along the road-side of life, that a man can fling them oif liko 
 worn-out clothes. Some find that out young ; but all find 
 
HARRY H ARSON. 25 
 
 it out before they go to their graves, if they live to grow 
 old. 
 
 So they do, Frank ; so they do ! God help those who 
 have none ! 
 
 The old man grasped the hand which was now stretched 
 out to meet his, and their little difference was forgotten. 
 For some moments both smoked their pipes in silence, as if 
 engaged in moralizing over the last remark. Their silence, 
 however, was of short duration; for the dog suddenly 
 started up ; uttered a short, sharp, yelping bark ; looked 
 fiercely at the door, and then cast a suggestive glance at his 
 master, as if to say : My old fellow, there s something 
 there which had better be looked to. 
 
 Harry Harson was too busy with his own thoughts to 
 pay much attention to the dog ; nor was it until the outcry 
 of that respectable animal, incensed at his suggestion being 
 slighted, became exceedingly vehement, that he started up 
 and said : Od rot it, pup ! what ails you ? The dog turned 
 an indignant eye upon his master, and then looked at the 
 door. At the same time, a sound came from the outer 
 room, not unlike a low, stifled cry. 
 
 God bless me ! Frank, exclaimed the old man, starting 
 forward, I do believe the dog s right. There must be some 
 one there. He paused, and listened; but the sound was 
 not repeated. I certainly did hear something, said he; 
 I 11 see to it. Saying this, he threw open the door so as to 
 admit the light into the room which adjoined the street, and 
 hurried out. In a few moments he returned, bearing in his 
 arms something which looked like a bundle of rags. Going 
 to the light, he sat down, and as he did so he raised his arm, 
 and a long mass of bright golden hair fell back across it, 
 revealing the pale, wasted face of a little girl, scarcely six 
 years of age. How beautiful that face was ! how sadly 
 
26 HARRY H ARSON. 
 
 beautiful ! for amid all the freshness of childhood there was 
 a look of care, as if old age had prematurely crept into her 
 bosom and placed its stamp upon her heart. 
 
 A child ! a mere child 1 said the old man, as he passed 
 his hand through her hair ; * a poor, half-starved, broken- 
 down little child: get some water, Frank, said he to his 
 crony, who stood twisting his fingers together, and thrusting 
 his hands in his pockets and drawing them out again with 
 great energy, as if infected with a strong inclination to per 
 form some action, the nature of which he had not yet 
 ascertained. 
 
 * Give her -some wine ! exclaimed he, suddenly. Where 
 is it? 
 
 * In the cupboard, on the top shelf. Quick, Frank ! Poor 
 little thing ! how thin she is ! 
 
 Frank rushed to the cupboard; seized the bottle with 
 both hands, and attempted to draw the cork with his teeth ; 
 failing in this, he snatched up a knife, and with the back of 
 it struck off the neck of the bottle at a blow, and dashed 
 part of its contents into a tumbler. 
 
 Spite, equally excited, sprang upon a table, and with his 
 legs wide apart, to give himself a firm footing, closed both 
 eyes, and pointing his nose to the ceiling, barked vociferously. 
 
 Pausing every few moments to clear his throat, the Doc 
 tor, in good earnest, set about restoring his unexpected pa 
 tient ; and it was not long before her eyes opened, and she 
 became aware of what had passed. 
 
 Harry Harson was not the man to leave his good work 
 half-completed ; and telling his companion to bring the light, 
 he took the child in his arms, carried her to his room, and 
 placed her in his own bed : and ringing for a female servant 
 who had lived with him for many years, he left her to her 
 care, first directing her to prepare a nutritious beverage 
 
HARRY HARSON. 27 
 
 which the Doctor had prescribed ; wisely judging that rest 
 and food were what she most required. 
 
 Frank, said Harson, as he once more seated himself in 
 is arm-chair, and applied his mug to his lips ; that child 
 as had hard usage. 
 
 That she has, replied the other. 
 
 There are great brutes in this world, Frank. 
 
 D d ones ! answered the Doctor. 
 
 There was a pause, during which Harson looked in the 
 fire, at the clock, and on the floor. At last, his eyes rested 
 on the face of his companion. I hope she won t be sick ; 
 but you 11 see to her to-morrow, will you, Frank ? 
 
 The Doctor nodded ; and again Harson paused and seemed 
 embarrassed. At last he said : You know, Frank, that I 
 am well-to-do in the world ; and that any expense 
 
 He paused abruptly ; for the Doctor, who was in the act 
 of raising his mug to his lips, suddenly put it down, without 
 tasting its contents, and laying his pipe beside it, looked 
 him full in the face. Well 1 
 
 There was something in that single monosyllable so 
 strongly indicative of hostility, that Harson waited until the 
 Doctor repeated it. Well ? You said you were well-to-do 
 in this world. What then ? 
 
 Come, come, Frank, keep your temper! said Harson, 
 mildly. You know very well what I was going to say ; 
 arid you must not get vexed at it. 
 
 Yes, I do know what you were going to say. You 
 wanted to tell me that I had no right to help that child 
 without your paying for it. I m not vexed, Harry, not in 
 the least : but that s all cursed nonsense. She s my 
 patient. 
 
 But she s in my house. 
 
 I do n t care if she is, replied the Doctor, rapidly in- 
 
28 HARRY H ARSON. 
 
 creasing in warmth. I don t care whose house she s in, 
 Come here I will. Attend her I will, at all times, morning, 
 noon, and night, at all hours : and I 11 blister, purge, leech, 
 bleed, cup, vomit ay, and I 11 do a hundred other things, if 
 it s necessary. Let me tell you that; yes, and without a 
 single cent, whether you like it or not. I d like to see you 
 prevent it ! I 11 come to-morrow, at day-light, Sir ; and if 
 you do n t open the door, I 11 break it down. See if I do n t ! 
 
 As he concluded this speech, he rose from his chair, and 
 clapping his hat on his head, left the house. Harson followed 
 him out, and called after him, but he made no reply ; and the 
 old man returned to the room, and stood in front of the fire, 
 sad at heart that any word of his, however kindly meant, 
 should have sent an old friend from his roof with an unkind 
 feeling. While he was standing there, the door was opened 
 ajar, and the head of the Doctor was thrust in. 
 
 * Harry, my old fellow, he said, in very different tones 
 from those which Harson had last heard, * are you angry 
 with me ? 
 
 No, Frank, no. 
 
 Nor am I with you. God bless you, Harry. Good 
 night! 
 
 The door was shut with a slam ; and the next moment, 
 the sound of the gate swinging against the gate-post, showed 
 that the Doctor was in the street. 
 
HARRY HARSON. 29 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 MRS. CHOWLES was the name of an elderly lady who was 
 the confidential adviser of Harry liaison in all cases of emer 
 gency ; and as he regarded the unexpected addition of the 
 child to his family in that light, he determined to speak 
 with her on the subject without loss of time ; and towards 
 her dwelling he accordingly directed his steps. 
 
 It was in a dim, unfrequented part of the city ; one of 
 those out-of-the-way, shut-up streets, which are found in the 
 heart even of this great, ever-changing metropolis, where 
 the casual tread of a passer-by awakens echoes which startle 
 the quiet tenants of the neighborhood, and draw to the 
 windows heads and faces, and caps and head-gear, that might 
 have belonged to the last century. Grass grows in the cre 
 vices of the stones in the summer season ; and tall weeds, 
 taking root in the gutters and on the eaves of the houses, 
 nod sociably to plants of the same vagabond family, who, 
 more aspiring than themselves, have gained a foothold in 
 the moss which clings to the roofs. Time had played queer 
 antics in other parts of the city, and made a fearful pulling 
 down, remodelling, building up, laying out of streets ; shut 
 ting up gardens, extinguishing blinking old windows, altering 
 gray, antiquated houses into prim, fashionable new ones ; 
 and throwing such an air of dashing juvenility about their 
 crumbling frames, that those who had grown old in their 
 precincts became sad to see the change. These, and many 
 things of a like nature, had been going on in other parts of 
 the town ; but this little spot had dodged the general 
 
80 HARRY HARSON. 
 
 improvement, and now had . a frightened, wary expression, 
 and seemed to eye with suspicion every one who broke in 
 upon its solitude. 
 
 It was in this quiet nook, and in a sleepy old house, with 
 wooden shutters and a great semicircular cut in each of 
 them, like a half-closed eye, that the lady lived. She was a 
 widow ; and many years since had deposited a cross-grained 
 husband under the ground, much to the satisfaction of her 
 friends, but to her own great grief; for she was a warm 
 hearted, high-tempered woman, and, in spite of his foibles, had 
 clung to the gnarled old trunk, around which her affec 
 tions had twined themselves in youth, with a devotion 
 unaccountable to all. Harry Harson had been the friend 
 of her husband, and at his death he became hers. Year 
 in and year out, he had gone to and from that house, 
 as unceremoniously as if it had been his own; and always 
 found a hand to welcome him, and a ready smile to greet 
 him and his dog; not but that he and the ]ady had 
 their hours of storm as well as sunshine; for, to tell the 
 truth, high words often passed between them ; but even 
 though they might occasionally part in dudgeon, it was for 
 gotten by both, and the next evening for Harry s visit saw 
 him there, the same as ever ; and he always found the great 
 oaken arm-chair drawn out, his pipe filled, and a mug of hot 
 toddy, mixed by the widow s own hand, waiting his arrival ; 
 just as if his arrival were a matter of course. 
 
 It was a Christmas day, or rather the day was fast fading 
 into twilight, as Harry turned the corner of the street in 
 which Mrs. Chowles lived. He was in a gay mood that 
 evening. His step was light and buoyant, and he hummed 
 a merry old Christmas song as he went. Occasionally he inter 
 rupted it to bestow a friendly word upon Spite, who, close at 
 his heels and as gay as his master, ambled along on three 
 
HARRY H ARSON. 31 
 
 legs ; the fourth, after an affectation common to small dogs, 
 being kept as a corps de reserve, and only used to aid him 
 in skipping over a gutter, or a puddle of unusual magnitude. 
 
 Harry Harson had passed his Christmas evenings with the 
 widow as long as he could remember. It was a pleasant 
 thing to see how familiarly he raised the latch and with 
 what confidence he walked in, like one sure of a welcome. 
 As one of the neighbors sagaciously observed, it was a sight 
 to see him. 
 
 He stepped briskly across the cleanly-swept room, into 
 which the street-door opened, and with a free-and-easy air 
 knocked at the door of an inner room, into which none but 
 Mrs. Chowles and a few of her special cronies were admitted. 
 
 * Who s there ? demanded a shrill voice. 
 
 Her visitor did not answer, but repeated his knock, an v . 
 stood with his full face beaming with fun, ready to enjoy her 
 surprise, when she should open the door and discover who 
 was there. But it did not open as soon as he expected, and 
 the same voice exclaimed, * Get you gone. I want none of 
 your company. No one shall come in at this hour, not even 
 if it were honest old Harry Harson himself. 
 
 * I have something of importance to tell you, and I came 
 early, said Harry, not a little humbled ; which same humility 
 deprived his voice of so much of its usual hearty tone that 
 the woman did not recognize it. 
 
 Away with you ! she repeated, in the same exalted key. 
 You may knock till doom s day ; but come in you ska n t f* 
 
 Harry s heart was full. Man and boy, for thirty years, he 
 had spent his Christmas evenings in that little back-room. 
 He had occupied the same corner, the same chair, and the 
 same little tripod-stand on which to place his toddy, and rest 
 the end of his long pipe, as he smoked ; and now he wa? 
 turned away like a dog ! He thumped the end of his stick on 
 
32 HARRY U ARSON. 
 
 the floor, as much as to say that he hoped the devil might 
 catch him if ever he crossed that threshold again. He cast a 
 glance at Spite, who had turned short upon his auxiliary 
 leg, and was looking at him with an eye whose expression 
 indicated that if his master stomached that, he was not the 
 man he took him to be, and turned to go. 
 
 There was something peculiar in that thump of the cudgel, 
 and in the step of the man, which caught the ear of the lady, 
 who was listening at the key-hole for the purpose of being 
 ready with a retort to any reply with which the intruder 
 might feel disposed to favor her ; and she opened the door 
 only in time to catch a glimpse of the broad-skirted coat of 
 a man, and the tightly-curled tail of a dog, as they passed 
 out. 
 
 Harry Harson ! Harry Harson ! I say, exclaimed she, in 
 turn almost melted into tears, as she saw her warm-hearted 
 crony leaving her house fairly provoked. * Come back, 
 Harry ! Where are you going ? 
 
 Harry heard her well enough, but he would not give in 
 at once, and went stoutly out into the street ; for he well 
 knew that there was another entrance to the house, which 
 the widow could reach from within much sooner than he 
 could from without ; and he walked slowly to give her time. 
 True to his expectation, the widow was there, and as he was 
 passing, without saying a word, she seized him by the arm 
 and dragged him through a dark alley, and across divers 
 passages, cluttered up with pails, pots, pans, and other 
 mysterious utensils for family purposes ; nor did she release 
 her grasp until she had fairly seated him in his usual corner. 
 Having him safely caged, she felt that she might with pro 
 priety indulge a slight outbreak of anger, and, turning sharply 
 upon him, she asked : 
 
 * What s the meaning of this, Harry ? What has put it 
 
HARRY H ARSON. 33 
 
 into your head to treat an old friend after this fashion? 
 I m ashamed of you ! 
 
 You would not let me in, said Harson, gravely. 
 
 Who knew it was you ? rejoined the widow. 
 
 You said, even if it were me, that I should n t come in, T 
 replied Harson. 
 
 * Yes, but I did n t know that your two ears were within 
 hearing. I wanted to make what I said impressive. But 
 come ; have done with this ; I ll have no squabbling on 
 Christmas day. 
 
 Ah ! Spite, poor Spite ! Spite ! Spite ! Spite ! said she, 
 turning to the dog, and snapping her fingers in the most 
 insinuating manner ; but Spite, pup and dog, had been there 
 as punctually and nearly as long as his master ; and although 
 a small dog, he was a high-stomached one. He felt that he 
 had been turned off, too ; and was not to be brought round 
 at the first word ; so, after looking coldly at her, he turned 
 stiffly away, and walked with a tight tail to a corner, like a 
 dog resolved not to be taken in by specious professions. But 
 the widow knew the soft spot in the dog s heart as well as 
 in his master s. So she got up, took from a shelf in the 
 kitchen a small woollen mat, and placing it directly in front 
 of the fire, again made friendly overtures. Spite, by this 
 time, had discovered that the corner which he had selected 
 for his retreat was too much ventilated by a large rat- 
 hole in its immediate vicinity, and being an invalid, and 
 subject to attacks of rheumatism, in the lower joint of his 
 right hind-leg, suffered himself to be mollified, and was 
 finally induced, as an act of great condescension, to repose 
 upon the mat aforesaid, where he dozed and snored for the 
 rest of the evening, occasionally enlivening the conversation 
 by a sudden sharp yelp, as, awakened by the heat, he testily 
 shifted his position, and turned his cold side to the fire. 
 
 2* 
 
34 HARRY II ARSON. 
 
 It was a snug, warm little room in which they were, 
 serving partly as a kitchen and partly as a gossiping-room 
 for the widow and her cronies. A high dresser, with plates, 
 pans, kettles, and snow-white crockery glittering in the light 
 <>f the fire, and reflecting fifty little fires on their surfaces, 
 stood in one corner. In another, was a wide antiquated 
 mahogany table, as black as jet, and shining so that one 
 might see his face in it ; and standing cheek by jowl with it 
 was a huge mahogany bureau, with two brass handles hang 
 ing like door-knockers to each drawer. Then there were 
 wide-seated chairs with great crooked legs, and leathern 
 bottoms, and prim little wooden ones with straight legs and 
 uncomfortable backs, and low wooden stools for the feet, and 
 a queer, oddly-shaped, diminutive arm-chair with a mended 
 leg, probably intended for the use of some old-fashioned 
 child. On the floor was a thick, soft rag-carpet, covering 
 the whole of it, excepting the great stone hearth which 
 extended at least five feet into the room ; and lastly, on the 
 edge of this same hearth, was a small mahogany stand with 
 three legs, on which stood Harry Harson s mug of hot 
 toddy ; and on which rested Harry Harson s elbow, and the 
 end of his long pipe ; and beside which was a capacious 
 arm-chair, with a high back and huge carved arms, and a 
 pair of bandy legs, in which was seated the burly figure of 
 Harson himself. 
 
 The widow drew a chair to the small stand, and taking 
 up her work, seated herself near the light and commenced 
 sewing. Her companion lighted his pipe, and permitting it 
 to rest idly on the table, looked around the room. 
 
 4 You .are very snug here, Mrs. Chowles, said he, after he 
 had finished his survey. Very snug; you must be very 
 happy here. 
 
 The widow glanced hastily at him, and replied : Yes, yes, 
 
HARRY HARSON 35 
 
 Harry, I am quite contented at least I hope I am ; but 
 t Ve been happier here ; and one ca n t always forget. But 
 all is very comfortable about me : and I ve much to be 
 thankful for. I know it, Harry ; and I endeavor always to 
 keep it in my mind. 
 
 Harson for some moments did not interrupt the pause 
 which succeeded the reply of the woman ; and when he did, 
 his words caused Mrs. Chowles to look at him with some 
 surprise ; for he murmured, as if speaking to himself : * Poor 
 child ! so young, and to have seen so much suffering ! 
 
 Apparently unconscious that he had spoken, Harson re 
 sumed his pipe, and surrounded himself with a thick halo 
 of smoke, without saying another word. Mrs. Chowles, 
 however, broke in upon his reverie by inquiring where his 
 wits were ; a question wV.ih caused the old man to look up 
 more bewildered than ever, for at that moment the objects 
 of her inquiry were very busily engaged with the child 
 whom he had left under hi: ^wn roof. Drawing his chaii 
 closer to the chimney-place, stretching his feet to the fire, 
 and having excited the curiosity of the widow to agony- 
 pitch by telling her that he had something of importance to 
 communicate, and by delaying this communication until he 
 had looked at his dog to see that he was comfortable ; and 
 by clearing his throat and sipping his toddy, and by puffing 
 deliberately at his pipe to clear his ideas, and by getting up 
 to shake the cushion of his chair, and by sundry other small 
 performances, usually preparatory to confidential communica 
 tions, which nearly bring about the death of the expectant 
 listener, if such listener be of a fidgetty temperament, 
 Harson began his story, and recounted such meagre particu 
 lars respecting the child as he had been able to glean in the 
 course of the day. 
 
 And few enough they were ; a detail of want, sickness 
 
36 HARRY HARSON. 
 
 and suffering ; yet, mingled with them all, was a vague re 
 collection of better days, of times and places, and even of 
 persons, which started up in her memory in fitful flashes like 
 familiar things, and then faded away until she thought that 
 she must have seen them only in dreams, and that wretched 
 ness was the only reality she had ever known. She had a 
 dim fancy, too, of a kind face, which long since had looked 
 upon her often and often, and had smiled upon her, and 
 pressed its shadowy lips to her cheek. It seemed like that 
 of an old friend ; and even long after other things had 
 grown less vivid in her memory, that face lingered ; but it 
 was growing more and more dim, and it sometimes made 
 her sad to think so ; for she felt as if an old friend were 
 leaving her forever. Child as she was, she had thought 
 much of it, and wondered why that same face should appear 
 so often, and why she should love it above all others, and 
 whether she had ever seen it elsewhere. She supposed she 
 had not ; for, except in these occasional and twilight fancies, 
 she had no recollection of having been otherwise than she 
 now was. These, and many other glimmerings of memory, 
 mingled with such sad realities of her history as made his 
 heart ache, Harson had gathered from the child, as she sat 
 that morning on a small bench at his feet, with her head 
 leaning against his knee. 
 
 Mrs. Chowles laid down her work as he went on ; and 
 drawing still closer to him, and leaning her cheek on her 
 hand, and fixing her eyes on his, listened with deep interest 
 and without interrupting him. She was a warm-hearted 
 woman, and long before the story was concluded she had 
 formed a plan for the child. She thought how snugly she 
 could put up a little bed in that room for her, and how 
 cheeiful she would make the house ; for the old woman was 
 sociably inclined ; and although she was not at all at a loss 
 
HARRY H ARSON. 37 
 
 for cronies, among the stiff-capped dames of her neighbor 
 hood, still she longed for the merry tone of a child s voice. 
 How cheerful and young she felt as she thought of it ! How 
 bright and youthful her withered cheek became, and how 
 her dark eyes lighted up to the old lustre, which had made 
 them not to be gazed on with impunity in days gone by ! 
 Every thing was settled in her mind. The child was to 
 come to her house, live with her, and sleep in that very 
 room. She would be a pleasant companion on the long 
 evenings, and would make her fire-side quite gay when Harry 
 should come to visit them. But Harson s final words put an 
 end to her plans. 
 
 Well, Mrs. Chowles, said he, * she s under my roof, and 
 so help me Heaven ! there she shall stay until I can better 
 her situation. She has left a brother in the place she came 
 from ; but she knows nothing of the city, and ca n t even 
 tell the name of the street where it was, although she would 
 know the spot if she saw it. To-morrow I shall apply at 
 the police for a warrant against the woman. The child says 
 her name is Blossom ; and perhaps the knowledge of that, 
 may put the officers on the right track to find her house. 
 We must get the boy out of her hands, or this child will 
 never be herself. 
 
 The widow looked long and wistfully at the old man, as 
 if desirous of saying something. At last she inquired : 
 
 4 Wo n t she trouble you, Harry ? Wo n t she be in the 
 way in your house ? 
 
 Not a whit ! replied Harson. Beside, widow, said he, 
 assuming more than his usual earnestness, suppose she 
 were ? what then ? Should I fling her back to those from 
 whom she came, and leave her, pure and spotless as she now 
 is, in the power of those who would make her what I blush 
 
38 HARRY HARSON. 
 
 to name ? Surely not, surely not ! Mrs. Chowles, can you 
 advise such a course ? 
 
 As he spoke, Harson rested his pipe on the table and 
 looked in the face of his friend with a grave seriousness 
 which showed that he was not a little troubled at such a 
 suggestion from such a quarter. 
 
 I did not mean that, said Mrs. Chowles, not a little con 
 fused at the misinterpretation of her meaning. * I thought 
 that if she were in your way, and you have always been a 
 single man, and unused to the ways of children, might have 
 found her a burden, that, as I was here, and alone, perhaps 
 you might spare her to me, I would take charge of her until 
 we could learn something more about her. 
 
 The ice fairly broken, the widow became quite urgent in 
 her request ; demonstrating to her own satisfaction that she 
 liked children above all things, and more particularly a child 
 exactly like this one ; and how pleasant it would be for her 
 to have her in the house, and how anxious she always had 
 been to have some one about her, besides the deaf woman- 
 servant who served as cook, waiter, and chambermaid ; and 
 how comfortable, and snug, and merry they would be, and 
 how much better it would be for the child to be with her 
 than with Harry, or in fact with any other person in the 
 world. Having consumed her breath and rhetoric at the 
 same time, she paused for a reply. 
 
 Harson, when she began to answer, had listened with some 
 anxiety ; but as she went on, his expression became more 
 complacent, and he raised his pipe to his mouth and smoked 
 in silence, with his eyes intently fixed on her face until she 
 paused. 
 
 Is this Lorillard s best ? inquired he, after a long and 
 thoughtful interval had elapsed. 
 
HARRY EAR SON. 39 
 
 * Phsaw ! interrupted the widow, you re thinking of the 
 tobacco, when I m speaking of the child. What do you say 
 to my proposition ? 
 
 I 11 think of it, replied Harson. At present I say 
 nothing, one way or the other. 
 
 "While the widow was yet urging her point, the door had 
 been pushed gently open, and a girl of about seventeen years 
 of age had entered the room, and seated herself without being 
 observed by either. She waited until there was a pause in 
 the conversation, and then stepped to the table and took off 
 her bonnet, putting back a mass of bright curls that fell 
 across her eyes, and revealing a face which might have made 
 many a young heart ache. Still she was not observed until 
 she laid her hand on Harson s arm., and, in a -low voice, 
 uttered his name. The old man turned, looked up, and 
 started to his feet, caught both her hands in his. 
 
 1 Kate ! my own dear, darling, little Kate ! said he, shaking 
 her hands, and looking in her face, while every feature in his 
 own beamed with heartfelt pleasure. * My own little friend, 
 how is it with you ? All well ? I see it in that merry eye I 
 Well, I m glad of it, Kate. God bless you ! May it always 
 be so. How is the old man ? But did you come here 
 alone ? 
 
 The girl hesitated slightly, and then said : No ; some one 
 came with me and left me at the door. 
 
 I thought so, said the old man, laughing ; * and I 11 
 wager my mug of toddy against the head of a pin, that I 
 can tell who that * some one is. Never mind, Kate ; you 
 need n t blush. He s a fine fellow ; and had I a daughter, 
 I could n t wish her better luck than to get such a husband 
 as Ned Somers. He s poor, it s true, but never fear ; he ll 
 push his way in the world. It s in him ; and the day will 
 come when he ll hold his head with the best of them 
 Come, sit down ; here s a chair. 
 
40 HARR? U ARSON. 
 
 Although the girl laughed, her manner showed that she 
 was ill at ease; and, light-hearted as she seemed, Harry 
 Harson soon observed that there was something in her mind 
 which troubled her. Supposing that she had called ,for the 
 purpose of speaking with Mrs. Chowles alone, he got up, 
 and taking his hat and cane, said that he must go. 
 
 I left the child far from well, said he, * and 1 shall feel 
 anxious till I know how she is. Good night. Come, Spite. 
 
 Spite turned testily on his mat, gaped until his jaws 
 seemed on the eve of cracking, and then leisurely got up. 
 No sooner, however, did Harson prepare to go, than the girl 
 rose, and putting on her bonnet, said she would accompany 
 him, as she had something to communicate to him ; and 
 that he could leave her at her father s house, which they 
 would pass on his way home. 4 If Ned comes, said she to 
 the widow, Hell him I m gone, and with whom. Good 
 night. 
 
 To say that tho widow had no curiosity to know what 
 this communication might be, would be stating what was 
 not the fact ; for although she dropped nothing to lead to a 
 surmise that such was the case, yet she followed them to the 
 door in the hope that something might leak out to furnish a 
 clue to this mysterious interview ; and for some time after 
 they were gone, and their forms hid by a turn in the street, 
 she stood at the door looking in the direction which they 
 had taken. Deriving no peculiar information from this 
 species of airing, she retired to her room, where she again 
 wondered and pondered until she was aroused by a knock 
 at the door, and the entrance of a young man, in obedience 
 to a command from her to that effect, which followed the 
 
 knock. 
 
 Good evening, Mrs. Chowles, said he, looking around 
 
 him ; * but where s Kate ? 
 
HARRY H ARSON. 41 
 
 Gone home, replied the widow, * Harry Harson went with 
 her. She wanted to speak with him. Wo n t you come in, 
 Mr. Somers ? 
 
 No, thank you, replied the young man. I m glad she 
 has seen him. If any one has influence to help her, he can. 
 But I must be off. Good night. And, without stopping 
 to explain the mystery, he too went off, leaving Mrs. 
 Chowles as much in the dark as ever. 
 
42 HARRY HARSON. 
 
 CHAPTEE IY. 
 
 A GLORIOUS night it was; and the moon shone down 
 upon the tall houses, lighting up the seams which time had 
 scored in their old faces ; giving them a cold, gray, corpse- 
 like look, and shining upon the quaint old chimneys which 
 stood high on the house-tops, stark and stiff, like frozen 
 statues, and sparkling, and glittering, and twinkling on the 
 cold window-panes, as if in rivalry of the fire-lights which 
 gleamed from the black shado\vs thrown by the opposite 
 buildings, like the glowing eyes of some great monster, 
 keeping an unwinking watch on passers-by. How still and 
 quiet it was ! Even the light foot-fall of the girl awoke an 
 echo ; yet it was not a dead hush ; for far off, like the hum 
 of a distant hive, was heard the throbbing of the great city. 
 With the girl hanging on his arm, Harson took his way 
 through the street, walking stoutly along, and thumping his 
 cane down, and stepping somewhat proudly, and even more 
 vigorously than he was wont to do ; for some how or other, 
 old as he was, and he made no secret of his years, there was 
 an indefinable feeling, that could scarcely be called vanity, 
 which made him desirous of appearing in the eyes of the 
 young girl who tripped at his side to be, not absolutely a 
 young fellow, for that he did not pretend to be, but a hale, 
 hearty old one ; and that he really was, and a sturdy one 
 too, who had an arm to defend her, ay, and a fist that might 
 have proved an unpleasant deposit on a gentleman s nose, or 
 even in one of his eyes. The old man was proud of his 
 charge ; and well he might be ; for as he walked along and 
 looked down in her glad face, as the full moon shone upon 
 it and lighted up her deep blue eyes, bright and flashing 
 
HARRY H ARSON. 43 
 
 with youth, and the hopes of a young heart, he could not 
 help thinking that she was very beautiful; and that if 
 he had married many years ago, instead of being the stub 
 born, crusty, obstinate old bachelor that he was, he might 
 have had a daughter like her, leaning on his arm and look 
 ing to him for counsel and love. Then across his mind 
 floated the memory of one long since gone ; one whom he 
 had loved when he was a mere boy, and with whom he had 
 strolled on many a bright night like this, and in whose face 
 he had looked, as he now did in that of the girl at his side ; 
 and whose eyes had rested on his, and in whose ears he had 
 whispered many a promise and many a hope ; and who had 
 entered into all his plans, and listened to them without 
 wearying ; for she, poor girl ! had loved him well. The 
 flowers of many a year had bloomed and faded over her 
 grave since then, but he could not forget her. 
 
 She was like you, Kate, very like you ; indeed she was, 
 Kate, muttered he, choking down a feeling which even then 
 rose in his throat, and making an abortive attempt at 
 whistling. 
 
 The girl looked up, as if expecting him to say something 
 more, and then simply asked, Who, Harry ? 
 
 The old man started as if the sound of another s voice 
 had awakened him from a dream. Did you speak, Kate ? 
 Oh ! ay, I remember ; I was dreaming, I was dreaming; sad 
 dreams, sad dreams ! Never mind, Kate, never mind. But 
 Kate, said he, suddenly stopping short in his walk and 
 facing his companion, * you had something to tell me ; and 
 here we are at your own home, and I have been talking of 
 other things, without giving you a chance to utter a word. 
 It s a bright night ; we 11 walk up and down here, and 
 you can tell me what you have to say. Come, Kate. 
 
 Although the girl had sought the interview, and had come 
 
44 HARRY EAR SON. 
 
 out for the express purpose of communicating something 
 to him, yet now she seemed to find it far from easy to 
 commence. 
 
 Is it about the old man ? asked Harson, after nearly a 
 minute had elapsed without her having uttered a word ; Is 
 he ill ? or in trouble ? 
 
 No, no, he s well ; replied the girl, hastily ; but he s 
 sadly altered in manner. 
 
 * He s old, Kate, very old ; and you must bear with him ; 
 replied Harson. 
 
 * Bear with him, Harry ! repeated she, earnestly ; is there 
 any thing that I would not do for him ? Oh ! no, no ! It 
 is not for myself that I speak. But he has strangely 
 altered, indeed; and I fear, Harry, that all is not as it should 
 be. He sits much by himself, goes out much, and at strange 
 hours for one like him. He starts at every noise, and now 
 in his old age, when his mind should be at peace, it seems 
 filled with fear. Persons come to see him who never used 
 to visit him. Heaven grant that I do not slander them ; 
 but there are some among them whose faces seem blighted 
 and seared by God s curse. I m afraid, Harry, said she, 
 sinking her voice, that they are hatching some plot to lead 
 him to his ruin. He s known to have money, and what is 
 there that some would not do to obtain that ? A man s 
 gold has often put him in his coffin. 
 
 Harson walked on in silence. There was something in 
 the impressive, earnest manner of the girl, that startled 
 him, and as it were forced the very truth of her suspicion 
 on him ; but still he did not show it ; and after a moment s 
 silence he said : I Ve no fear for his life, Kate ; as for the 
 rest, it may be all fancy. His going out at unusual hours 
 may have excited your suspicions ; and these, once on the 
 alert, would lead you to observe many peculiarities of man 
 ner which had hitherto escaped your iiotice. No, no, Kate ; 
 
HARRY H ARSON. 45 
 
 depend on it, Jacob Rhoneland has not lived till eighty to 
 become a dupe or a victim in his old age. 
 
 The girl shook her head : I wish it were so, indeed I do ! 
 But she knew that it was otherwise, and so she told Harson. 
 Until within a year he had been a blithe-hearted old man ; 
 and although time was telling upon him, he bore sturdily up 
 against it, and made his home a snug and happy one for his 
 child. But about a year previous, a man had come there, 
 a stranger, whom she had never seen before. He had 
 entered the house without ceremony, and asked for Rhone- 
 land. Her father had started as he saw the stranger, and 
 taking him by the arm led him out of the room. From 
 that time her father had become changed. He grew moody 
 and irritable ; shunned her company, and spoke little to her 
 The stranger came often ; and not urifrequently contrived to 
 drop in the room where she was, and endeavored to enter into 
 conversation with her. But the old man watched him nar 
 rowly, and he seldom found a chance ; but although he thus 
 balked the. humor of his visitor, it was evident that he did 
 it with fear. But now and then there were transient gleams 
 of his former kindliness of disposition, when his heart seemed 
 to struggle against its bonds, and a gush of his old affection 
 welled up and showed itself. And at times like these when 
 she threw her arms around his neck, and begged him to 
 confide in her; to turn his back upon those who were 
 breaking him down, and to love her as he once had done ; 
 he would put her aside kindly, and tell her that she was a 
 child, that she did not know what she said, but that she 
 meant well, and that he was not angry with her ; and then, 
 patting her on the head, would send her away. At other 
 times he was fierce and irritable ; and then she dared not 
 speak to him, or to let him see that she observed his mood, 
 for it made him worse. And these turns generally came on 
 
46 HARRY HARSOX. 
 
 after a visit from the stranger. Such was the substance of 
 the girl s story. 
 
 He s out to-night, said she, and I was afraid to stay 
 alone in the house ; so I went to Mrs. Chowles . Hist ! there 
 he comes, now ! Do n t look at him ; pretend not to see 
 him! 
 
 As she spoke, she pointed to a person who was approach 
 ing. He was a large man, apparently very old, but still a 
 giant in frame. He passed them with his long white hair 
 hanging on his shoulders, his hands clasped behind his back, 
 muttering to himself, but looking neither to the right nor left. 
 
 * He s on his way home, said the girl, in a whisper ; he s 
 been with him to-night. 
 
 Him S who ? inquired Harson. 
 
 The strange man. * Michael Rust, he calls himself. 
 
 They both stopped and watched the old man until he en- 
 .tered his house ; and then Harson walked slowly on, with 
 the hand of the arm which supported the girl s thrust in the 
 breast of his coat, his head bent forward, and his eyes fixed 
 on the ground. At last he looked in her face, and observing 
 something in its expression which induced him to believe 
 that she had something farther to say, he asked : 
 
 Is that all, Kate ? 
 
 The girl hesitated ; at last she said : There is something 
 else ; about myself. 
 
 Whatever it was it seemed very difficult to communicate ; 
 for she paused again, until Harson said : Well, Kate ; do n t 
 be afraid to tell me ; look upon me as a brother ; an old bro 
 ther quite an old one. There, go on now. 
 
 4 1 am sure, said she, speaking hurriedly, and in a low 
 voice, and leaning her face so as almost to touch that of the 
 eld man, that this man, this Rust, has spoken to father 
 
HARRY EARS ON. 47 
 
 about me me and Ned. He do n t like Ned ; he has met 
 him twice at the house, and Ned would n t give up to him ; 
 and once or twice he put him down. He has hated Ned 
 ever since ; and I am sure has tried to get father to forbid 
 him the house. Ned thinks so too, and was for quarrelling 
 with him at once ; but I advised him to keep quiet, and told 
 him that I would speak to you about it. I hope you 11 ad 
 vise us what to do, Harry. 
 
 The girl s voice became thick and husky as she spoke ; 
 and as Harson looked at her, he saw that she was very 
 pale. 
 
 * What does your father say ? inquired he. 
 
 He likes Ned, and would n t listen to it, at first ; and I 
 thought was glad to see Rust cowed before him. But he 
 begins to speak differently now; although he does not 
 say much. His manner toward Ned is changed, and Ned 
 feels it. 
 
 Again Harson walked on in silence ; at last, stopping in 
 front of the house where she lived, he said : * This is all very 
 strange, Kate ; but depend on me I 11 fathom it yet. Let 
 me take my own way about it, and we 11 see what s~ to be 
 done ; but I must not act hastily. I m glad you spoke to 
 me. Here s your home; good night. Keep your own 
 counsel, Kate. God bless you ! 
 
 Kate paused upon the threshold, watching his retiring 
 figure until he crossed the street, and was hid by the black 
 shadow of the opposite buildings. 
 
 As he disappeared, Kate s eyes filled with tears. There 
 he goes, my best, my only friend ! If he fail, God help me ! 
 said she, clasping her hands, and pressing them convulsively 
 to her bosom. * Good, kind, warm-hearted old Harry Har 
 son I God bless vou, indeed ! 
 
48 HARRY HARSON. 
 
 Have n t you a kind word for me, too, Kate ? said a per 
 son who had come up, while she was gazing in the opposite 
 direction. I Ve been waiting this half hour for you and 
 Harson to get through your conversation. Have n t you a 
 * Good night, Ned, for me ? Come Kate, said he, taking 
 her hand, and pressing it kindly, say, Good night, 
 Ned!" 
 
 Good night, Ned, said she, repeating the words, with a 
 faint smile. 
 
 Can you tell me nothing more, Kate ? said he, still lin 
 gering, and holding her hand. 
 
 The girl shook her head, for her heart was too full to speak. 
 
 * Well, Kate, I 11 not keep you in the cold ; good night ! 
 God bless you ! Brighter days will come yet, never fear. 
 He shook her hand again, and went off, not however without 
 looking back, and waving his hand several times, before he 
 was out of sight. 
 
 Kate stood there long after he was gone ; and then, turn 
 ing slowly, went into the house. She paused at the door of 
 an inner room, which was partly open, and looked in, without 
 entering. It was a small, confined room ; lighted only by a 
 single candle, which flared wildly in the wind, caused by the 
 open door ; shedding an unsteady, nickering light. Mean, 
 in every respect, the room was ; without carpet, with a wood 
 en table, a large wooden chest, plentifully studded with brass 
 nails, and secured by a padlock, large enough for a custom 
 house store, and a few wooden chairs. In one of these sat 
 Jacob Rhoneland. He had a noble head ; with white, sil 
 very locks, and a broad, high forehead ; ruddy cheeks, and 
 eyes that flashed and sparkled, in defiance of age. A coat 
 of rusty brown, much too large for his person, faded, darned, 
 and patched, with huge pockets, hanging open and reaching 
 
HARRY HARSON. 49 
 
 to his heels; pantaloons of the same material, and heavy 
 shoes, completed his attire. He was sitting in front of the 
 fire, his knees crossed, and his arms around them, rocking to 
 and fro, and talking to himself: 
 
 Does old age bring fancies with it such as these ? mut 
 tered he. Does the grave fling its shadows into the land 
 of life ? Is there any thing here, here] said he, pressing 
 his hand against his breast, that gold wo n t quiet 1 Ha ! 
 ha ! look at that smoke as it dances up the chimney ! 
 It s but air, and yet I saw faces in it. How they leered at 
 me, and grinned ! What eyes they had ! Michael Rust s 
 eyes ! How they whispered, and giggled, as they whirled 
 up the chimney ? Who s there ? exclaimed he, starting to his 
 feet, as the door creaked at the touch of the girl, who was 
 entering. What, Kate! eaves-dropping? Did you hope 
 to overhear much ? Did you hope to find the road to hap 
 piness by playing spy on an old man ! Did you want to 
 fcarn the secrets of your father, to hold them like a lash 
 over his head ? I say, Kate, have you been listening ? 
 
 * I have, father, replied the girl, laying her hand upon his 
 arm. * I have been listening ; and I have heard enough to 
 let me know that you are far from happy. Oh, father ! why 
 will you not cast from you those dark thoughts and dreams, 
 and, above all, avoid those who bring them ? 
 
 The old man looked anxiously in her face, and moved 
 restlessly ; but he did not turn from her. 
 
 * I speak of that man who has been here so often of late ; 
 continued she, he with the dark hair, and an eye that never 
 meets yours. 
 
 * You mean Rust, Michael Rust ; do n t offend him, 
 Kate! said the old man, earnestly, and speaking fast. 
 4 1 tell you, Kate, that man, miserable as he seems, has me 
 in his power. Do you hear that, girl ? and can, if he will, 
 crush me body and soul ; but trust me, my own dear child, 
 
 3 
 
50 HARRY H ARSON. 
 
 when I tell you, that although I cannot control the power 
 he has over me, and although he can make these old cheeks 
 tingle, yet Jacob Rhoneland, were the truth known, could 
 look his fellow-man in the face without fear/ 
 
 * I believe it, father, I know it ; exclaimed the girl ear 
 nestly. But, asked she, why does he come here so often ? 
 he does not seem to have any object. 
 
 The old man drew her to him and looked into her eyes ; 
 but he saw nothing but an expression of undisguised anxiety 
 on his own account. At last he said : 
 
 * You re a mere child in the ways of the world, my poor 
 little Kate ; I cannot tell you more now. Why should I 
 lay a heavy load upon your young heart ? 
 
 Oh, father, exclaimed the girl, if you did but know how 
 willingly I would bear it, you would not hesitate. I am a 
 poor, feeble-minded girl, not fit to advise or counsel you ; 
 but listen to me, dear father will you ? 
 
 1 Yes, Kate, yes, said the old man, taking her hand. I 11 
 always listen to you, for you always mean well ; I know 
 that, and I like to hear the sound of your voice. I ve heard 
 it so long, Kate, that I should feel sad to lose it now very 
 sad, Kate. 
 
 God grant that you never may ! said the girl. God 
 grant that I may not die and leave you here with none to 
 care for you. 
 
 Die, Kate, die ! exclaimed Rhoneland, starting back and 
 running his eye over her form, as if in search of some latent 
 symptom of disease ; Oh ! no, no ! do n t talk of that 
 do n t talk of that. That would be sad, indeed ; but that s 
 folly, mere folly. What were you going to say ? 
 
 I wanted to ask, said she, in a hesitating voice, if there 
 be no way of breaking off our intercourse with that man Rust. 
 Father, you are never well after he is gone. Sometimes fox 
 
HARRY H ARSON. 51 
 
 days afterward you are not yourself. There s something 
 ,in your connection with him that is tugging away at your 
 heart. I know there is. Break with him at once ! Do, do 
 for my sake ! * 
 
 The old man grasped her hands in his, which shook vio 
 lently ; while his eyes glanced round the room, with a start 
 led, suspicious look. Hush ! Kate, said he, in a whisper, 
 * do n t speak of that ; do n t speak of it, or even think of it. 
 Be civil to him, Kate. Come what may, Kate, do n t be 
 
 rude ; you must not ; and I Never mind ; there, 
 
 Kate, go, go ; not a word more. 
 
 As he spoke, he gently pushed her from him ; and once 
 more turning to the fire, took his seat, and watched the 
 smoke as it eddied up the gaping chimney, occasionally cast 
 ing a glance at his daughter, to see that she was not studying 
 his features. And thus they sat, until a neighboring clock 
 tolled the hour of midnight ; when the old man started up 
 and said : 
 
 Kate, you re growing pale. Go to bed, my child ; go to 
 bed. It will never do for your cheeks to grow thin and 
 white. 
 
 The girl rose ; and the old man kissing her cheek, bade 
 her good-night, and also retired to his own room. 
 
52 HARRY H ARSON. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 IN the neighborhood of Wall-street, in that part of the 
 city where the hum of the moving crowd is greatest, and 
 the tramp of hurrying feet is unbroken, stood a high, narrow 
 house, between two others, as tall and narrow as itself, with 
 windows crowded into every part of it, for the purpose of 
 admitting light into numberless small rooms, which filled its 
 interior. The color of this house had once been bright red ; 
 but the dust had settled in its gutters, through which, they 
 being leaky and out of repair, the rain had trickled in tears 
 of mud down its ruddy front ; so that, although the house 
 was yet in its teens, it had the dusty look of ripe age. 
 From top to bottom, it was occupied. Its vaults were filled 
 with condiments of various kinds, belonging to the keeper 
 of a refectory, who tenanted its basement ; on the first floor 
 a tailor flaunted his sign-board; and thence heavenward, 
 cramped, dusty rooms, begrimed with dirt and cobwebs, and 
 otherwise dark and dingy, with dim entries, and steep stair 
 cases, and doors with tin sigps nailed on them, indicated that 
 lawyers made it their haunt. By lawyers of every class 
 was it tenanted ; by veterans, run down by clients : by 
 those newly launched, as yet run down only by tailors and 
 other duns, and whose offices were usually locked, with a 
 notice on the door, reading thus : Gone to the Hall, or, 
 * Gone to Court ; being professional terms, used by neophytes 
 of the bar, when going, for an indefinite period, to some 
 equally indefinite place. In the upper rooms, the desperadoes 
 of the profession made their roost ; men who locked their 
 
HARRY HARSON. 53 
 
 doors against all clients ; smoked incessantly ; talked loudly ; 
 fought, quarrelled, played cards, and offered to bet dollars by 
 never less than the thousand, thereby showing that they were 
 rich; sung -boisterous songs, and danced hornpipes and 
 other fanciful performances over the heads of the lower 
 floors ; whose offices were redolent with tobacco and brandy, 
 and had an atmosphere resembling a bottled fog ; -who went 
 in and out in squads, taking the key in their pockets, and 
 affixing notices for nobody ; passing through the entry like a 
 drove of horses, and leaving the world at large in profound 
 ignorance as to their whereabouts and occupation. 
 
 Such were the tenants of this building ; but amid them 
 was a single office on the second floor, whose inhabitant dif 
 fered from all the rest. On the door was the simple name, 
 MICHAEL RUST ; no intimation of his profession. None 
 knew him, nor what he did, nor who he was, nor where he 
 went, nor whence he came. Sometimes for weeks the office 
 door was locked, and none entered it. Then a single man came, 
 unlocked the door, took out the key, and locking it on the 
 inside, shut himself in ; remained there sometimes ten or 
 twelve hours, and then went out, locked the door, put the 
 key in his pocket, and was absent again, sometimes for a 
 day, or a week, or a month : even John Smith, the black 
 man in the garret, who kindled the fires, and with a broom 
 smeared the dust over the carpets of the rooms, and called 
 it sweeping, whereby he gained a dollar a month, even he 
 got nothing at his hands. His room was usually locked ; 
 and when John once accidentally got in and found the owner 
 there, he was invited to retire, and not call again. The very 
 mystery of the man created quite an excitement among the 
 desperadoes, one of whom, happening to meet him on the 
 stairs, determined to worm his way into his acquaintance, 
 
54 HARRY HARSON 
 
 and, by way of breaking the ice, remarked to him * that it 
 was a very fine day. 
 
 Who said it wasn t? I m sure / did n t, did I ? de 
 manded Michael Rust, stopping short, and fixing his coal-black 
 eye on the face of the startled speaker, who, not a little 
 abashed, replied : Oh, no ! certainly not. 
 
 Very well, said the other ; * then go to those who deny 
 it, and tell it to them. 1 
 
 Saying which, he turned on his heel, and deliberately de 
 scended the stairs. This brief dialogue got noised about, until 
 it reached the ears of others of the desperadoes, who, incensed 
 that any man should presume to keep his own concerns to 
 himself, forthwith beset him in his office. But he was imper 
 turbable. They danced hornpipes at his door, in the most 
 frantic manner; smoked there by the hour; howled, and 
 yelped, and hooted, until the hall leading to that room was a 
 perfect pandemonium, and several gray-headed lawyers in 
 the neighboring rooms were nearly demented. One of them 
 in particular, who at the time was drawing up a will for a 
 blind man, became so much bewildered, that he inserted his 
 own name instead of that of the residuary legatee mentioned 
 by the testator, whereby he acquired a large property ; never 
 having detected his error until the death of the latter, when ot 
 course it was too late to remedy, and therefore useless to men 
 tion it. But Michael Rust took no notice of these annoyances. 
 He seemed perfectly indifferent, or totally deaf. lie made 
 neither remonstrance nor complaint, but went in and came 
 out the same as ever ; remained there as long as before ; and 
 seemed to suffer no inconvenience, until, brazen-throated as 
 they were, their voices grew husky, and they were compelled 
 to raise the siege, and leave him unmolested in his mystery. 
 
 He had a single visitor, equally taciturn with himself, and 
 
HARRY H ARSON. 55 
 
 equally imperturbable, who came occasionally, gave a single 
 knock at the door, muttered a few indistinct words in the 
 key-hole, and was instantly admitted. He too, in his passages 
 to and from the office, had been way-laid by the desperadoes, 
 and perplexed by knotty and penetrating questions. For 
 some time he met them with the same reserve which cha 
 racterized Michael Rust ; but having been one day closely 
 beset and sorely annoyed by a solitary desperado whom he 
 encountered on the stairs, and being a brawny, square-built 
 fellow, he answered in so unexpected a manner, that his ques 
 tioner, on recovering his composure, found himself on the 
 bottom step of the stairs, somewhat bruised in person, and 
 not a little disfigured in countenance. The precise nature of 
 the reply never leaked out ; but from that hour the stranger 
 passed to and fro free of question. 
 
 On the evening of Christmas night, Michael Rust sat in 
 his office, wrapped in a blue camblet cloak, a red silk hand 
 kerchief bound round his head, and an old hat on the top 
 of that, pressed down so far, that his shaggy brows and 
 twinkling black eyes could scarcely be seen beneath the 
 level of its brim. He was not yet fifty, but his face was 
 thin and wrinkled, his eye glowing, and his complexion 
 sallow, though not sickly ; and there was a dark, sinister 
 look about him, not at all diminished by his shaggy, black 
 brows, and the gipsy-like hair, which here and there 
 stole from beneath his strange head-gear. In his office 
 was a single table covered with green baize ; an ink-stand, 
 pen, and wafers, and two chairs. These constituted all its 
 furniture ; and on one of these chairs, and at this table, sat 
 Michael Rust, engaged in writing. There was no fire in the 
 grate ; and as the dim light of the single candle flickered 
 through the room, a more dismal place could scarcely have 
 been found. 
 
 Scratch, scratch went Rust s pen, down one page and over 
 
56 HARRY H ARSON. 
 
 to the next, and down that. He was a slow, deliberate, 
 untiring writer; and his pen was a stubborn, obstinate 
 stump, which seemed to have an eternity of endurance about 
 it. Occasionally he varied his occupation, by putting the 
 stump in his mouth ; drawing the candle close to him, 
 and poring over the paper. Having at last concluded 
 his writing, he folded it up, and placed it under the ink 
 stand, and muttering something to himself, leaned back in 
 his chair. * Hallo ! said he, in reply to a knock at the door, 
 which brought the chair rapidly forward, and him to his feet ; 
 who s there? 
 
 I am ! responded a gruff voice, from theputside ; * I and 
 somebody else. 7 
 
 Oh ! very well, answered Mr. Rust, without moving 
 you can come in ; but * somebody else must go about hi? 
 business. This is n t his office, and he s no acquaintance 
 of mine. 
 
 But he must come in, returned the voice from without. 
 
 He must, must he ? replied Mr. Rust ; * well, let him ; 
 and saying this, he seated himself, and drawing from a port 
 folio, which he took from a drawer in the table, a small slip 
 of paper, renewed his writing, without paying the slightest 
 regard to the person in the passage, whose knocking now 
 became extremely violent. Rust however had received too 
 much treatment of that kind at the hands of the despera 
 does, to be put down by what could emanate from a single 
 individual ; and with his mouth pursed up to a point, and 
 his sharp black eyes intent on his paper, he wrote on, as 
 unconcernedly as if there were no one within a mile. A foot 
 was soon called to the assistance of the knuckles ; and these 
 being unsuccessful, the visitor demanded a parley : 
 
 4 Can n t I exchange a word with you, Mr. Rust ? he asked, 
 with more deference than he had hitherto used. 
 
HARRY H ARSON. 57 
 
 * Of. course you can, replied Rust, with great suavity, but 
 without discontinuing his writing ; * of course you can ; 
 always happy to exchange civilities with my friends. Go on/ 
 
 * I ca n t speak with a door between us, replied his visitor, 
 angrily. 
 
 Bless my soul ! ca n t you ? replied Rust. Well, there s 
 the key-hole ; speak through that ; the slide s down ; but 
 that does n t matter : I am very quick of hearing. Go on. 
 I m quite impatient. 
 
 Here Mr. Rust chuckled to himself; and laying down his 
 pen, rubbed his hands cheerfully together, after which he 
 resumed writing. A muttered exclamation escaped the man 
 on the outside ; but apparently he saw no alternative save 
 the dismissal of his companion ; and perhaps he knew not a 
 little of the uncompromising character of the man with 
 whom he had to deal. So he yielded the point, and spoke 
 in an under tone to the person with him, who slowly de 
 scended the stairs and went out of the building, shutting the 
 door heavily after him. 
 
 When the noise caused by his departure had ceased to 
 echo through the still house, Rust arose, and taking the light 
 in his hand, opened the door, and looked down the passage, 
 then drew the stranger in the room and turned the key. 
 
 What s the meaning of this, blast ye ! exclaimed he, 
 every trace of merriment vanishing from his face ; his black 
 eye flashing, and his lips working with anger ; what s the 
 meaning of this, I say ? Who was that ? Why did you 
 bring him ? Answer me ! Have I not forbidden the entrance 
 of a soul ? Have I not been beset, from the day that I first 
 came to this house, by those wishing to penetrate my secrecy ? 
 Has not this room been made a very hell on earth by those 
 who would force themselves into my acquaintance ? Ha ! ha 1 
 they would know Michael Rust ! They would know him, 
 3* 
 
58 HARRY HARSON. 
 
 would they ? Few care to do that, do they, good Enoch ? 
 None love him, but good Enoch Grosket ; but he loves him, 
 does n t he? He hates to see Michael alone, and solitary, and 
 ae brings a friend to keep him company, and make him 
 merry. Hark ye, sir ! exclaimed he, suddenly changing his 
 ione ; * I know not why you brought that man here, whether 
 us an eaves-dropper or as witness to conversations which it 
 might suit you to have remembered and me to have forgotten, 
 or merely as a casual friend ; or because you thought that 
 ae might suit my purpose ; but this let me tell you, you 11 be 
 a bold man if you venture it again. 
 
 It was not a pleasant thing to have two such eyes flashing 
 in one s very face ; and to have a voice, husky with passion, 
 hissing in one s ear ; but Mr. Grosket seemed scarcely to listen 
 to him; for, without reply, he walked to the table, and 
 throwing off the cloak which was wrapped about him, drew 
 from his pocket a bundle of papers, and proceeded leisurely 
 to untie them. 
 
 Rust stood in the middle of the room, watching him with 
 a keen, anxious eye, for there was much in his face to perplex 
 him. Its peculiar characteristics were sternness and reso 
 lution, not unmixed with honesty ; perhaps a certain blunt- 
 ness of manner might have added something to this last 
 expression, for many who lack the former adopt the latter 
 as a substitute; and although spurious, it is much more 
 convenient, and passes nearly as current. At last Rust 
 went to the table, and sat down opposite him, pulling his 
 hat over his eyes ; with his feet on the front round of 
 the chair, and his hands folded and resting on the table 
 before him; his thin lips working in and out, but with 
 out speaking. There was a strong contrast between the 
 sharp, fierce face of Michael Rust ; his thin frame and gaunt, 
 wire-like figure, and that of the ponderous, brawny fellow 
 
HARRY H ARSON. 59 
 
 who sat opposite to him, coolly looking over his papers, so 
 confident in his own muscular force and indomitable will, 
 that notwithstanding the outburst of passion which had just 
 escaped his associate, he did not deem it worth while to 
 bestow even a look at his proceedings, or to guard against 
 him. 
 
 Count that, said he, taking from his papers a roll of 
 bank-notes, and placing it in front of Rust. Count that ; 
 there should be five hundred, with interest for five years, 
 which makes it six hundred and seventy-five. 
 
 He threw himself back in his chair as he spoke, and fold 
 ing his arms, looked steadily in the face of his companion. 
 Michael did not move a finger towards the money, but said, 
 in a quick, hurried manner : * How now, Enoch ; what s this ? 
 
 Count it first, replied the man, sternly ; then I ll answer 
 your questions. Not a word, said he, raising his finger, 
 seeing that Rust was preparing to interrupt him; don t 
 speak. [ 11 not answer till you Ve counted that. 
 
 Michael paused a moment, with his sharp black eyes 
 twinkling and flashing, and then wetting the end of his fore 
 finger, proceeded to count the bills. 
 
 * Six hundred and seventy-five, said he, as he finished. 
 
 All right, said Grosket. Now, added he, placing in 
 front of him a paper, sign that. 
 
 Rust took the paper and read it from beginning to end : 
 and then pushing the money back, said to Enoch : * This is 
 a receipt for five hundred dollars, loaned to you to pay off a 
 judgment against you, in favor of John Collins, with interest 
 to date. Poh ! Enoch ; I do n t want the money, and you 
 do. Return it some other time some other time ; a year 
 hence, or two years or at any time. 
 
 Til pay it now? replied Grosket, coldly. Sign that 
 receipt, will you ? 
 
60 HARRY H ARSON. 
 
 1 Well, well, Enoch, if you insist on it, I will, said Rust, 
 taking up his pen, and dipping it in the ink, and signing his 
 name to the receipt. There, said he, pushing the paper tc 
 him. I in glad you re able to pay it ; indeed I am, for 
 your sake. 
 
 A strange smile curled the lip of the other, as he folded 
 up the paper and put it in his pocket. * Now, Michael Rust, 
 said he, in a stern voice, * you and I separate. Five years 
 ago, when I was in want, on the very verge of ruin ; when 
 there was nothing before me but starvation, to my wife and 
 child ; you stepped in between me and my creditors, loaned 
 me this money, and kept them at bay until I could get along. 
 
 * Do n t speak of that, said Rust ; * forget it, Enoch ; I had 
 almost, I assure you. I 
 
 Do n t interrupt me, said Grosket, striking his fist on the 
 table ; hear me out. At that time, I would have died for 
 you. There was nothing that I would not have done for 
 you. 
 
 You were always grateful, Enoch always. Well. 
 
 * Well, said the man, speaking slowly, and in a tone which, 
 though low, was so distinct that even when it sank to a 
 whisper, which it did at times, it was perfectly audible. I 
 did serve you. Deeds, which have caused my cheeks to 
 tingle with shame, deeds which have made me loathe myself, 
 and hate him who could take advantage of the best feelings 
 of a grateful heart to prostitute them to his own evil pur 
 poses, have I done for you. I have followed you in a course 
 of crime ; never swerving, nor shrinking back. Whatever 
 my heart might have felt, my actions never faltered. If at 
 times a feeling of misgiving came over me, I thought of my 
 wife and daughter, and of what they would have been but 
 for you, and I went on. 
 
 4 Well ? said Rust, impatiently, well ? 
 
HARRY HARSON. 61 
 
 1 When I first met you, continued Grosket, that daughter 
 was a mere child, but in five years she became a woman ; 
 and with all a woman s warm confidence of heart, those 
 whom she loved she loved well. 
 
 4 Well, and she married, interrupted Rust. I know all 
 that. 
 
 Ay ! she did marry ! said Grosket, setting his teeth, and 
 speaking in a low, fierce tone ; she DID marry, but not the 
 man she loved. JOM, for your own evil purposes, and with 
 a falseness which I have since detected, blackened his cha 
 racter ; persuaded me, your blind tool, into the belief that he 
 was a scoundrel. I forbade him the house ; and at your 
 instigation, compelled the girl into a marriage which she 
 abhorred ; I I, her father, forced her, with a loathing 
 heart, to the bed of a man whom she hated ! God ! was n t 
 that a noble act for a parent? exclaimed he, shaking his 
 hand at Rust. * Well, continued he, what came of it ? It 
 turned out as might have been expected ; she had broken 
 her vows to the man she loved ; she forgot her faith to the 
 man whom she hated. She died ; and then it was better 
 that she should. My wife followed her, Michael Rust; but 
 I was a strong, iron-hearted man. It did not kill me. I was 
 left ; left, still bound to you, ay, fettered, hand and foot, in 
 chains like iron ; for I knew that the moment I broke with 
 you, would seal my ruin. I was reckless, Michael ; I was 
 desperate ; but I was cool. I could even play the hypocrite, 
 and pretend to lend myself to your plans ; but there came a 
 limit at last. When you commenced your designs on that 
 young girl, Katharine Rhoneland ; young, innocent as my 
 own child once was, then I resolved to shake you off. I 
 have found the means. I have done so ; and now, Michael 
 Rust, I am your enemy; one who will thwart you, though 
 
62 HARRY EARS ON. 
 
 it cost him his life. When a man has lost all in the world 
 except life, he cares little how soon that goes too. 
 
 Rust sat opposite to him, with his eyes fixed on his face, 
 and his thin lips pressed together ; but he suffered nothing 
 to escape him, until Enoch had finished ; and then he said 
 in his quiet, sneering tone : 
 
 Good Enoch is excited ; but he is candid, and tells his 
 story straight and strong. There is no glossing over his 
 words ; no prevarication. His tender heart warms toward a 
 yo^ng girl, only because she resembles his daughter ; only 
 for that reason only for that reason ! He has no other 
 reason. He s very kind, good Enoch is ; very kind ; and 
 nrw, said he, in even a smoother voice than he had hitherto 
 spoken, * there is the door. Good Enoch will please to walk 
 OMt of it. Michael Rust does not like enemies in his room. 
 He prefers being alone. There s the door, good Enoch ; go, 
 do go ! 
 
 The other rose, and stood opposite him; and to judge 
 from his fierce eye and quivering lip, Michael Rust ran no 
 small risk at that moment ; but he never quailed. Upright, 
 front to front and eye to eye, he stood before the man whom 
 he had so deeply wronged. There was indeed a momentary 
 but powerful struggle in the breast of Enoch ; but it might 
 have been the basilisk eye of the man to whom ho had so 
 long surrendered his free-will, fixed on his own, or a secret 
 dread of the stern, unbending spirit which animated the 
 feeble frame before him, which had its influence ; for he 
 gradually mastered his feelings, and turning to the door, 
 said : I know how we stand now, Michael Rust. The worst 
 hate which a man feels, is hate toward one whom he has 
 wronged. / know that, Michael. Now do you recollect 
 this : There s no enemy so much to be dreaded as a des- 
 
HARRY HARSON. 63 
 
 perate man. You were wise in wishing no witness to our 
 conversation. Without waiting for a reply, he turned on his 
 heel and left the house. 
 
 1 So you Ve bolted ! said Mr. Rust, standing with folded 
 arms in front of the table, and apparently apostrophizing the 
 candlestick, for on it his gaze was fastened. You, who 
 could fawn, and grub, and lick the very dust from my feet : 
 conscientious Enoch ! What is conscience ? muttered he ; 
 what is that strange whispering demon, that sometimes 
 starts up in the breast, and holds up all our past misdeeds 
 to view, shaking them over our heads until the cheek grows 
 pale and the heart sinks ? I ve heard of it ; I ve heard of it. 
 Enoch knows it ! FOOL ! exclamed he, FOOL ! he thinks 
 to fling me off! He knows not that I have a hold on his 
 heart, and with a single gripe can crack its life-strings. 
 FOOL ! he must bend, or I 11 crush him ; but not now. 
 He s fairly hooked, and I can afford to let him play, before 
 I drown him ! 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 WITH his head full of his schemes, Michael Rust extin 
 guished the solitary candle, went out, shut the door, forgetting 
 to lock it and put the key in his pocket, sought a small room 
 in an out-of-the-way part of the city, where he was in the 
 habit of roosting; and flinging himself on a bed which 
 occupied a corner of it, tossed, and dreamed, and started till 
 day-break. 
 
 On visiting his office at an early hour, he was not a 
 little surprised to find the door unlocked, and the room 
 occupied by a person, who, after an attentive and careful 
 conning over of all the strange characters which lay hid 
 in out-of-the-way .corners of his memory, he was fully con 
 vinced had never before crossed his path. He was a queer- 
 looking fellow, clad in a suit of rusty black, here and there 
 faded into a dusky red, and variegated with occasional rents, 
 through some of which might be caught glimpses of a dingy 
 white under-garment, while through another, a small end ol 
 the same vestment hung pendant, like a pocket-handkerchief. 
 A bell-crowned hat, dusty, faded and storm-worn, roofed an 
 odd-looking face, apparently set in a frame of uncombed 
 locks, and garnished with a black beard of several days 
 growth, so stiff and stubborn that a hedge-hog might have 
 envied it. 
 
 It was the employment of the man, as much as his appear 
 ance, which surprised Michael Rust ; for there, in the middle 
 of Rust s own office, with one foot on Rust s own chair, and 
 with Rust s blacking and brush, kept for his own special 
 
HARRY HARSON. 65 
 
 use, when either inclination or policy required an unusual 
 degree of neatness in his appearance, stood this man, clean 
 ing his boots with as much nonchalance as if he were owner 
 of the room, and the brushes, blacking, and chair were his 
 own appurtenances. On the same chair with his foot was a 
 large snuff-box, from which he from time to time refreshed 
 himself during the progress of his operations. 
 
 He did not observe Rust, as he came in; but kept on 
 snuffing, and rubbing, and muttering ; sometimes pausing and 
 laughing to himself, and winking at nobody, and shaking 
 his head, and favoring his trowsers with a dab from the 
 same brush with which he was polishing his boot, whenever 
 his eye rested on a spot which he thought would be benefited 
 by such an operation. Nor did he cease, until Rust touched 
 him on the arm, and said, in a peremptory manner : Hallo ! 
 Sir ! who are you ? and what are you doing here ? 
 
 Thunder ! man, how you made me jump ! exclaimed 
 the stranger, verifying his remark, by dropping his brush 
 and starting up. * When you are going to startle a man in 
 that way, just let him know beforehand, will you ? Suppose 
 my nerves had been weak ? or I had been in a delicate way ? 
 or any thing of that sort ? What might have been the con 
 sequence ? Think of that ! 
 
 Rust, in no wise mollified by the peculiar light in which 
 the stranger viewed his interruption, again demanded: 
 * What are you doing here ? 
 
 Can t you see? 1 replied the other, pointing to his boot; 
 that s what I m doing. 
 
 Ho ! ho ! exclaimed Rust, his usual sneer playing around 
 his thin lips, you mistook this room for a boot-black s shop, 
 did you ? It looks like one ; very like one, does n t it ? but 
 it is n t ; upon my word it is n t. Now, Sir, said he, * since 
 you have discovered your error, be good enough to go ; or I 
 
66 HARRY H ARSON. 
 
 may be obliged to do what I should be very sorry to do 
 very sorry put you out. 
 
 The stranger looked at him for a moment or two, as he 
 stood bowing and pointing to the door, with his lips curled 
 in anger and derision, and then suddenly thrusting his hand 
 in his pocket, and smirking and winking, he sidled up to 
 Rust : Come, come/ said he, * I know what you re at. 1 
 take. There. 1 Thrusting a sixpence in Rust s hand, he 
 favored him with a succession of sudden winks and shakes 
 of the head ; at the same time indulging a kind of inward 
 laugh. Say nothing more, said he ; we understand each 
 other. With this remark, he took a pinch of snuff from 
 his box, picked up the brush, and resumed his labors. 
 
 Rust was puzzled ; for his guest was evidently one of those 
 impracticable fellows who neither get angry themselves, nor 
 believe others when they are so. Had he been a little less 
 strongly built, he might have been thrust out by main force ; 
 but there was a squareness about his shoulders, indicative of 
 strength ; his hands too were large, and his wrists thick and 
 bony. So that Rust was fain to moderate his tone; and 
 going to him, he said : * Come, come, my good fellow, you d 
 better go. As he spoke, he placed his hand on his back, as 
 if to urge him toward the door. 
 
 No I had n t no I had n t, replied the other, again 
 turning and winking. Do n t be frightened ; I wo n t desert 
 you : never desert any body ; got plenty of friends never 
 desert any of em. Catch me at it ! would n t hurt their 
 feelings for the world. lie shut his eyes, and laughed 
 inwardly for more than a minute, at the bare thought of it. 
 
 Rust, seeing that his guest had determined to have his 
 own way, and thinking that it might be best to humor him, 
 took a seat, and looking at him, said : 
 
 Well, Sir, since you wo n t quit the room, perhaps you ll 
 fit least tell me who you are V 
 
HARRY HARSON. 67 
 
 * To be sure I will ; my name is Kornicker ; Edward 
 Kornicker ; K-O-R-N-I-C-K-E-R, replied the stranger, spelling 
 it. Ah ! I see, you do n t want that sixpence, continued he, 
 pointing to tlje coin which Rust had placed on the chair. 
 4 Well, if you re proud, others ain t ; that s all. Saying 
 which, he quietly deposited the piece in his vest-pocket. As 
 for the matter of my being in your office, I do n t see that it 
 is such a wonderful room, that you need be chary of it ; not 
 but what I am as good, if not better, than that fellow Gros- 
 ket, whom I met coming out of it last night. 
 
 Such had been the nature of the conversation between 
 Rust and Grosket, that even the bare mention of his name 
 caused him to start ; and scarcely knowing that he did so> 
 he went to the door and locked it. 
 
 1 Come, come, man ! exclaimed Kornicker, not altogether 
 pleased by this equivocal action, what are you at ? I 11 
 stand no nonsense. I m not frightened, Sir ; I m afraid of 
 no man ; and if you intend to practise any of your tricks on 
 me, I 11 cram this brush down your throat. Yes, I will ; 
 yes, I will. If I do n t 
 
 He concluded his remark by a pantomime, in which 
 flourishes of the brush, shakes of the head, and winks at 
 Rust, bore a prominent part. I hope you understand, 
 added he ; if you do n t, and want to come to extremities, 
 you 11 find your ideas polished in a way that will astonish 
 you ; let me tell you that. 
 
 Saying this, he threw himself in a defensive attitude, with 
 the brush grasped in one hand, and the fist of the other 
 clenched, as if ready to fulfil either of his menaces. Michael 
 Rust eyed him without any appearance of apprehension ; 
 and then, crossing his hands behind him, walked up and 
 down the room in deep thought ; coming in close proximity 
 to the article which Kornicker still held up, but withoui 
 any attempt to enforce his threat. At last he said : 
 
68 HARRY H ARSON. 
 
 1 Sit down ; I want to talk with you. 
 
 Kornicker, after looking at him for some time, and appa- 
 rently coming to the conclusion that he had no ulterior views 
 respecting himself, threw the brush on the floor, and having 
 seated himself, held his snuff-box in his hand, at the same 
 time looking at him to begin. 
 
 * So your name is Kornicker ? said Rust, for the purpose 
 of opening the conversation. * It s an odd name. 
 
 Kornicker gave a loud rap with the knuckle of his middle 
 finger on his box ; removed the cover ; took a pinch between 
 his thumb and finger, and leaning forward refreshed his nose 
 in a vociferous manner ; after which he said that he had 
 heard others make that same remark. 
 
 * You re a lawyer, I suppose ? said Mr. Rust. 
 Mr. Kornicker nodded. 
 
 Much to do ? inquired Mr. Rust. 
 
 Kornicker shook his head, and said ; * Not much ; every 
 body s gone to smash ; and I among the rest. It s the 
 fashion ; I always follow the fashion. 
 
 You have an office ? said Rust. 
 
 * Have I ? said Mr. Kornicker, in a tone of surprised in 
 quiry. If I have, I 11 be glad if you 11 find it, for / ca n t. 
 When you do, be good enough to send me the key, and the 
 number of the house. 
 
 Rust rose abruptly, and folding his hands behind him 
 again walked up and down the room, with his brows bent. 
 Indeed, so long did he continue this exercise, that Ko rnicker, 
 who had at first watched him, under a vague apprehension 
 that he either might have something to say relative to the 
 office just mentioned, or might be harboring a secret purpose 
 to commit a second assault upon him, came to the conclusion 
 that he cherished neither of these intentions, and lapsed into 
 a fit of profound abstraction, staring with eyes exceedingly 
 
HARRY HARSON. 69 
 
 wide open into the black grate, and apparently thinking of 
 nothing. 
 
 For ten or fifteen minutes at least, Michael Rust paced that 
 room ; at intervals pausing, and scanning from head to foot 
 his guest, who no longer noticed him ; dwelling with a look 
 of earnest and intense scrutiny upon his face, and then turn 
 ing off", and resuming his walk, only to pause at another 
 short interval, to resume his investigation of Mr. Kornicker s 
 countenance and person. During that short walk, he had 
 formed and was maturing a plan which in any other person 
 would have seemed strange indeed, but which was nothing 
 unusual in a man who frequently formed and carried out 
 purposes on the spur of the moment, and seemed to have an 
 almost intuitive knowledge of the character of those who 
 fell under his eye. 
 
 The rupture between Grosket and himself had taken place 
 at a most inauspicious moment for him ; for he had schemes 
 on foot in which a tool was needed, who had no eyes, nor 
 ears, nor conscience, except those of his employer, and who 
 had energy sufficient to carry out his purposes, whatever 
 they might be. All this Grosket had been ; but now that 
 all further connection between them was broken off, he knew 
 him too well to suppose for an instant that it would be 
 renewed. The recollection of the cause assigned by 
 Grosket for this step, and his parting threat, coupled 
 with the daring character of the man, occasionally crossed 
 Rust s mind like a dark shadow; but still he did not shrink 
 from carrying out his schemes, for he thought that Grosket 
 was too deeply implicated with him, to dare to betray him. 
 Long-cherished plans were not to be relinquished for a 
 single threat ; nor was he, who had hitherto been his slave, 
 to rise up and dictate to him what course to pursue. Rust s 
 thin lips worried nervously, and his eye flashed at the 
 
70 HARRY HARSON. 
 
 thought ; as it did so, it again rested on Kornicker ; and his 
 mind was made up to secure him, to supply as far as possible 
 the place of Grosket. It was true that he knew nothing 
 bout him, and what little he saw was not in his favor ; but 
 e appeared to be a thoughtless, thriftless fellow, out at the 
 elbows ; probably poor, and one who would snatch at any 
 opportunity of improving his condition. Moreover, he 
 seemed to lack that energy which would induce him to 
 resist his will. As. to his being a stranger, he muttered, 
 glancing about the room ; * or suppose him to be dishonest, 
 what then ? There is nothing to steal ; and he will be less 
 scrupulous in doing what I want. Perhaps I can make it 
 his interest to keep faith with me, and if so, what care I 
 though he play rascal with all the rest of the world ? I need 
 not trust until I ve tried him. Full of this purpose, he sat 
 down beside his visitor. 
 
 4 Mr. Kornicker, said he, in a friendly tone, * I m a plain 
 man, and will speak plainly what I have to say. Should it 
 not meet your views, you must not take it amiss. It s well 
 meant. 
 
 Mr. Kornicker made no other reply than the very inde 
 finite one of looking him very full in the face. 
 
 From your appearance, and from what you have just 
 said, continued Rust, * I am led to believe that times are not 
 as well with you as they have been. Now I have a proposal 
 to make. I want a person to attend to certain business of 
 mine ; a kind of agent. I think you might suit me. Will 
 you accept the situation ? There s the offer plump. 
 
 Do I know any thing about the business ? inquired 
 Kornicker, arousing himself, and looking very much in 
 earnest. 
 
 4 1 11 risk that, answered Rust. 
 
 1 What are tke terms? 
 
HARRY HARSON. 71 
 
 * Twenty dollars a month, and your meals ; but not lodg 
 ing, replied Rust, laconically. 
 
 Any objection to my sleeping here ? inquired Kornicker, 
 looking about the room. It s small, though. 
 
 4 None, replied Rust ; * but there s no bed, and no room 
 for one. 
 
 4 Leave that to me, said Mr. Kornicker. 4 I ve experience 
 in that line. Now, then, as to the other items. Where am 
 I to dine? 
 
 * There s a refectory in the basement of this house. You 
 can dine there. 
 
 * Good ! said Mr. Kornicker, taking a pinch of snuff. 
 * I suppose you would n t object to a friend or two dining 
 with me. 
 
 I would decidedly, replied Mr. Rust, in a peremptory 
 tone ; for he saw from the manner of his listener that he 
 could afford to be strict in the terms. 
 
 * Say one, one at long intervals, added Kornicker, seeing 
 Rust preparing to refuse; at very long intervals; little 
 eternities. 
 
 You must have none, replied Rust, bluntly. 
 
 Would a small boy, sitting on the opposite side of the 
 table, merely to be looked at, be open to the same objection ? 
 I hate a solitary dinner. I m gregarious in my habits and 
 feelings. 
 
 4 Mr. Kornicker, said Rust, abruptly, if you come into 
 my service, you must come on my terms, not on yours. 
 I ve made an offer ; accept or reject it, as you please. I 
 sha n t vary it. 
 
 Thunder ! man, how hot you are ! exclaimed Kornicker ; 
 4 well, a meal by one s self is a dull affair ; but nevertheless, 
 with wine, beer, and brandy-and-water, it may be tolerated. 
 
 4 Stop, said Rust, in the same peremptory tone, * these are 
 
72 HARRY H ARSON. 
 
 not in the agreement. Drink of all kinds, except water, I 
 do n t pay for. 
 
 < Oh ! come I that s too much ! I 11 not stand that ! 
 said Mr. Kornicker, indignantly. You re running you 
 pony too hard, my man. No drink, no bargain. 
 
 Be it so, replied Rust, rising. Then our agreement is 
 at an end. Good day, Sir. 
 
 Kornicker, however, did not stir; but after looking at 
 Rust for a few moments, in an irresolute manner, said in an 
 insinuating tone : 
 
 * Do n t you think we might compromise about the 
 drinks? They might be taken quite weak, and at long 
 intervals. It does n t look respectable to dine without call 
 ing for something. 
 
 One of his usual sneering replies was rising to Rust s lips ; 
 but he had an end to gain; so he checked himself, and 
 answered in a serious manner : * I am afraid, Mr. Kornicker, 
 from what I see, that you are too much in this very habit o* 
 calling for wine ; and I am too much your friend, to aid you 
 in injuring yourself. Therefore I must persist in my refusal. 
 
 * Then I am to understand, said Mr. Kornicker, in a slow, 
 deliberate voice, that friends in every variety, including 9 
 small boy, and drinks of all kinds, excepting miserable, 
 meagre, undiluted water, are all prohibited ? I suppose, said 
 he, with a wo-begone attempt at a smile, I may put a littU 
 salt in it, to destroy its unpleasant freshness ? 
 
 Oh ! yes, replied Mr. Rust, with a sneer, * or even add 
 mustard. 
 
 How is it about snuff ? asked Kornicker, abruptly ; 
 I must have snuff. 
 
 * I 11 supply you with that, said Rust. 
 
 Well, there s a comfort in that. I agree to the terms. 
 And now, Sir, said he, with more energy than he had 
 hitherto shown, what am I to do ? 
 
HARRY HARSON 73 
 
 You are to stay here when I am absent. If any one calls, 
 you are to hear what he has to say, though you 11 be seldom 
 troubled in that way. As you re a lawyer, I may also want 
 your services in a professional way. In short, you are to do 
 whatever I ask, without hesitation and without question. 
 
 * The saving clause to that contract is very comprehensive/ 
 said Mr. Kornicker ; but, thought he, * if he comes it over 
 me too strong, I 11 bolt. Let him sue me for a breach of 
 contract. The idea of such a step presented itself to Mr, 
 Kornicker s mind in such a ludicrous light, that he laughed 
 and winked and shook his head, until the tears fairly ran 
 down his cheeks. After recovering from this paroxysm, he 
 again expressed his determination to accept the terms. 
 
 Very well, said Rust ; * I m going out now, and may not 
 return to-day ; perhaps not for a week, nor a month. You 
 must be here every day, from nine in the morning until 
 seven in the evening. Whenever I come, you must be found 
 here. 
 
 Very well, said Mr. Kornicker ; I understand. You 11 
 not forget to speak to the man in the refectory. The contract 
 dates from now. 
 
 * I 11 stop as I go out, said Rust. 
 And the twenty dollars ? 
 
 * Shall be forthcoming at the end of the month, replied 
 Rust. If I am not here, the money will come in a letter 
 on the very day. 
 
 ( There s no objection to my making a fire, I suppose ? 
 said Mr. Kornicker, pointing to the grate, which was filled 
 with all the necessary materials, and required merely the 
 application of a match to ignite them. * Must be kept warm ; 
 must be ; that s part of the contract. 
 
 * Make what fire you please, said Rust, as he was turning 
 to go. * You 11 find coal in the vault. 
 
 4 
 
14 HARRY H ARSON. 
 
 1 You re quite certain we can t arrange our little differ 
 ences about the trimmings to the dinners, and the friends ? 
 
 Quite? said Rust, abruptly ; and shutting the door, he 
 went out. 
 
 A queer dog, said Kornicker, shaking his head; but 
 small about the liquor ; damned small ! But let s look to 
 the fire ; there s nothing here to help one. Perhaps there 
 is, next door. Taking up the candlestick, and going into a 
 neighboring office, which he was fortunate enough to find 
 open, he obtained a light, and with its assistance soon had a 
 bright fire blazing in the grate, and seated himself in front 
 of it. 
 
 Probably few persons could contemplate any object for a 
 greater length of time without knowing it, or caring about 
 it, or thinking about it, or any thing else in particular, than 
 Mr. Edward Kornicker, provided he was warm. And this 
 being the case at present, he sat with his hands in his pockets, 
 his legs straight in front of him, his feet resting on the ash- 
 pan under the grate, and his eyes fixed upon his own boots 
 with a desperately wide-awake stare, but utterly unconscious 
 of every thing about him, except that he was snug and com 
 fortable. This state he occasionally diversified by a short 
 nap, which he enjoyed without any change of position or 
 variation of any kind, except that of closing his eyes. 
 Awaking from one of these slight interludes, he sat up, 
 rubbed his eyes, and looked about the room, then at the 
 fire, and relapsed into a profound reverie. 
 
 Not a single gentleman of my acquaintance excepted, 
 soliloquized he, thoughtfully; liquors prohibited, even an 
 embargo laid on beer. Food, plain, vulgar food alone, at 
 discretion. Well, the eating-house is near the door, said 
 he, looking about him ; there s a comfort in that. The 
 bane and antidote cheek by jowl ; very handy. Even a call 
 
HARRY HARSON 75 
 
 from the window would bring a boy from the refectory. 
 Let s try, for the fun of it. 
 
 By way of making the experiment, Mr. Kornicker raised 
 the sash, and thrusting his head out of the window, called 
 n a loud voice, * Hallo ! 
 
 His call was answered from every part of the building ; 
 and with particular emphasis from the region of the des 
 peradoes. 
 
 A wonderful spot for echoes, said he, meditatively. I 
 should think there were twenty at least. There s plenty of 
 angles; perhaps that makes 4 em; or perhaps the stove-pipes 
 or chimneys ; there s plenty of them, too ; or the windows, 
 or 
 
 His farther investigation of the cause was interrupted by 
 the head of a boy, which was thrust from a window on the 
 ground-floor, with the face turned upward. 
 
 Are you the refectory boy ? inquired Mr. Kornicker, 
 looking down in turn. 
 
 The head nodded. 
 
 Very well, come up here ; I want you. 
 
 The head nodded again, and was withdrawn ; an example 
 which Mr. Kornicker immediately followed. Scarcely had 
 he resumed his seat at the fire, when there was a knock at the 
 door. * Come in, said he ; and without even turning to look 
 at the door, as it opened, he said : 
 
 * You re the boy I saw just now, are you ? 
 
 The boy nodded ; a gesture which his questioner took for 
 granted, as he did not even look round. 
 
 And you belong to that eating-house below, do you ? 
 
 Again the boy nodded ; which reply, as before, was taken 
 for granted. 
 
 4 Well, my little fellow, said Mr. Kornicker, now turning, 
 * did any gentleman call in there to-day, and say any thing 
 
76 HARRY EARS ON. 
 
 about paying the score of any other gentleman, whenever 
 he chose to stop there, or call for any thing, or some trifle ol 
 that sort ? 
 
 Again the boy nodded, and said : Oh ! yes ; the gentle 
 man, Mr. Rust, said he, pointing to the name on the door ; 
 4 and he said, whenever a man named Kornicker, that s you, 
 I suppose, said he, with an inquiring nod. 
 
 1 Yes, that s me ; well ? 
 
 Well, whenever you came, you was to have just what 
 you wanted, except liquors or ales ; wittles, whenever you 
 liked ; and he would pay the shot. That s what he said. 
 
 You re sure it was n t the dinner that was restricted, and 
 the liquor and ale at discretion ? 
 
 Very sure, said the boy ; * he was very partikler ; and 
 he said too, it was only meals for one ; no friends. 
 
 * I know it, replied Kornicker, with a melancholy shake 
 of the head ; I know it. It was n t considerate nor delicate ; 
 but I suppose it s his way ; and I suppose another one ot 
 them is to let nobody have his way but himself. Well, 
 well ! Did he say any thing about the cooking ? 
 
 The boy shook his head. 
 
 Very well ; go down and order me a beef-steak stewed 
 in wine ; plenty of the wine. I 11 be down presently. 
 That s all. Make the sauce strong ; do n t forget that? 
 
 The boy nodded, showed his teeth, and closing the door, 
 clattered down the stairs. 
 
 Wine diluted with steak is a miserable beverage, very 
 miserable ; but it s better than nothing, said Kornicker, 
 resuming his seat at the fire. I wonder who this Rust is ; 
 what he does, and what he wants of me ? Well, I suppose 
 he 11 let me know some day. He s a strange fellow ; twenty 
 dollars, fire and meals ; and all for sitting in front of a fire, 
 with nothing to do but look at one s toes, and put on coal ; 
 
HARRY H ARSON. 77 
 
 but lie was small about the wine and friends, decidedly small. 
 Snuff however, ad libitum ; that s something. 1 This having 
 called to his recollection that he had a supply of that article 
 about his person, he drew out his snuff-box, and proceeded 
 to extract from it sundry small pinches, which he deposited 
 in various parts of the office ; this being one of his peculiar 
 modes of distributing his stock of that article, so that he 
 might always find it wherever he went, without the trouble 
 of drawing out his box. This employment he continued, 
 until it struck him that the order which he had sent to the 
 eating-house must be executed ; and he accordingly locked 
 the office, and went out for the purpose of ascertaining the 
 fact. 
 
HARRY H ARSON. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 LEAVING Mr. Kornicker in possession of his office, and 
 having kept his promise of making an arrangement for the 
 regular supply of that gentleman s meals, subject to the 
 restrictions before mentioned, Michael Rust bent his steps 
 toward the upper part of the city. 
 
 It might have been a knowledge of the great intrinsic 
 worth of the individual whose services he had just secured ; 
 or it might have been a feeling of relief at having all ties 
 dissolved between himself and his formidable tool, Grosket ; 
 or it might have been even the insignificant circumstance of 
 his having driven a close bargain respecting the aforesaid 
 supply of Mr. Kornicker s meals ; or of his having facetiously 
 boxed the ears of a small beggar who had ventured to in 
 sinuate to him that his funds were low, and that a donation 
 of a few coppers would not come amiss ; or it might have 
 been some other equally trifling and unimportant occurrence 
 which shed such a glow over his pleasant countenance, and 
 caused his step to become so firm and elastic and his pace 
 so rapid. But something there certainly was ; for on he 
 went, at a fast walk, smiling to himself, and looking neither 
 to the right nor left, until he found himself in front of a 
 house in the eastern part of the city, with a green door, 
 which boasted two narrow side-lights, and a huge knocker, 
 like a countenance garnished with a pair of small eyes and 
 a stout nose. A small tin sign reminded the public at large, 
 in gilt letters, that persons boarded there cheap, while a slip 
 of paper stuck beneath, as a kind of codicil to the sign, men- 
 
HARRY HARSON. 79 
 
 tioned what the sign had left untold ; namely, that there 
 was an unfurnished room on the second floor in the rear, in 
 which two single gentlemen, or a double one, in the form of a 
 man and his other half, would find themselves quite comfort 
 able. Without pausing to notice these trifles, Rust rubbed 
 his feet across a small heap of mud, the nucleus of which 
 was an undersized mat, which lay in front of the door, and 
 applying his hand to the knocker, succeeded in calling to the 
 door a red-faced girl, with her hair hanging over her face, 
 and her shoes down at the heel. 
 
 Without speaking, Rust pushed past her and ascended 
 to a small front room in the second story. It was a dark, 
 dreary room, partly owing to its being in a narrow street, 
 and to the windows being small, and partly owing to the 
 fact that they had been for a long time on very distant terms 
 with water of all kinds, except the occasional drops which 
 had settled there in a shower. Rust, however, was too 
 much accustomed to every thing about him, to notice its 
 defects ; and without bestowing a thought upon them, he 
 proceeded to disrobe himself. He flung his hat upon the 
 bed ; his cloak followed ; and untying his handkerchief, he 
 shook his black locks in disorder about his face. 
 
 Slight as the alteration in his dress was 2 it produced a 
 great change in his looks ; removing its character of sharp 
 ness and cunning, and giving it one of bold and reckless 
 ferocity. He then removed his other garments, and substi 
 tuted in their place those of a newer and more fashionable 
 appearance; and having completed his toilet to his own 
 satisfaction, he surveyed himself in the glass. 
 
 That will do, muttered he ; even my own dear affec 
 tionate mother, whom I never saw, but who doubtless was a 
 very decent, well-behaved woman in her way, would not 
 know me. Ha ! ha ! I scarcely know myself. I shall be 
 
80 HARRY H ARSON. 
 
 obliged to hang a label on my neck, for fear I should forget 
 who I am. This is all as it should be. Let each of those 
 with whom I have to deal, if need be, describe the Michael 
 Rust who crossed his path. There are wheels within wheels, 
 each apparently having its own aim; all disconnected, yet 
 all leading to the same result ; and There is a Michael Rust 
 setting each in motion. But each Michael Rust is different. 
 And that, that, 1 added he, pointing in the glass, is the man, 
 who has his cards to play with one Jacob Rhoneland and his 
 bright-eyed daughter, and the lout who hangs about her, 
 like a moth around a candle ; but I ll singe his wings ! God ! 
 said he, with a sudden, fierce burst of bitter wrath, I 11 
 crush him, though I die ! There are others too, said he, 
 almost immediately recovering his calmness, * there are others 
 too. I must watch ; nothing must escape me. I must not 
 fail. I will not ! I will not ! And they, the blind fools ! 
 shall find it out some day to their cost. How I can wheedle 
 them, and talk to them of love, generosity, friendship, fine 
 feelings ! Ha ! ha ! What glorious sounds these are for men 
 to truckle to; ay, for men; strong-minded, far-sighted, clear 
 headed men. Yes, I ve seen them yield their free-will, sacri 
 fice themselves and their fortunes for a mere empty whim, 
 and call it generosity ; the fools, the slaves, the bondmen ; 
 ay, of a worse bondage than that of shackled limbs that 
 of a fettered mind. Well, continued he, in the same musing 
 tone, and standing with folded arms and with his eyes bent 
 on the floor, it s human nature, and it s convenient for me. 
 I know them ; one, two, three, four ; all slaves ; each wedded 
 to his own particular folly. Rhoneland, one ; gold is his god. 
 Somers, two ; he bows to bright eyes, pouting lips, and a 
 snowy bosom ; forgetting that old age, sickness, and the 
 earth-worm prey on the same food. Grosket Enoch Gros- 
 ket of all fools the greatest! I bought him bought 
 
HARRY H ARSON. 81 
 
 him, paid down the gold, to make a tool of him merely 
 to make a tool of him ; I had but to whisper in his ear of 
 gratitude, and he swallowed the bait ; and I have led him 
 at will for five long years. But he s gone now, and has 
 grown dangerous, and must be looked to. There s one more, 
 muttered he, passing his hand thoughtfully across his brow ; 
 clear-headed, with an eye that sees through trickery, and 
 almost lifts the veil from a man s heart. Him I fear the most. 
 With him I have the deepest game to play, and one in which 
 detection is ruin. He trusts me now fully implicitly 
 should he left the veil all is lost. 
 
 Drawing a chair to the fire, Rust seated himself, remain 
 ing for a long time in deep abstraction ; and during that 
 interval a change seemed to have come over the current of 
 his thoughts ; for he said, speaking in the same low, broken, 
 abrupt manner which he had used before : 
 
 So the cub s jealous ! How he watches me when I 
 trifle with the girl ; clenching his big fists, and twisting his 
 fingers one in the other ; his eyes flashing and his cheek 
 reddening. But for one thing, which he knows, and which 
 / know, he would fall on me and crush every bone in my 
 body. Bah ! but I have him. He may writhe, and wince, 
 and threaten ; but that s his limit. Could I drive him 
 
 beyond that could I but drive him beyond that ! 
 
 But, said he, suddenly starting up, the day is waning, and 
 there is work yet to be done. 
 
 He went to a closet, and took from it a hat and great 
 coat ; after which he rang the bell. It was answered by the 
 same slip-shod girl who had admitted him from the street. 
 
 Has Mr. Grosket, or any one else, been here for me ? 
 inquired he. 
 
 Not Mr. Grosket, replied the girl. 
 
 Any one else ? \ 
 
 4* 
 
82 HARRY H ARSON. 
 
 A strange man came here to-day, said the girl, hesitating; 
 a a 
 
 * Gentleman ? 
 
 The girl shook her head. 
 
 What did he look like? A mechanic? a laborer? a 
 beggar ? or what ? inquired Rust, impatiently. 
 
 A ruffen, Sir ; a downright ruffen, replied the girl, with 
 a discrimination of character which perhaps her situation as 
 maid-of-all-work at a public lodging-house had sharpened to 
 a high degree of nicety. One of the sort of people who 
 sometimes come here of dark nights, you know ; who do n t 
 like to be seen in the day-time one of them; and she 
 nodded to Rust, in a significant manner, intimating that 
 although her language might not be accurate, still her mean 
 ing was sufficiently clear. 
 
 Rust looked her full in the face, without making any 
 remark upon her comment on the character of his visitor, 
 and apparently without even noticing it. Then he asked : 
 
 Did he leave his name ? 
 
 Again the girl shook her head. 
 
 Nor his business ? 
 
 He said as he went off, that he was sorry you were away ; 
 and that if you knew all he did, you d be the most sorry of 
 the two. He said he need n t call again ; for you d find it 
 out what he had to tell soon enough for all the fun it would 
 give you; and then he laughed to himself, and went off. 
 That s all, said the girl, after a pause. 
 
 Rust evinced no appearance of surprise nor uneasiness at 
 this communication, but merely asked : 
 
 Any one else ? 
 
 No one. 
 
 Veiy well ; you can go. 
 
 The door closed on the girl, but Rust remained standing, 
 
HARRY U ARSON. 83 
 
 * More trouble ? Well, well ; let it come. I have that here] 
 said he, pressing his fingers on his forehead, that laughs at 
 it. I may be crushed; and there are those things doing 
 now in which failure and perdition to me go hand in hand ; 
 but I 11 never bend ! And now Kate, bright, laughing Kate 
 Rhoneland, you and I must meet, and then we 11 see what 
 will come of it ! 
 
 Shutting the door, he slowly descended the stairs and 
 went into the street. His destination was the abode of 
 Jacob Rhoneland. It was a long way off, yet the time flew 
 by so rapidly to the scheming man, that scarce a moment 
 seemed to have elapsed before he found himself in front of 
 the old man s dwelling. 
 
 Michael Rust was a man who did not trouble himself with 
 useless ceremony, particularly where it might interfere with 
 his ends ; and as he deemed it not unlikely that a knock at 
 the door might result in a denial of admittance, when it was 
 discovered that he was the visitor, he prudently determined 
 to dispense with so useless a ceremony ; and so quietly ad 
 mitted himself into the house, and went to the room usually 
 occupied by Rhoneland. Finding no one there, he proceeded 
 to the adjoining one, where he discovered Kate Rhoneland 
 engaged in sewing. 
 
 * Father is not at home, said she, anticipating the question 
 which he was preparing to ask. 
 
 Perhaps not, perhaps not, said he, entering the room 
 without the slightest hesitation, and placing his hat on the 
 floor ; but you are, Kate, and I m not sorry for it. Ah ! 
 said he, drawing a chair near her, and taking a seat, it does 
 one good to see you, and to talk with you, when the old man 
 is away. Ha ! little Kate, how he watches you ! He knows 
 that you are his golden apple, and that this room is quite a 
 garden of the Hesperides when you are in it. It only 
 
84 HARRY H ARSON. 
 
 wants the old ma_ just now, to play the part )f dragon, to 
 complete the simile. By the way, said he, du ting his boots 
 with his handkerchief, there are two dragons here ; an old 
 one and a cub-dragon ; Somers, I think you call him. 
 
 There were moments and themes which could bring the 
 fire into Kate Rhoneland s eyes, and the red blood of anger 
 into her face ; and this was one of them. The free and 
 familiar air of her visitor, coupled with her dislike of him, 
 and with the slighting manner in which he spoke of her 
 father and of Somers, had brought to her lips a retort which 
 might have proved unacceptable to him, callous as he was. 
 But at the same moment came the recollection of the almost 
 constant injunction of her father, that she should be careful 
 not to offend him. Do n t break with him, Kate ; do n t 
 incense him, or he 11 ruin me, were the words which were 
 for ever ringing in her ears, and which now restrained her ; 
 but rising she said : You must excuse * the apple just now, 
 Mr. Rust, as she has to see that the garden is kept in proper 
 order. 
 
 Michael Rust rose and bowed, laying his hand upon his 
 heart, with an air of profound reverence, as he said : * Cer 
 tainly, my pretty Kate ; who can refuse any thing to Kate 
 Rhoneland ? Surely, not Michael Rust. I shall be miserably 
 dull without you; miserably dull. Bah ! go, you silly jade ! 
 said he, as the door closed. Ah ! here comes the cub-dragon. 
 I 11 make the most of him, until the old one comes in. 
 
 The concluding remark was caused by the opening of 
 another door, and the entrance of Ned Somers. 
 
 * Mr. Rhoneland s not here, I see, said he, looking around. 
 
 No, he s not, replied Rust; but sit down, Ned, sit down, 
 said he, in a tone whose civility was blended with no much 
 sarcasm, that Somers found it a matter of no small difficulty 
 to restrain himself from knocking him down on the spot. 
 
HARRY H ARSON. 85 
 
 * Why do n t you sit down, my dear young friend ? Chairs 
 are plenty ; and as you have just driven the sweetest little 
 girl in the world from this room by your inopportune arrival, 
 there is another one to spare. It was cruel of you to drop 
 in as you did, and interrupt one of the most cosy and 
 endearing chats I ever had. She s a tempting little witch, 
 Ned ; ah ! she s a darling ! I shall wake up yet some day and 
 find myself married ; I m sure I shall, if I come here often. 
 
 Ned Somers, who had taken a seat, grew exceedingly red, 
 and moved uneasily in his chair, and for a moment his eyes 
 flashed ; but he observed the look of- triumphant malice 
 which stole from beneath the half-closed lids of the other ; 
 and the slight, sneering smile that played around the corner 
 of his mouth ; and he recollected the noble singleness of 
 heart of Kate Rhoneland, and he felt that the insinuations 
 of Rust were false. 
 
 With the intuitive sagacity which was a striking feature 
 of his character, Rust saw that there was some process of 
 thought going on in the mind of Somers, that was allaying 
 the angry feelings which he was anxious to excite ; and as it 
 was a part of a plan that he had formed to drive him if 
 possible to an assault upon himself, he kept on in the same 
 sneering manner : 
 
 Mrs. Rust ; Mrs. Michael Rust ! The name sounds well ; 
 and for her I might hazard the experiment. 
 
 Why did you never hazard it before ? You are getting 
 gra} -. But perhaps you have, and think it dangerous, said 
 Somers, quietly. 
 
 The remark was merely a casual one on the part of 
 Somers, and intended to divert Rust -from his present theme ; 
 but its effect was electrical. He had taken a seat, and he 
 now sprang up ; his eyes flashing, his lips quivering and 
 livid with rage, and his black hair fairly stiff with fury. 
 
86 HARRY HA R SON. 
 
 1 D n ! d n you ! shrieked lie, shaking both fists in 
 
 the face of Somers ; what do you mean ? If you have 
 
 But no ; no ! 
 
 With a suddenness almost equal to that with which his 
 anger came on, it passed off, and he said in a voice strangely 
 calmed : 
 
 * You do n t know Kate as I do. I was afraid that you 
 had whispered odd stories in her ear; but she wouldn t 
 listen to them if you did. She must love me, or she would 
 not lavish on me all those little endearments which she does, 
 and which find their way to the heart, and which it is im 
 possible to describe ; and if she loves me, she won t believe 
 you, Ned. But you won t betray what I am telling you, 
 of our trifling love-passages ? Kate would die of confusion if 
 she knew that I had even whispered of them. Come, come/ 
 said he, taking Somers by the hand, promise, will you ? It 
 is so unusual a thing for a young girl like her to doat as she 
 does upon a man so much older than herself as I am, that it 
 has made me quite vain and silly ; but you will not betray 
 our mutual weaknesses, Ned, will you ? 
 
 Although this was spoken in a low, soft tone, there was 
 something in the look which accompanied it, and in the 
 evident intention of the speaker to gall and irritate, which 
 had nearly made it successful ; and for a moment Somers 
 wavered ; but it was only for a moment ; for the next instant 
 the whole scene and the manner of Rust struck him as 
 irresistibly ludicrous, and he burst out into a hearty laugh : 
 
 * No, no, Rust, said he, I 11 betray nothing ; you re wel 
 come to your love-passages. But I must go. I came here 
 to see the old man ; and as he s not at home, I must seek 
 him ; for what I have to say will not brook delay. 
 
 As he went out, he turned and said : * Try it again, Rust, 
 now that the coast is clear. Go it strong on the love-pas- 
 
HARRY EARS ON. 87 
 
 sages, not forgetting the * little endearments. She s a 
 tempting morsel for an old man. Good bye, Michael ; good 
 bye ! And with another merry laugh, he shut the door. 
 
 * Foiled ! exclaimed Rust, and by a boy ! But where 
 could he have picked up that ? Was it accident, or did he 
 dream it ? Or could he have learned that sad secret from 
 the only one who knew it ? Well, well ; there s misery in 
 it, but that s all. He and this girl are in league, said he, 
 abruptly, but the old man is mine; and through him I ll 
 bend her, and crush his stubborn heart. How I long to 
 have it under my feet, that I may grind it to the dirt ! But 
 the game s up for to-day, and I 11 go. 
 
88 HARRY II ARSON. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 MR. SNORK was sitting in front of a smouldering fire in 
 his attic, (for unlike his friend Mrs. Blossom, he was aspiring 
 in his ideas, and preferred a garret to a cellar,) with his head 
 bound up in a faded cotton handkerchief, a short pipe in his 
 mouth, and a beard of a week s growth ornamenting the 
 lower part of his face. Although it was late in the day, the 
 disordered state of his attire showed that he had but recently 
 quitted his bed ; or at all events, that he had not yet made 
 his morning toilet. He was in a moralizing mood too ; for 
 he sat in silence, looking at the loose strings in his shoes, and 
 occasionally scratching his head through the handkerchief 
 just mentioned. It was evident that he was at that moment 
 laboring under great absence of mind ; for although his pipe 
 was unlighted, he puffed at it assiduously, occasionally with 
 drawing it from his mouth to permit an imaginary cloud of 
 smoke to escape. 
 
 On the opposite side of the fire-place sat Mrs. Snork, a fat, 
 redfaced woman, her head surmounted by a dirty cap, bediz 
 ened with red and yellow ribands, from beneath which 
 straggled a few locks of deep red hair. Her eyes were of a 
 bright aqua-marine color, and her nose doubtless had once been 
 well formed, although that fact could then only be ascertained 
 from tradition, from the circumstance of its having been 
 crushed in, flat to her face. Her teeth were white and strong, 
 with the exception of the two front ones, which were missing, 
 probably having retired at the same time that her nosa 
 changed its condition. 
 
HARRY HA R S N. 89 
 
 Mrs. Snork evidently was participating in the feeling of 
 gloom and perplexity which weighed so heavily upon the 
 spirits of her husband ; for she too was silent, biting her 
 lips and occasionally her nails, with an expression of mingled 
 vexation and anxiety. 
 
 Mr. Snork at intervals raised his eyes to her face, with an 
 air of investigation and deference ; as if desirous of arriving 
 at the result of her deliberations before venturing to express 
 his own. At length, by way of sounding her, he exhaled a 
 long sigh, and muttered with deep emphasis : 
 
 Our sickliest child ! Had it a been the hump-back, or 
 the infant with a scald-head, I could ha borne it ; but for it 
 to be this one, this identical one, the sickliest of them all, is 
 dreadful aggravating to the feelings. It had got through 
 the mumps, and the measles, and the hooping-cough, and its 
 double-teeth 
 
 And the small-pox, added Mrs. Snork, parenthetically. 
 
 And was n t subject to hives, nor fits ; and yet was so 
 very sickly, without our being afraid of its dying. It was 
 an uncommon tough child, it was. It was as tough as 
 as as 
 
 Jonah, suggested the lady. 
 Was he tough ? asked Mr. Snork ; very tough ? 
 
 To be sure he was, replied his wife. Did n t a whale 
 try three whole days to digest him, and could n t ? 
 
 As Jonah, resumed Mr. Snork ; and such a stomach ! My 
 eyes ! what a stomach ! I Ve heerd of ostrich s stomachs, but 
 if one of them ere animals, with the tallest kind of a stomach, 
 had come across that child, he would have died of sheer 
 spite. He could n t have held a candle to her. Why, she 
 could do just what she pleased with it. She could be sick 
 at it whenever she liked. Ten times in one arternoon I Ve 
 known her to be. She was worth two dollars a day, at the 
 
90 HARRY H ARSON. 
 
 very least; and now she s gone; gone, never to return. 
 Cuss that House of Refuge ! How it walks into the best 
 affections of one s natur ! 
 
 So affected was Mr. Snork by the mournful reflections 
 which crowded his mind, that after several hard gulps, he 
 dashed the back of his hand across his eyes ; and applying 
 a lighted coal to the bowl of his pipe, smoked for five minutes, 
 in a state of profound taciturnity. 
 
 Why, that child resumed he, after a pause. 
 
 * We ve had enough of that there, interrupted Mrs. Snork, 
 who being of a more energetic nature than her husband, 
 deemed it unnecessary to waste farther time in lamentation, 
 wisely judging that all additional indulgence of that kind 
 would probably be only lacerating to their feelings, without 
 having any beneficial effect upon the obnoxious sanctuary 
 before mentioned. * She s gone, and she wo n t come back ; 
 and there s an end of it. 
 
 This, probably, would not have been the end of it, had 
 not the lady decided that it should be ; but that settled the 
 question ; and Mr. Snork, finding that farther discussion on 
 that subject would not be admissible, placed his pipe in his 
 mouth and smoked in silence, waiting for some indication 
 from his better half as to the turn which she wished the 
 conversation to take. 
 
 1 You said Mrs. Blossom had two new ones ? said Mrs. 
 Snork, after a pause, casting an inquiring eye upon her hus 
 band, and at the same time drawing her chair near the fire. 
 
 Such ones ! ejaculated the man, removing his pipe, only 
 sufficiently to make room for the words to escape, and 
 instantly replacing it. 
 
 A boy and girl ? inquired the woman. 
 
 Snork nodded. 
 
 Who are they ? Where did they com-- from ? 
 
HARRY HARSON. 91 
 
 In reply to this, the man merely shrugged his shoulders, 
 with a very slight shake of the head, indicating profound 
 ignorance. 
 
 The woman looked at him for some moments with extreme 
 dissatisfaction either at his limited information or at his hav 
 ing made no greater efforts to increase it ; but before she 
 had time to give vent to this feeling in any other manner, a 
 step was heard on the stairs. Snork rose, glanced at the 
 door with a quick suspicious look, and then round the room, 
 as if fearful that something might be seen there which he 
 did not wish to submit to general inspection. 
 
 It s bolted and barred, muttered he, in reply to a look ol 
 his wife. Even if it was n t, what then ? said he, looking 
 about him. * It s a very respectable kind of a room, very. 
 Having arrived at this conclusion, he went to the door, 
 removed the bar, and drew back the bolt, just as a knock 
 was heard from without. 
 
 Come in, said Mrs. Snork, seating herself in such a posi 
 tion as to convey the idea that she had not changed her 
 position for the last half hour, at the very least, while Mr. 
 Snork merely opened the door ajar, and reconnoitered their 
 visitor through the crack. * Pshaw ! said he, flinging it 
 wide open, it s only Mrs. Blossom. 
 
 With this somewhat disparaging observation, Snork 
 turned on his heel, and leaving his visitor to enter and shut 
 the door after her, walked to the fire-place, in front of which 
 he seated himself, without condescending to make any farther 
 observation. Nor was it until then that he observed the 
 expression of quiet self-complacency which usually marked 
 the countenance of his guest, had been displaced by one ot 
 anxiety and alarm. 
 
 How now, old woman ? exclaimed he, as this discovery 
 forced itself upon him. Who s dead, or murdered ? Has 
 the cripple run away, or the dumb boy informed agin you ? 
 
92 HARRY H ARSON. 
 
 or is the North River a-fire, or what ? Out with it ! Cuss 
 me ! but I do believe she is going to faint ! Mrs. S., just 
 hand out that brandy, will you ? 
 
 The woman thus addressed, apparently sympathizing with 
 the unknown trouble of her visitor, and perhaps not a little 
 actuated by a feeling of curiosity to know more, hastened to 
 fill a small cup with the liquor, and to place it to the lips of 
 Mrs. Blossom, who, notwithstanding her appearance of 
 exhaustion, drained it off without remark, and wiped her 
 lips with the back of her hand, with evident satisfaction. 
 
 Now then, you feel better, do n t you ? said Mr. Snork, 
 whose awe of his wife seemed to wear off in company. 
 * What s the muss ? Let s have it. 
 
 Mrs. Blossom, after several unsuccessful attempts at find 
 ing her voice, apparently discovered it in the lower part of 
 her stomach, and exclaimed in a sepulchral tone, which 
 seemed to emanate from that region : 
 
 It s all up, Mr. Snork! all up! The police has been 
 down on us, and four of the lambs is took. 
 
 Hallo ! shouted Mr. Snork, in the intensity of his earn 
 estness, turning round, and for the first time facing Mrs. 
 Blossom. How now ! four on em took ? 
 
 Mrs. Blossom shook her head in a mournful manner as 
 she replied : Four on em ; among em was the infant with 
 sore eyes, what I nussed as if it had been my own child ; 
 and little Bill, too ; the cream, the very cream of my set ! 
 Sick a set as they was ! New- York had n t its match for 
 trainin . Little Bill, when he went out this blessed morning, 
 said he knowed something was a-coming over him. It might 
 be a colic, he said, or something else he did not know 
 what ; but he knowed it was something ; he had a presenti 
 ment of it, a sort of sinking of the stomach ; and now, here s 
 the end of it. 
 
HARRY H ARSON 93 
 
 Little Bill took too ! said Mr. Snork, with much interest. 
 Who d have thought it ? and he such a wide-awake un ! 
 But out with it, Mrs. Blossom ; let s hear how it was. 
 
 Well, said the > woman, looking cautiously about the 
 room, rather from a habit of suspicion acquired by living in 
 the constant perpetration of acts which brought her within 
 the reach of the law, than from any apprehension of imme 
 diate danger : it was all about the boy and girl you saw at 
 my place, said she, nodding to Mr. Snork, by way of calling 
 his attention to that fact. * The girl gave me the slip two 
 days ago, and I never heerd on her till this mornin , when 
 Bill Smith, the beak what I keeps in pay to let me know 
 what s in the wind, run in to tell me that there was a com 
 plaint agin me at the police office, and a warrant gettin out 
 arter me, and that I d better run for it, or I d be nabbed. 
 Before he got through, I seed em a comin ; and I sloped 
 out of the back winder, and got off; while he stayed there 
 to lead them off the scent ; but they caught three or four of 
 the babies, what happened to drop in just then ; and I s pose 
 they re booked for the House of Refuge. That there place 
 will be the ruin on us ! 
 
 Here the lady paused and shook her head, in a disconsolate 
 manner, but being invited by Mr. Snork to take another 
 pull at the bottle, which stood in full view, and having 
 accepted his invitation ; and having, by dint of such pulling, 
 contrived to swallow about a gill of its contents ; and being 
 thereby not a little refreshed, she said that she felt much 
 better, and was glad to have sich friends as the Snorks. She 
 had always said they were above the ordinary run of friends, 
 and so they were. As for herself, she was bu st up ; out 
 and out a bu sted woman ; but she hoped they never would 
 be so she did. She was in earnest in what she said, 
 although perhaps they might not think it but she was. 
 
94 HARRY HARSON. 
 
 * Well, well, go on, said Snork, who seemed to take more 
 interest in the detail of her escape than in her praise of 
 himself; well, you cut and run. What then What came 
 of the boy ? the one I saw ? Did they claw him too ? 
 
 Mrs. Blossom placed her fore-finger on the end of her 
 nose, and pressing that feature very flat to her face, and 
 winking, said, with a low chuckling laugh : 
 
 Did they, though ? There s more in that boy than you 
 think for. I d sooner lose my whole set than him. It was 
 him that they were arter ; but he was off, long ago. My 
 eyes ! Did they think when the gal was gone that I d be 
 fool enough to keep him where they could reach him ? Did 
 they think that ? Did n t I know that they d move heaven 
 and airth to get him ? He ! he ! he ! Let em look let em 
 look ; and let em have all they find of him. They re wel 
 come to it. 
 
 * So you hid him, then ? inquired Snork, drawing from 
 his pocket an iron tobacco-box, from which he took a large 
 piece of tobacco, which he deposited in his mouth. After 
 this he shut the box, with a loud click, and restored it to its 
 former place in his pocket. 
 
 Never you mind what I did with him, replied Mrs. Blos 
 som, with a leer at the man ; that s- my affair. He s where 
 they wo n t find him ; nor you, nor any one else. 
 
 Oh ! ho ! you - re coming the mysterious over us, are 
 you ? Well, that s your look-out. You may hide youi 
 babies, and be d d, for all I care, replied Mr. Snork care 
 lessly, kicking a small stump of wood in the fire ; only I 
 thought that as the game was up with you, and the gal gone, 
 and the beaks arter the boy, you d like to get rid of him ; 
 that s all. But we want to meddle with no one s affairs 
 do we, Mrs. Snork ? 
 
 That lady, who had taken no active part in the conver- 
 
HARRY EARS ON 95 
 
 sation, but on the contrary, to show either her indifference 
 to her husband, or her visitor, had gone to the window and 
 was looking out, turned short around, and without replying 
 to the question, said : 
 
 1 If there s any lady or gentleman in this ere room who 
 expects a visit from the police, they d better make them 
 selves scarce, cause the police is coming ; / do n t expect 
 nobody. / do n t keep such vulgar company. 
 
 Saying this, the lady seated herself complacently on a small 
 stool, and looked with a pleasant smile in the fire. Her 
 composure, however, was shared neither by Mr. Snork nor 
 Mrs. Blossom ; and after a hurried consultation of a minute 
 or two, the man opened a small door, communicating with a 
 dark passage in which was a narrow stair-way leading to a 
 back street. Beckoning to Mrs. Blossom to follow, he stood 
 holding the latch of the door, until the noise of the persons 
 ascending the main stair-case warned him that it was time 
 to be off; when, shutting the door, he left the room in the 
 undivided possession of his lady. 
 
 Scarcely had they disappeared, when the other door was 
 flung open, and one or two police-officers entered, accom 
 panied by a short, square-built man, with fiery black eyes, 
 who burst into the room, followed at a less rapid pace by an 
 old man who led a little girl by the hand. 
 
 Is your name Snork? demanded the former, impetu 
 ously ; answer me. 
 
 A woman who could keep such a man as Mr. Snork in 
 subjection, was one not likely to be intimidated by the 
 general run of men ; and she accordingly answered, that 
 what her name was, was her own business and none of his. 
 
 Damme, you may well be ashamed of it ! exclaimed 
 the man. fiercely; one whose life is spent in breaking the 
 
96 HARRY HARSON. 
 
 hearts of children, and making them food for the prison, the 
 gallows, and the grave, may well shrink 
 
 * Come, come, Frank, interrupted the old man, this will 
 never do. You know nothing against this person. I m 
 sure, said he, * you would not willingly be unjust, and you 
 are so now. We came here merely to ask a few questions, 
 which I have no doubt will be answered without hesitation. 
 We are searching for a boy, the brother of this girl, said 
 he, turning to the woman, who directed her attention to him 
 for the purpose of not observing the operations of the police 
 men, who, with a spirit of inquiry peculiar to police-officers, 
 were overturning the numerous heaps of rubbish and old 
 clothing which lay scattered about the room, possibly for 
 the purpose of examining their quality. If you can give 
 us any information respecting him, you will not only oblige 
 us, but will be rewarded for your trouble. 
 
 Had Mrs. Blossom been more . communicative, it is not 
 improbable that the last part of Harson s remark would have 
 placed her -secret in imminent danger ; but as Mrs. Snork 
 happened to be profoundly ignorant on the subject, she 
 answered, bluntly, that she knew nothing about him. 
 
 Nor of the woman who keeps him ? 
 
 I do n t keep the run of all the women that has boys, 
 replied Mrs. Snork, sulkily. * Most of em has em. 
 
 Her name s Blossom, said the old man. 
 
 * Well, I suppose that does n t hinder her from having a 
 boy, does it ? replied Mrs. Snork ; or two, or a dozen. 
 There is no law agin it, is there ? I do n t see what I ve 
 got to do with this ere ; or why you come rioting in my 
 premises, arter run-away old women and run-away boys. I 
 do n t keep lodgings for em. 
 
 Come, come, old woman, this ere is all gammon, said 
 
HARRY HARSON. 97 
 
 one of the policemen, who had got through his investigation, 
 and was ready to take part in the dialogue. It wo n t go 
 down with us. We know you, and you know us ; so put a 
 stopper on your tongue, and answer our questions ; and civ 
 illy too, and straight forrards, or we 11 rake up some old 
 grudges, which you would n t like to have meddled with. 
 So look sharp now. Where s Mrs. Blossom ? 
 
 I do n t know, replied the woman, in a tone not a little 
 subdued by the last hint of the officer. 
 
 Recollect that, Bill, said the man, turning to his asso 
 ciate. She do n t know. Put that down. I suppose 
 you never saw her, said he, again addressing the woman. 
 
 * Yes, I did, said Mrs. Snork, evidently ill at ease, at the 
 progress of the examination ; while Bill, drawing a lead pen 
 cil from his pocket, proceeded to wet its point on his tongue, 
 and to write his own name in a small book with great fre 
 quency and perseverance, leaving the lady under the impres 
 sion that her answers were going down in black and white. 
 
 She did see her, Bill, said the man. Book that. 
 
 Bill wrote his name again. 
 
 When ? 
 
 About ten minutes ago. She went out there said Mrs. 
 Snork, pointing to the door through which Mr.*. Blossom 
 had retreated. Where she went to, or where the boy is, or 
 who he is, or any thing more about him, I do n t know ; 
 that s flat. 
 
 Saying this, by way of proving that it was flat, she slapped 
 her hand on her own knee, and turned her back upon 
 them alL 
 
 Have you booked all that, Bill ? 
 
 Bill nodded. 
 
 If an abundant reward could induce you to give us and 
 more information, said the old man. hesitating : 
 
98 HARRY HARSON. 
 
 I ve told you all I know, replied the woman, sharply 
 * If you 11 pay for lies, I 11 give you plenty of em. 
 
 Harson cast a puzzled look at the officers. 
 
 I guess she do n t know any thing more, said the man. 
 If she does, and has been coming her nonsense over me, 
 she 11 pay up for it, that s all, and she knows it. Come, 
 Sir ; there s nothing more to be did here. 
 
 Saying this, he turned on his heel, and, followed by the 
 others, left the room. 
 
HARRY H ARSON. 99 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 IN the same room which has been already described, in 
 Harry Harson s dwelling, and in one of the stout, plethoric 
 chairs before mentioned as constituting a part of its furniture, 
 and beneath the superintendence of the busy clock, and un 
 der the watchful eye of that respectable dog Spite, sat Jacob 
 Rhoneland, with his elbow resting on the table, his cheek 
 leaning on the palm of his hand, and his eyes half shaded by 
 his long blanched locks, listening with deep anxiety to liar- 
 son, who occupied a chair opposite, and was speaking with 
 an earnestness which showed that the subject on which he 
 discoursed was one in which he felt no slight interest. 
 
 The manner of Rhoneland would have attracted the 
 notice of even a casual observer. He seemed restless and 
 nervous ; and at times even frightened. Occasionally he 
 smiled faintly, and shaking his head, half rose from his seat, 
 but sat down, scarcely conscious of what he did ; and lean 
 ing his forehead on the palm of his hand, seemed to listen 
 with breathless attention, as if dreading to lose a word of 
 Harson s remarks, which were occasionally strengthened by 
 his pressing his hand gently on Rhoneland s, as it rested on 
 the table. At last, Harson, in conclusion, said in an earnest 
 tone : Now tell me, Jacob, on your honor, do you love her ? 
 
 Do I love her? repeated Rhoneland ; do I love my own 
 child, my own little Kate, who slept in my arms when a child, 
 and who, now that she has become quite a woman, and I 
 am gray, and feeble, and broken down, still clings to me ? 
 Others have found me a querulous, troublesome old man, 
 
100 HARRY H ARSON. 
 
 and have fallen away from me ; but she never did. Do n t 
 ask me if I love her, Harry, do n t ask that again. Do I 
 think of any one else, or care for any one else ? Dead and 
 frosty as this old heart is, she has the whole of it ; and she 
 leserves it ; God bless her ! God bless her ! It s not a little 
 Jaatter that would make me forget Kate. 
 
 The old man raised his head ; and his eye lighted up with 
 an expression of pride, as he thought of his child. It was 
 transient, and as it passed off he fell into deep thought. 
 What strange fancies peopled those few moments of thought ; 
 for the memory of the old is teeming with phantoms of 
 hopes and dreams, long past ; familiar things, part of them 
 selves, of their very being, but now melted into air, faded 
 and gone, they cannot tell when or whither ; and of faces 
 and forms long since shrouded in the tomb. And in the 
 dim ears of age, in faint whispers, speak voices whose tones 
 are never to be heard again ; awakening old- affections, sub 
 dued indeed by time, but yet unextinguished, and slumbering 
 in hidden corners of memory, and appealing to the heart of 
 the living, and begging still to be cherished there. Rhone- 
 land sighed as he turned his eyes from the window, and 
 looked down at his withered hands. They were not so when 
 Kate was a child. lie was far from young, even then, but 
 not so old and shattered as now. Kate s mother was living 
 too ; she was much younger than he was ; and he had hoped 
 that she would have outlived him ; but he had followed her 
 to the grave, and he was left alone with his little girl ! 
 His lip quivered ; for he remembered her watchful kindness ; 
 her patience ; the many marks of affection which had escaped 
 her, showing that he was always uppermost in her thoughts ; 
 and that, amid all other occupations, she never forgot him. 
 They had been trifling indeed ; perhaps unnoticed at the time ; 
 but he had missed them when she was in her grave, and they 
 
HARRY EARS ON. 101 
 
 carne no more. She had begged him to cherish and guard 
 their child when she should be gone, and there would be 
 none to love her but him. Had he done so ? Ay ! with 
 heart and soul ; with heart and soul, muttered he, rising 
 and walking across the room, to conceal the working of his 
 countenance, and the tears which started in his eyes. 
 
 Oh Harry ! said he, turning to Harson, if you knew 
 all, you would n t ask if I love Kate. She s every thing to 
 me now. All are gone but her ; all all ! 
 
 He returned, and seated himself, with a deep sigh. His 
 lips moved as if he were speaking, though no sound escaped 
 them ; but after a moment he said : It s all that I can do 
 for one who s dead. 
 
 I do believe that your child is dear to you, Jacob; I 
 never doubted it, said Harson ; but there is another question 
 which I must ask. * Have you observed her of late ? Have 
 you noticed her drooping eye, her want of spirits, and failing 
 strength ? 
 
 Rhoneland moved restlessly in his chair, and then 
 answered : * No, no, Harry, you re jesting. Kate s eye is 
 bright, and her cheek full and round ; her step elastic and 
 firm. I watch that, Harson. Oh ! Harry, you do n t dream 
 how anxiously I watch her. Her life is mine ; her heart s 
 blood is my heart s blood. She s in no danger, no danger, 
 Harry, said he, taking Harson s hand between his, and 
 looking appealingiy in his face. Is she in any danger ? 
 Do n t deceive me. Is any thing the matter with her ? 
 
 No, not just now, replied Harson. But suppose you 
 should see her becoming thin, and her looks and health 
 failing ; and even though she should not die, suppose her 
 young heart were heavy, and her happiness destroyed and 
 by you ? 
 
 The old man looked at Harson with a troubled, wistful 
 
102 HARRY H ARSON. 
 
 eye, as he said : Well, Harry, well ; I m old very old ; 
 do n t trifle with me, I can t bear it. What do you mean ? 
 Is Kate ill? 
 
 * No, not exactly ill] replied Harson, much at a loss how 
 to introduce his subject. * Suppose, in short, that she should 
 fall in love, some day for young girls will do these things 
 and suppose that the young fellow was a noble, frank- 
 hearted boy, like like Ned Somers, for instance would 
 you thwart her ? I only say suppose it to be Sorners. 
 
 Kate does n t think of these things, said the old man, in 
 a querulous tone. She s a child ; a mere child. It will be 
 time enough to talk of them years hence. God help me ! 
 muttered he, pressing his hands together, * Can it be that she, 
 my own little Kate, will desert me ? I ll not believe it ! 
 She s but a child, Harry ; only a child. 
 
 Kate is nearly eighteen, Jacob, replied Harson, and 
 quite a woman for her years. She s beautiful, too. I pre 
 tend to no knowledge of women s hearts, nor of the precise 
 age at which they think of other things than their dolls ; 
 but were I a young fellow, and were such a girl as Kate 
 Rhoneland in my neighborhood, I should have been over 
 head and ears in love, months ago. 
 
 Jacob Rhoneland folded his hands on the table, and 
 leaned his head upon them, without speaking, until Harson 
 said, after the lapse of some minutes, Come, Jacob, what 
 ails you ? 
 
 Without making any reply to this question, Rhoneland, 
 looking him full in the face, asked, in a sad tone : Do 
 you think, Harry, that Kate, my own child, has turned 
 her back upon me, and given her heart to a stranger? And 
 do you think that she will desert her father in his old age, 
 and leave him to die alone ? 
 
 4 Come, come, Rhoneland, this is too bad, said Harson ; 
 
HARRY EARS ON. 103 
 
 * this is mere nonsense. If the girl should happen to cast a 
 kind glance at Ned, Ned s a fine fellow ; and if Ned should 
 happen to think that Kate had not her equal among all 
 whom he knew, he would be perfectly right. And then if, 
 in the course of time, they should happen to carry matters 
 farther, and get married, I do n t see why you should take it 
 to heart, or should talk of desertion, and dying alone. I 11 
 warrant you Ned is not the man to induce a girl to abandon 
 her friends. No, no ; he s too true-hearted for that. 
 
 * Well, well, said the old man, rising and gazing anxiously 
 about him, God grant that it may never happen. It will 
 be a sad day for me when it does. I d rather be in my grave. 
 I cannot tell you all ; but if you knew what / do, perhaps 
 you d think so too. Indeed you would, Harry. There s one 
 who knows more about Somers than either you or I ; much 
 that s bad, very bad. I can t tell his name. 
 
 I know it already, replied Harson : Michael Rust. 
 Ha! ejaculated Rhoneland, in a faint voice, his cheek 
 growing pale ; You know Michael Rust, do you ? 
 
 * I know something of him, and but little in his favor. 
 What he says against Somers is not worth thinking of. Let 
 him clear his own name. Perhaps he may be called on to do 
 it some day, and may find it no easy matter. And now, my 
 old friend, said he, taking Rhoneland by the hand, since we 
 have spoken of this Rust, let me caution you against him. 
 Listen to no tales of his respecting Kate, or Ned, or any one 
 else. Beware of all connection with him. Above all, give 
 him no hold on yourself; for if you do, depend on it, you 11 
 rue it. I ve made inquiries about him ; and you may rest 
 assured that I do not speak unadvisedly. 
 
 Rhoneland had risen to go ; but as Harson spoke he sank 
 feebly in his chair, and buried his face in his hands, with his 
 long hair falling over them ; but no sound of emotion escaped 
 
104 HARRY H ARSON. 
 
 him, although Harson could see that he trembled violently, 
 and that there was a great internal struggle going on. At 
 last he said : It s very hard, Harry, to feel that you are in 
 the power of a man who would not hesitate to sacrifice even 
 your life to his own ends ; and yet to know that it must be 
 so ; that, hate and loathe him as you may, your fate is linked 
 with his, and that he and you must sink or swim together. 
 But so it is, God help me ! a poor bewildered old man ! Oh ! 
 Harry, could I but die, with *ione to molest me, or see me, 
 but my own dear child ; with no one to haunt my death-bed 
 and torture me, and threaten me and her; and could I but 
 know that when I am gone she at least will be happy, I d do 
 ^t, Harry, I d.do it ! Life is not to me what it once was. It s 
 dull enough, now. 
 
 And who is this who has such power over you ? inquired 
 Harson, placing his hand on his shoulder. * Come, be frank 
 with me, Jacob ; who is it ? Is it Michael Rust ? 
 
 Rhoneland started up, looked suspiciously about the room, 
 and said in a quick, husky voice : Did I say it was Rust ? 
 I m sure I did not, Harry. Oh ! no, not Rust. He s a noble, 
 generous fellow ; so frank, and free, and bold. Oh ! no, not 
 Rust ; he s my best friend. I would n t offend Rust, nor 
 thwart him, nor cross his path, nor even look coldly on him. 
 Oh ! no, no, no ! Do n t speak of him. I do n t like to talk 
 of him. Let s speak of something else ; of yourself, or Ned, 
 or Kate of Kate, my own dear little Kate. She s a noble 
 girl, Harry, is she not ? Ha ! ha ! that she is ! and the old 
 man laughed faintly, drew a deep sigh, and turned abruptly 
 away. 
 
 * Harry, said he, after a pause, will you make me a 
 promise ? 
 
 If it is one which a man may honestly keep, I will, re | 
 plied Harson. 
 
HA R R Y If A J2 S N. 105 
 
 * When I am dead, will you be a father to Kate ? love 
 her as I have Joved her no, no, that you cannot but love 
 her you can, and will ; and above all, said he, sinking his 
 voice, let no evil tales respecting her father be whispered in 
 her ear ; let her believe that he was all that was virtuous and 
 good. I Ve wronged no man, Harry ; and however much 
 appearances may hereafter be against me, this heart and 
 hand are honest ; there s no fraud or deceit in what I ask, 
 and I know you 11 do it ; for when I m in my grave, her 
 heart will be the last hold I shall have on earth. When the 
 dead are swept from memory too, the earth is lost to them 
 indeed. Will you promise, Harry ? 
 
 4 1 will, said Harson ; and as my own child will I guard 
 her from all harm. 
 
 * That s all ; and now, God bless you ! I Ve lingered here 
 too long. Do n t forget your promise. I feel happier for it 
 even now. 
 
 Jacob Rhoneland, however, was not doomed to reach his 
 home in the same frame of mind in which he then was ; for 
 he had not gone far from Harson s house, when a voice 
 whose tones sent the blood to his heart, exclaimed: Ha, 
 Jacob ! my old friend Jacob ! It makes my heart dance to 
 see you walking as briskly as if old age and the cares of life 
 had left no mark upon you. You re a happy man, Jacob. 
 
 Rhoneland started ; for in front of him, bowing, and smirk 
 ing, and rubbing his hands together, stood Michael Rust, his 
 eyes glowing and glittering, with a glee that was perfectly 
 startling. Rhoneland muttered something of its being a fine 
 day, and of the pleasant weather, which had tempted him 
 abroad, and then stopped abruptly. 
 
 * You acted unwisely, my friend, very unwisely, in being 
 from home at such a moment, said Rust, * for I just came 
 from there ; and such doings, Jacob ! such plots ! such con- 
 
 5* 
 
106 HARRY U ARSON. 
 
 trivances ! such intrigues, and love-making, and billing, and 
 cooing, and whispering! and such conspiracies against old 
 dad ! . Not that I believe little Kate had any thing to do with 
 it. Oh, no ! but she s young, and Ned Somers is no mat- 
 te r what. / know what he is ; and others know too. But I 
 never make mischief, nor meddle. / say nothing against 
 him. No ! he s a noble fellow very noble ; so open and 
 candid ! Ha ! ha ! ha ! I hope you won t go to your house 
 some day and find your daughter flown, and with him; and 
 I hope if it is with him it will be to the church ; that s all 
 that s all. Good-bye, Jacob ; I m in a vast hurry, said he, 
 bustling off, as if recollecting some important engagement. 
 Dear me ! I ve lost a world of time. Good-bye, good-bye. 
 If you should happen to get home soon, you ll surprise them 
 both. 
 
 As he went off, he turned back, and muttered to himself. 
 I ve sown the seeds of suspicion in his heart against his 
 own child. Let him hate her, if needs be ; and let him think 
 her the vilest of the vile. It will favor my ends. 
 
 The old man stood for a long time where Rust had left 
 him, with his hands clasped, looking about him with a be 
 wildered air. lie seemed like one stunned by some heavy 
 and overpowering blow. He took one or two steps, tottering 
 as he went, and then leaned feebly against a house. The 
 words my child ! my child ! once or twice escaped him, in 
 a low, moaning tone ; he passed his fingers -over the buttons 
 of his coat, unconsciously twitching and jerking them ; he 
 looked on the pavement, and seemed endeavoring to regain 
 some train of thought which had passed through his mind ; 
 and then shaking his head, as if disappointed at his want or 
 success, scarcely knowing what he did, he commenced count- 
 Eg the cracks in the bricks. A few small stones were lying 
 jn the side-walk, and he idly kicked them off, one by one: 
 
HARRY H ARSON. 107 
 
 his thoughts wandered from one object to another, until he 
 began to watch the smoke, as it escaped from the chimneys 
 of the houses opposite. Some was dark and brown, and 
 some blue and bright, and circled upward, until it and the 
 sky became one ; while the other floated off, a dark, lowering 
 mass, as long as he could see it. People were passing in 
 various directions ; and he wondered whither they were going, 
 and how many there were ; he commenced counting them ; 
 he made a mistake ; he had got to twenty, when three or 
 four passed together ; so he struck the score from his mem 
 ory, and commenced afresh. At last a man jostled him, as 
 he stood, and told him to get out of the way, and not to oc 
 cupy the whole walk. This recalled him to himself; and he 
 resumed his course. As he went on, the recollection of what 
 Rust had told him again crossed his mind ; and his feeling ot 
 indifference gave place to one of fierce excitement. With 
 his teeth hard set, his long hair streaming in the wind, his 
 step rapid, yet tottering and irregular, and with an expression 
 of intense mental anguish on every line of his face, he bent 
 his steps toward his own house. It was a bright day, and 
 the warm sunshine was sleeping on roof and wall ; on cellar 
 and house-top, warming many a sad heart ; lighting up many 
 a heavy eye, and calling forth all that is happy and joyous 
 in earth and man. Strange was^t! that under such a sky, 
 with such a glad w r orld about him, an old man, hanging over 
 the grave, should dare to utter curses and imprecations 
 against his fellow-man. Yet such was the tenor of his 
 words : 
 
 * Curses on them ! curses on them ! muttered he ; the 
 false ones ! When I was striving like a very beast of bur 
 den, yielding body and soul to torments, for her sake, to play 
 me false! It was bitter, but it was human. Whenever 
 troubles gather about one s path ; when he is blighted and 
 
108 HARRY H ARSON. 
 
 crushed to the earth ; when his heart is bruised and bleed 
 ing, and yearns for the love and sympathy of those about 
 him ; when a mild word, a kind look, are of more worth than 
 gold or jewels, then friends drop off. Suffering and trouble 
 scatter them like a pestilence. I was in drivelling dotage, to 
 think that she would be aught else than the rest of them 
 What though I did give her life, and fondle her on my knee 
 in infancy ; and hang over her when she slept ; and pray, 
 come what might to me, that she might be happy ? What 
 though I did cherish and protect her, and love her, when 
 this old heart was warped against all the rest of the world, 
 until every fibre of it was entwined with hers ; until every 
 thought was for her; and how I should preserve the 
 accumulations of a hard life, so that when the earth covered 
 me she might live luxuriously ? What though I did all this ? 
 I became in her way ; for I had gold, and she wanted it ! 
 That s it ! Oh ! what a fool I was, continued he, bitterly, 
 to imagine that she would prove true, when all others have 
 proved false ; and that gratitude would bind her to me, so 
 that when I should become decrepid, and could not totter 
 about, but must mope out the remnant of my life, like 
 a chained prisoner, that she would be near me, with her bright 
 face and cheerful voice ; and would cheer me up ; and would 
 tell me that I had watched over her childhood; and that she 
 loved me for it. Happy dreams they were ! said he mourn 
 fully ; happy dreams ! Ah, Kate ! my own little child ! you 
 should not have forgotten your old father ; indeed you should 
 not. But no, no ! he added, checking himself, it could not 
 have been she; I 11 not believe it. It was not she poor 
 child ; she never did harm in her life. She was always good- 
 tempered, and kind, and patient. Oh, no! she must not 
 leave me I am too old now to find a new friend. I 11 beg 
 her to stay with me until I die. I 11 not live long, to-trouble 
 
11 A R K r uARSO N. 109 
 
 her ; and perhaps she will bear with me till then ; she must 
 not go ; oh, no ! she must not. Go? muttered he, his mood 
 changing, and his eyes beginning to flash ; go where? with 
 Somers ? with Somers ! Can it be that he has been all this 
 while schemino- to rob me of her? Go with Somers? with 
 
 5 
 
 Ned Somers ? He said he hoped it would be to the church. 
 What did he mean? what could he mean? But I ll soon 
 know, said he, hurrying on ; I 11 soon know ! 
 
 Impetuous the old man had always been, though age had 
 in a great measure subdued his spirit ; but now the recollec 
 tion of Rust s words lashed him into fury ; and when he 
 reached his house, he dashed into it without pausing to reflect 
 what he should say, or how he should act. He flung the 
 door open ; and, as if to justify the very tale of Michael 
 Rust, there stood Kate, with her hand in Ned s, and her head 
 resting against his shoulder. 
 
 * Ha ! ha ! taken ! taken ! shouted the old man, with a 
 kind of frenzied glee ; taken in the very act ! Plotting 
 treason ! plotting treason ! It was a glorious conspiracy, was 
 it not, Ned Somers ? to steal into a man s house, and, under 
 the garb of friendship, to endeavor to wean away his child, 
 and to carry her off ? Oh ! how some men can fawn ! what 
 open, frank faces they can have ! how they can talk of love, 
 and honor, and generosity ! what friendly smiles they can 
 wear ! And yet, Ned, these very men are lying, and all the 
 while the Devil is throned in their hearts, and sits grinning 
 there ! 
 
 Somers stared at him in undisguised astonishment ; for he 
 was fully convinced that the old man had lost his reason ; 
 and under that impression he placed himself between him 
 and Kate, lest in his fury he should injure her. 
 
 This movement did not escape Rhoneland. * Good God ! 
 
HO HA R R Y il A 
 
 said he, raising his clasped hands to heaven, he already 
 keeps me from my child ! Shall this be ? Out of my house ! 
 out of my house ! shouted he, advancing toward him, and 
 shaking his fist. 
 
 Never, returned Sorners, until I am convinced that you 
 will not harm your daughter. 
 
 / harm her ! / harm her ! repeated Rhoneland. God 
 of heaven ! what black-hearted villains there are ! The very 
 man who would by false oaths and protestations decoy her 
 from her own hearth, and when she had deserted all for him, 
 would cast her off, a branded thing, without name or fame, 
 he, he talks of protecting her from her own father ! Nr< no, 
 Ned Somers, he said, in a voice of bitter calmness, * you may 
 go ; I 11 not harm her. 
 
 His words had given Somers a clue to the cause of his 
 conduct ; and pale as death, but with a calm face, he said, 
 * Will you hear me, Mr Rhoneland ? 
 
 Hear you ! Have I not heard you and believed you ? 
 Ay, I have. I was in my dotage ; and you too, Kate, you 
 listened and believed, did you not? Ah! girl, girl! a ser 
 pent charmed in Eden ! But it s past now. I 11 love you, 
 Kate, though he do not. They said that gold was my God. 
 They said that for gold I would barter every thing ; but 
 they did n t know me. He told you so too, Kate, did he 
 not ? he told you that I d sell you for that. He whis 
 pered tales of your father in your ear, until you became a 
 renegade at heart ; and you, my own child, plotted with a 
 stranger to desert your home. He told you that he loved 
 you ; and would make you his wife ; did he, not ? Poor 
 child ! poor child ? God help her ! she knows no better ! 
 Ned Somers, said he, turning to the young man, you must 
 leave this house, and come here no more. My daughter is 
 
HA R R Y 11 ARSON. 1 1 1 
 
 all that I have to bind me to life, and I cannot spare her. 
 You must go elsewhere to spread your web. For your vile 
 designs upon her, may God forgive you I never will ! 
 
 Jacob Rhoneland, said Somers, I have borne more from 
 you than I would have taken from any other man. You 
 are not now in a state to listen to reason, nor perhaps am I 
 able just now to offer it; but you have said that of me 
 which I should be false to myself not to answer ; and which 
 I declare to be utterly untrue. I do love your daughter ; 
 and love her well and honestly ; and I would like to see the 
 man, excepting yourself, who dare say otherwise. Some 
 one has been lying to you; and can I but find him out, he 
 shall pay for it. You, Kate, do n t believe it ? said- he, 
 turning to the girl, who stood by, with blanched cheek, and 
 the tears in her eyes. 
 
 No, no, Ned; I do not ; nor will father, when he s calm, 
 said she, taking the old man s hand. Some person has 
 been slandering you to him ; but he 11 get over it soon. 
 
 Rhoneland drew his hand hastily from her, and turning 
 to Ned, said : Leave the house ! I have already told you 
 to do so. Will you wait till you are thrust from it ? Begone, 
 I say! 
 
 Go, go, Ned, for my sake ! exclaimed Kate, pushing 
 him toward the door. He 11 never be right while you are 
 here. Go, dear Ned, go. 7 
 
 * I can t go before I ve told your father how matters 
 stand. 
 
 No matter for that now, said Kate earnestly ; * I 11 
 make all right ; go, go ! 
 
 Half pushing, half persuading him, she finally induced 
 him to leave the house. 
 
 * Friend Ned seems in a hurry, said a voice in his ear, 
 when he had gone but a hundred yards. * Has sweet little 
 
112 HARRY HA RSO N. 
 
 Kate been unkind ? Has she told you that she loved 
 Michael Rust ? Ha ! ha ! Or has old Dad been crabbed ? 
 Ha ! ha ! A queer old boy that -dad of hers, Ned ; a queer 
 old fellow ; full of freaks ! Do you know he hinted to me 
 that he thought you had an eye on Kate, and wanted to 
 run off with her ? Was n t that a good one, Ned ? Ha ! 
 ha ! It makes me laugh to think of it. He did n t know 
 that Michael Rust was the fellow ; that he was the one to 
 guard against. 
 
 I believe you, said Ned, bitterly ; I believe that Michael 
 Rust is the one to guard against; and Jacob Rhoneland will 
 find it out some day. 
 
 To be sure he will, to be sure he will ! said Rust. * Yet 
 the old fellow was afraid of you ; you, Ned, you ! He even 
 hinted that your purposes were not honest. Some kind 
 friend has been at work and filled his head with queer tales 
 about you. And all the time he did n t dream of me ; and 
 did n t know that it was me that Kate was dying for. He 11 
 find me his son-in-law yet, some day. I wish you would 
 keep away from, his house, Ned. To tell the truth, I m 
 jealous of you. For in confidence, Ned, I do believe that 
 Kate is a little of a coquette at heart ; and I have often 
 said to myself : Although I see nothing particularly kind in 
 her manner to Somers, who knows what it may be when 
 they re alone ? I m sure there s nothing in her actions, 
 when others are present, to betray how kind and coaxing 
 she is to me when we are alone. Ah ! Ned ; p 1 *^ is all 
 tenderness in our moments of privacy. The las* L -/nie ^ aw 
 her she said that she respected you, but swore she did not 
 care the snap of a finger for you. God bless her for that ! 
 how happy it made me ! how charming she looked ! Ah ! 
 she s an angel ! upon my soul I must go back and kiss 
 her! 
 
HARRY HARSON. 113 
 
 Somers, chafing with fury at being thus beset, had walked 
 on with a rapid step, while Rust kept pace with him, hissing 
 his words in his ear ; but as he uttered the last sentence, 
 Rust turned away. As he did so, Somers caught him by 
 the collar, and drawing him close to him, said : 
 
 Michael Rust, I know that every word you have just 
 uttered is false, and a vile slander against as noble a girl as 
 ever lived. I will not punish you as you deserve, because I 
 promised Kate Rhoneland that I would not ; but before you 
 go let me tell you this : A greater liar and villain than 
 yourself never walked. Things are oozing out about you, 
 which will make this city ring with your infamy. Tongues 
 which have been tied by gold have found fear more power 
 ful, and have spoken ; and there are those tracking out 
 Michael Rust s course for the last few years, who will not 
 let him rest till they have run him down. You re fond of 
 figures of speech ; there s one. Now go and kiss Kate 
 Rhoneland with what satisfaction you may ! 
 
 He flung him from him ; and, without looking at him 
 turned off into a bye-street. 
 
114 HARRY HARSON. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE few words uttered by Somers, as he flung his tor- 
 1 mentor from him, threw Michael Rust into a fit of profound 
 thought. Pondering over his schemes, and wondering 
 which particular one was about to fail ; and yet so confident 
 in his own sagacity and clear-sightedness, that he felt dis 
 posed to think failure impossible ; he took his way to his 
 own house. There, assuming the same costume which he 
 usually wore when in his office, he locked the door of his 
 room, put the key in his pocket, and sallied into the street. 
 
 If what he said be true, muttered he, there must be a 
 traitor. Him I can put my finger on ; and first of all him 
 will I punish ; and now for a trial of that new animal, 
 Kornicker. Bah ! 
 
 Had Mr. Kornicker overheard this allusion to himself, it 
 is scarcely probable that his gratification would have been 
 extreme ; for admitting himself and all the rest of the 
 human race, zoologically speaking, to be animals; even 
 then, there was much in the tone of Michael Rust to indi 
 cate that Mr. Kornicker belonged to a genus distinct from 
 and inferior to the human species in general ; and this was 
 a position against which there is little doubt that Mr. Kor 
 nicker would have contended manfully. Without pausing 
 to reflect upon the justice or injustice of his observation, 
 and in truth forgetting that he had made it, Rust took the 
 shortest route to his office, whither, to explain what will 
 follow, it may not be amiss to precede him. 
 
 From the day on which he had taken Kornicker into his 
 service, he had not been at his office, nor had he met his 
 
HARRY HARSON. 115 
 
 new clerk, or seen him, or heard from him. In truth, many 
 other matters pressing upon him, prevented his calling 
 there ; and although he did not forget that Kornicker was 
 almost a stranger to him, for he forgot nothing, yet know 
 ing that he could do no harm where he was, and that there 
 was little to embezzle or steal, except the door-key, he in a 
 great measure dismissed him from his thoughts, until he 
 required his services. Although this matter dwelt thus 
 lightly on the mind of Rust, it was the source of much 
 profound thought and intense abstraction to Kornicker. 
 He had endeavored to learn something respecting Rust ; 
 and even formed an intimacy with the desperadoes, for 
 the purpose ; and what little he learned there certainly 
 did not make him more at ease ; for even the most des 
 perate of them shook his head, and gave him a friendly 
 caution to look sharp ; at the same time adding, that 
 though Rust was a little man, he was a bitter root. It 
 was observed, however, that by degrees Mr. Kornicker s 
 abstraction grew less and less, and his spirits rose. At 
 times, unnatural sounds and loud laughter, and even songs, 
 were heard to emanate from Rust s hitherto silent room ; 
 and in the dusk of the evening, dim figures were seen 
 skulking to and from it ; and in the day-time, shabby-gen 
 teel men loitered carelessly through the entry, and after 
 listening at the key-hole, gave a shrill whistle, which being 
 answered from within, they dove into the room, and disap 
 peared. At times, too, the clinking of knives and forks 
 against crockery was heard from within ; and on such oc 
 casions, the phantom of the small boy with a white cap on 
 his head was seen to flit up and down the stairs with a dish 
 in his hand, or a bottle under his arm, always vanishing at 
 Rust s office, or disappearing in the bowels of the refectory 
 below. 
 
116 HARRY HAR80N. 
 
 But notwithstanding all these symptoms of returning 
 vivacity, Mr. Kornicker s mind was far from tranquil on the 
 subject of the mystery of his present situation. 
 
 Fallen into the toils of a little old man, said he to him 
 self, as he sat, on the morning on which we open this chap 
 ter, in front of the fire, with his legs stretched at full length 
 in front of him ; the toe of one foot supporting the heel of 
 the other ; of a little old man, with a red handkerchief 
 tied round his head, a broad-brimmed hat on the top of that, 
 and a camlet cloak over his shoulders. It s too deep for 
 me. I can t fathom it. The victim of a hideous compact, 
 whereby I am decoyed into his service, to sit in a room 
 eight feet by twelve, on a yellow wooden chair with four 
 legs, and a back made of the most uneasy kind of timber, 
 probably lignum-vitse, and yet with no cushion ; to wait 
 for people who never come, to eat without drinking, and 
 to submit to divers other small inconveniences ; such as 
 bringing up coal in a pail without a handle ; kindling 
 my own fire with damp wood, and snuffing sixpenny dips 
 with a pair of tongs, one of whose feet is absent. There s 
 something very mysterious about it very. All I hope 
 is, that this Mr. Rust is not the Old Boy. That s all. 
 I do n t wish to speak disrespectfully of him : but I do 
 sincerely hope, for his own sake, that he isn t the Old 
 Boy. It would be bad for him if he were. As for myself, 
 said he, drawing out his snuff-box, and snuffing with great 
 absence of mind, it makes no difference : I m used to 
 it. I Ve been brought up under trying circumstances. I 
 slept in a grocery sand-bin on the north corner of a street 
 for a week. Not such a bad place neither in warm weather ; 
 but I was ousted by a tipsy gentleman, whom I found there 
 one night. The tipsy gentleman was sick, too ; and when 
 tipsy gentlemen get sick, most people know what follows. 
 
HARRy H ARSON. 117 
 
 The .place was untenantable afterward. But that was 
 nothing to this ; positively nothing. I knew what I was 
 about then ; now I do n t. I never met but one case in 
 point with mine. It was that of the fellow in the Arabian 
 Nights, who fell into the clutches of forty unknown women, 
 and remained with them, feasted with them, and all that 
 they paying the shot, as in my case until one morning 
 they all came weeping, and wailing, and gnashing their 
 teeth, to tell him that they were off in the first boat ; and 
 that he must stay there till they came back, and might do 
 whatever he liked, and go wherever he chose, except into 
 the stable. There s no stable here, but I am restricted in 
 liquors ; that carries out the parallel. The housekeepei 
 handed him the keys, and he went jingling about, for forty 
 days, with the keys hanging at his button-hole ; his hands 
 in his breeches pockets, whistling and yawning ; locking 
 and unlocking doors, and smelling flowers ; eating apples 
 and pea-nuts, I suppose, although they were not specially 
 mentioned, and poking his nose into all the odd corners. 
 There the parallel fits again ; only it s soon got through 
 with here, seeing that there s only under the table and up 
 the chimney to look, and I Ve done both. No matter ; that 
 chap wound up by having an eye knocked out ; and I hope 
 the joke won t be carried so far with me. 
 
 Mr. Kornicker cut short his reflections and remarks ; and 
 sitting upright, pulled up his vest, and felt in the neighbor 
 hood of his watch-pocket. Suddenly recollecting, however, 
 that he had left the article which belonged there in the safe 
 keeping of a friend, who, with a kindness worthy of all 
 praise, not only took charge of it for him, but actually paid 
 for the privilege of doing so; he pulled down his vest and 
 said, he supposed that it was all right, and that they would 
 be here presently. If his last remark applied to guests 
 
113 HARRY HARSON. 
 
 whom lie expected, he was apparently correct in his sur 
 mise ; for he had scarcely uttered it, when there was a 
 single sharp knock at the door. 
 
 * Who s there ? demanded he, without starting. 
 
 * Open the door ! replied a voice from without. 
 
 It is n t locked, said Kornicker ; and it might have been 
 observed that there was a remarkable abatement of firmness 
 in the tone of his reply. 
 
 In pursuance of this hint, the door opened, and in walked 
 Michael Rust ! 
 
 Mr. Kornicker, in the course of his checkered existence, 
 had frequently found himself in positions in which he was 
 taken dreadfully aback ; but it is doubtful whether he had 
 ever detected himself in a situation which threw him into a 
 state of such utter and helpless consternation as his present 
 one ; for, relying on the continued absence of his employer, 
 he had that day invited four particular friends to drop into 
 the office, as he had carelessly observed, * to take pot- 
 luck with him a trifle or so ; any thing that should turn 
 up. This was the very hour : and here was Rust. 
 
 He made an unsuccessful effort to welcome his visitor. 
 He got up, muttered something about unexpected pleasure, 
 looked vacantly round the room ; rubbed his hands one over 
 the other ; made an attempt to smile, which terminated in 
 a convulsive twitching of his lips; and finally sat down, 
 with his intellect completely bewildered, and without having 
 succeeded in any thing, except exciting the surprise and 
 suspicion of Rust. 
 
 There ll be hell to pay ! said Kornicker, communing with 
 his own thoughts, * there positively will ; I know it. There 
 comes one of them, thought he, as a step deliberately 
 ascended the stair ; but it passed to the flight above. 
 There was some relief in that ; but it was only a respite, 
 
HARRY HARSON. 119 
 
 Come they must ! He wrung his hands, snuffed spasmodic 
 ally, returned the box to his pocket, and took it out again 
 instantly. What shall I do ? what shall I do ? what the 
 DEVIL shall I do ? exclaimed he mentally. 
 
 Rust had spoken to him three times, but he had not 
 heard a word. This is all very strange, muttered Rust, 
 looking about the room as if to seek some explanation. 
 The first thing which attracted his attention was the fact 
 that the two chairs which he had left in the office had, by 
 some odd process of multiplication, increased to six. 
 
 There are six chairs here, said he, addressing his clerk, 
 in a stern tone ; where did they come from ? Whom are 
 they for ? 
 
 Mr. Kornicker looked round, and smiled helplessly. 
 Six ? Oh, ay ; one, two, three, four, five six. So there 
 are six, said he. 
 
 Well? 
 
 Well; oh, well? Oh, yes, quite well, I thank you; 
 very well, said Mr. Kornicker, whose ideas were rapidly 
 becoming of a very composite order, and who caught only 
 the monosyllable, without exactly taking in its meaning. 
 
 I m afraid that Mr. Kornicker is lonely in the absence 
 of his friend Michael Rust, said Rust, with his usual sneer ; 
 that he finds this dull, dingy room too dreary for him ; 
 and has invited six chairs to keep him company, and cheer 
 up his spirits. 
 
 Kornicker made no reply ; he could not, for another step 
 was ascending the stairs. This time it paused at the door, 
 as if the visitor were adjusting his collar, and pulling down 
 his wristbands ; after which, a thinnish gentleman, dressed 
 in a green coat, with wide skirts, white at the elbows, and 
 polished at the collar, and pantaloons tightly strapped down 
 
120 HARRY HARSON. 
 
 gray and glistening at the knees, and not a little torn at the 
 pockets, sauntered carelessly in. 
 
 * Servant, Sir ; servant, Sir ; said he, nodding to Rust 
 with a familiar air, and swinging in his hand a particularly 
 dingy handkerchief. * This, I suppose, is one of us. He s 
 an old chip ; but he may be come, of a prime block. The 
 latter part of this remark was addressed to Kornicker ; 
 and terminated with a request that he would do the 
 genteel, and present him to his friend. Kornicker. however, 
 sat stock-still, looking in the grate, and evincing no signs of 
 life, except by breathing rather hard. 
 
 Ha ! ha ! Ned s gone again brown study ! said the 
 gentleman, winking at Rust, touching his own forehead, and 
 at the same time extending his hand. * It s his way. 1 
 suppose you re one of our social little dinner-party to-day ? 
 
 4 Yes, oh, yes ! said Rust, quietly ; for these words, and 
 the six chairs, afforded an immediate solution of his diffi 
 culties. I dropped in ; and being intimate with Ned, 
 thought I d stop. 
 
 * So I supposed, said the other. l As Ned won t, I will. 
 My name s Sludge, Mr. Thomas Sludge, said he, extending 
 his hand to Rust. Happy to make your acquaintance. 
 Your name is eh ? eh 3 
 
 4 Quite a common one ; Smith ; Mr. Smith, replied Rust. 
 
 * Ha ! ha ! you re joking ; but no you do n t belong to 
 that numerous family, though, do you ? Eh ? well ; I 
 thought from the cut of your eye that you were an old 
 quiz, and supposed, of course, you were joking. 
 
 At the announcement of the name, Kornicker looked up 
 with a vague hope that he might have been mistaken ; and 
 that it was not Michael Rust who had thus interrupted his 
 plans ; but there he stood. He s a dreadful reality ! 
 thought he, shaking his head. He s no Smith. He s 
 
HARRY H ARSON, 121 
 
 Michael Rust. God knows who lie 11 be next, and what 
 he 11 do, for I do n t. If they come, I pity them. That s 
 all I can do for them ; they must trust to their own re 
 sources, and the care of an overruling Providence. I sup 
 pose they 11 survive it. If they don t, Rust will have to 
 bury them. 
 
 He was too much overwhelmed by what had already 
 occurred, and by his anticipations of what was to come, 
 to attempt to extricate himself from his difficulties. They 
 had fallen upon him with a weight which was insupportable ; 
 and now, a ton or two more would make but little difference. 
 They might mash him flat, if they chose ; he should not 
 resist them. 
 
 In the mean time, Rust and Sludge conversed on all 
 topics, cracked their jokes, and were exceedingly -merry on 
 the subject of Kornicker and his employer, and of the tricks 
 which were played upon that respectable personage. 
 
 * Ha ! ha ! said Mr. Sludge, would n t he kick up a 
 rumpus if he knew what was going on here ? The very 
 idea of Rust arriving at this stage of knowledge seemed so 
 absurd, that they laughed until the room rang. 
 
 It was not long before their number was increased by the 
 addition of a short, square-built gentleman, with round 
 cheeks and green spectacles, who was introduced by Mr. 
 Sludge as Mr. Steekup, one of us. He was followed by a 
 thin fellow, in shabby attire, and with a very red nose. This 
 latter person was supported by a friend with very largo 
 whiskers, and a shaggy great-coat with huge pockets. The 
 first of these two was presented as Mr. Gunter, and the last 
 as Mr. Buzby. Each of these gentlemen, as they re 
 spectively entered, walked up to Kornicker, and slapped him 
 on the shoulder, at the same time saluting him with the 
 appellation of * my tulip, or my old buck, or * my sodger, 
 
 6 
 
1^2 HARRY EARS ON. 
 
 or some other epithet of an equally friendly character ; tc 
 all of which they received not a word in reply. But though 
 Kornicker s bodily functions were suspended, his thoughts 
 were wonderfully busy. 
 
 He felt that he was done for ; completely, irremediably 
 done for. He had an earnest wish, coupled with a hope, a 
 very faint hope a hope so vague and indefinable that it 
 seemed but the phantom of one that his guests w r ould 
 be suddenly seized with convulsions of an aggravated cha 
 racter, and die on the spot, or jump out of the window, or 
 bolt up the chimney, or cut each other s throats, or melt 
 into air. He did not care what, or which, or how, or when, 
 or where. All his thoughts and wishes tended to one par 
 ticular end ; that was, their abrupt departure, in some sudden 
 and decisive manner. But they evinced no disposition to 
 avail themselves of either means of getting out of his way, 
 of which he left them so liberal a choice. And to increase 
 his misery, amidst them all sat Rust, with his head bound 
 in his red silk handkerchief, bowing and smirking, and 
 passing himself off as one of themselves ; drawing out 
 their secrets, and quizzing old Rust, and occasionally casting 
 on his clerk an eye that seemed red-hot ; cracking double- 
 sided jokes, which made them laugh, and took the skin off 
 him ; and calling him * Ned, and asking why he was dull, 
 and why he didn t make himself at home as he did ; and 
 whether he did n t think that old Rust would make a flare 
 up, if he should happen to drop in ; and why he did n t 
 ask old Rust to his dinners sometimes ; and all in so plea 
 sant a tone, that the guests swore he was a diamond of the 
 first water, and Mr. Sludge hugged him on the spot. 
 
 Mr. Kornicker wondered if he were not dreaming ; and 
 whether Rust was in reality there, and whether he \ imself 
 was not sitting in front of the fire, sound asleep. I would 
 
HARRY If ARSON. 123 
 
 be pleasant to wake up and find it so ; but no, it could not 
 be ; people in dreams did n t laugh like these fellows. How 
 could they laugh as they did, when he was in such a state ! 
 How little they understood the game that was going on ! 
 How they d alter their tone, if they did ! It was ridiculous ; 
 it was exceedingly ridiculous. He ought to laugh ; he felt 
 that he ought ; but he would n t yet ; the dinner was to 
 come, and perhaps he might then ; he did n t know ; he 
 could n t say ; he d see about it. Hark ! There was a 
 thump against the wall below, and a jingling of spoons, and 
 knives and forks, against crockery. Now for it ! Another 
 thump ; another, accompanied by another jingle. He 
 wondered whether the boy had spilt the gravy. He hoped 
 he had n t ; but supposed he had. It made no difference. 
 He wondered whether he d brought the brandy ; supposed 
 he had; of course he had. It only wanted that to damn 
 
 him ! and of course he would be d d. He always had 
 
 been, and always would be ; it was his luck. The person 
 who was bringing the dinner stumbled again ; but he did n t 
 fall. No such good luck ! If he had fallen, if he had only 
 fallen, and broken his neck, or smashed the dinner, or done 
 any thing to prevent his reaching that door ; but no ; he was 
 too sure-footed for that ; any other boy would have done so ; 
 but he did n t. He reached the door, and saluted it with a 
 hearty kick; at the same time informing the company that 
 if they were hungry, they d better open it, as his hands 
 were full. Kornicker thought that his hands were full too ; 
 and even had a faint idea of laughing at this play upon 
 words ; but the inclination passed off without his doing so. 
 Michael Rust opened the door, and the boy came in. Kor 
 nicker knew it. He neither looked round nor moved ; in 
 fact, he closed his eyes ; yet he knew it he felt it. He 
 had an innate perception that the boy was there, within 
 
124 HARRY H ARSON. 
 
 three feet of him, bearing in his hands a large tray, with 
 dishes, and a brandy-bottle on it. And now the clattering 
 commenced ; and he was conscious that the boy was setting 
 the table. What would be the end of all this ; what could 
 be ? After all, perhaps Michael Rust might be a jolly fellow, 
 and he had n t found it out ; and perhaps he wanted to make 
 him at home, and keep up the joke, to save his feelings. 
 He would be glad to think so ; but he did n t ; no, no, he 
 was certain that there was some devil s play going on. 
 
 The only person who seemed fully to appreciate his situa 
 tion was the boy from the refectory, who, with the instinct 
 peculiar to boys of that class, had detected it on the spot ; 
 and abruptly placing a dish on the table, retired to a corner, 
 with his face to the wall, where he laughed violently in pri 
 vate. A warning look from Rust put a stop to his mirth ; 
 nor did he again indulge in it until, the table being set, and 
 being informed that the guests were not proud, and could 
 wait on themselves, he retreated to the entry, where he 
 became exceedingly hilarious. 
 
 * Come, Ned, my boy, be seated, said Rust, going up to 
 Kornicker, and slapping him on the shoulder. Wake up ; 
 you know we must be merry sometimes ; and when could 
 there be a better opportunity than when that old fool Rast 
 is away ? He 11 never find it out. Oh, no ; come, come. 
 
 Kornicker made a faint effort to decline ; but a look from 
 Rust decided him, and he rose, went to the table, and me 
 chanically seated himself in the lap of Mr. Sludge, who re 
 minded him that he was not a chair, but that there was an 
 article of that description vacant at his side. Kornicker 
 smiled feebly, bowed abstractedly, and took a seat. He 
 could not eat. He attempted to sip a littrc Brandy, but 
 choked in swallowing it. The dinner, however, went on 
 merrily. The knives and forks clattered against the plates ; 
 
HARRY HARSON. 125 
 
 the roast beef grew smaller and smaller ; the vegetables 
 skipped down ,the throats of the guests as if by magic ; and 
 the bottle knew no rest. In fact, the only article on the 
 table which stood its ground, was a sturdy old Dutchman 
 in a cocked-hat, who had been metamorphosed into a stone 
 pitcher; and sat there, with his stomach filled with cold 
 water, and his hands clasped over it. Lord ! how merry 
 they were ! And as the dinner went on, and the bottle 
 grew low, and another was called for by Rust, how uproar 
 ious they became ! How they sang, and howled, and hoot 
 ed ! What a din they created in the building ! By degrees 
 the entry became filled with the desperadoes from the 
 upper stories, who, attracted by doings kindred to their own, 
 accumulated there in a mass, and enlivened the performances 
 by howling through the key-hole, and echoing all the other 
 cries from the bottom of their lungs. But loudest and 
 merriest, and, as it appeared to Kornicker, most diabolical 
 of all, was Michael Rust ; helping every one ; passing the 
 bottle, and laughing, and yet constantly at work, endeavor 
 ing to worm out of his companions something against Kor 
 nicker which might render him amenable to the law, and 
 which he might hold over his head ; a rod to bend him to 
 his purposes, should he ever prove refractory. 
 
 As the dinner advanced and the bottle declined, the guests 
 grew humorous. Mr. Buzby in particular, who after several 
 unsuccessful efforts succeeded in describing the painful situ 
 ation of a pig, in whose ear a dog was whispering some con 
 fidential communication. He also attempted to imitate the 
 remonstrating scream of the animal ; but failed, owing to 
 his utterance having become somewhat thick. Mr. Gunter 
 then rose to offer thanks to Mr. Kornicker ; but sat down on 
 discovering that Mr. Buzby was terminating his communi 
 cation by an address of a similar character ; and that Mr. 
 
126 HARRY H ARSON. 
 
 Steekup was engaged in restraining Mr. Sludge, who was 
 bent on performing a hornpipe on the table, which he 
 guaranteed to do without breaking a plate or discomposing 
 a glass ; but which Mr. Steekup resisted, being of opinion 
 that his guaranty was but doubtful security. Mr. Sludgo 
 however, was not to be thwarted. He grew animated ; Rust 
 encouraged him ; he discussed the matter vehemently ; he 
 addressed every body, on all subjects ; he struggled ; ho 
 fought, and was finally removed from the room, and cast 
 into the arms of the desperadoes in the entry, to whom he 
 protested manfully against this treatment ; and one of the 
 skirts of his coat, which had been torn off in the debate, was 
 ejected after him. This occurrence, together with the fact 
 that a third bottle had become empty ; and that no more 
 was called for by Rust ; and that it was growing dark, which 
 was the hour for deeds of chivalry among choice spirits like 
 themselves, seemed to be the signal for a general break-up. 
 After shaking hands affectionately with Rust, and slapping 
 Kornicker kindly but violently on the back, and saying that 
 
 they were sorry to see him so d d glum, they all 
 
 spoke on promiscuous subjects at once, and departed in a 
 body, each trying in a very earnest manner to impress upon 
 the rest something which he forgot before he uttered it, 
 but which he supposed he would remember presently. 
 
 Rust waited until the silence showed that the guests and 
 the desperadoes had departed together ; and then turning 
 to Kornicker, and rubbing his hands together, said : 
 
 A very pleasant little party we Ve had, Mr. Kornicker ; a 
 very pleasant little party. Michael Rust is much obliged to 
 you for dispelling the gloom of his office, and making it the 
 gathering-place of such select society. He can t express his 
 thanks in terms sufficiently strong. He feels grateful, too, 
 for your strict adherence to the terms of the agreement be- 
 
HARRY K ARSON. 127 
 
 tween us. Twenty dollars a month, meals for one, liquor for 
 none. Those were the terms, I think ; but Michael Rust is 
 growing old, and his memory may have failed him. Perhaps, 
 too, brandy is n t a liquor ; he is n t certain ; it used to be, 
 when he was a boy ; and he does n t think that it has 
 changed its character ; but it may have done so, and he may 
 have forgotten it ; for you know he s old and childish, and 
 even in his dotage. 
 
 Mr. Kornicker shook his head. I knew it must come ! 
 thought he. lie muttered something about his standing 
 the shot for the brandy himself. He made a futile effort to 
 get at his snuff-box, but failed; said something about 
 apology to offer, and was silent. 
 
 Well, Sir, said Rust, after a pause, altering his manner, 
 * I have found you out. You have n t yet discovered what 
 / am. Get these things removed ; for I have that on hand 
 which must be attended to. I 11 overlook this, but it must 
 never be repeated. 
 
 Kornicker, glad to escape thus easily, and yielding, partly 
 to that ascendency which Rust invariably acquired over 
 those whom he made use of, and partly cowed by the con 
 sciousness of guilt, and the fear of losing a comfortable situ 
 ation, slunk out of the room in search of the boy from the 
 refectory. 
 
128 HARRY HARSON. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 PACING up and down the small room, and muttering to 
 himself in broken sentences, with his brows knit ; at one time 
 hugging his arms tight to his breast, at another flinging them 
 over his head, snapping his fingers, or rubbing his hands 
 together, and chuckling to himself, in that low, mocking 
 tone which was peculiar to him, Rust spent the short inter 
 val that elapsed between the departure and return of Kor 
 nicker. 
 
 When he came to the office on that afternoon, and dis 
 covered the character of the persons who during his absence 
 had made it their haunt, his first impulse had been to rid him 
 self of them in the most summary manner ; nor would he 
 have hesitated to have done so, but for the fear that Kornicker 
 might regard such a proceeding as tantamount to taking the 
 same step toward himself, and might break with him im 
 mediately, when he could but ill spare him. Determining, 
 however, to reap some advantage from his situation, he set 
 to work during the dinner to effect two objects ; in the first 
 of which, being to quell the spirits of his clerk, he was com 
 pletely successful ; but in the second, which was to discover 
 something against Kornicker by which he might hold not 
 only that gentleman s actions but his conscience in check, 
 and finally break him down, until he became a mere ma 
 chine, to obey blindly whatever was dictated to him, he 
 failed utterly. Nothing was discovered on which he could 
 hang a menace ; no burglary, no swindling, no embezzlement, 
 no fraud ; not even a petty contemptible theft ; nothing that 
 
HARRY HARSON. 129 
 
 could subject him to fine or imprisonment, even for a single 
 day ; for Kornicker, though a vagabond of the first water, 
 still stood out stoutly for principles ; of which he had estab 
 lished a code to suit himself, somewhat peculiar in character, 
 but which carried him along more safely, and with less to 
 answer for, here and hereafter, than many who boast a nicer 
 creed, and to whom God had granted greater gifts and 
 more extended opportunities. Rust had mistaken his man. 
 Kornicker never deserted a friend in trouble ; his hand was 
 never shut against the solicitations of want, even though that 
 hand might contain but a shilling; and often and often, the 
 whine of a beggar had drawn his last copper from him, 
 when he knew not whither to turn for another. Rust, how 
 ever, was not daunted ; for he believed no man so immacu 
 late but at some time or other he had brought himself within 
 reach of the iron arm of the law. Patience, patience ! 
 thought he ; time will bring that too, and then he will be 
 mine ; all mine ! 
 
 His reverie and these thoughts, which formed a very essen 
 tial part of it, were cut short by the arrival of the subject of 
 them, followed by the small boy who had officiated as 
 waiter, bearing a large basket ; and who, according to the 
 established usage of all waiters, on entering a room which 
 they intend to quit at any period on the same day, left the 
 door open to facilitate such proceeding. 
 
 * Shut the door ! said Rust, sharply. 
 
 The boy obeyed the order instantly ; and as was intended, 
 the stern, abrupt tone in which it was spoken had a very 
 decided effect upon Kornicker, who slunk into a seat near 
 the window, and began to look abstractedly at the ceiling. 
 
 It s growing dark, said Rust, turning to him. * Will 
 you oblige me by lighting a candle ? 
 
 There was a show of civility in the wording of this re- 
 6* 
 
130 HA R R Y HA RSON. 
 
 quest ; but the tone and manner were as peremptory as in 
 his abrupt order to the boy ; and it was obeyed with such 
 nervous alacrity that Kornicker succeeded not only in fulfill 
 ing it, but in burning his own finger ; whereupon he placed 
 the candle on the mantel-piece, and blew upon the afflicted 
 member with great earnestness. 
 
 Ah! said Rust, his thin lip curling, it s a pity ; espe 
 cially as it s entirely gratuitous ; I asked you to light the 
 candle, not your finger. 
 
 Kornicker stopped abruptly, and probably somewhat stimu 
 lated by the pain, advanced a step toward him ; and looking 
 him steadily in the face, said : * Thunder ! man ; let me tell 
 you 
 
 Certainly, interrupted Rust, bowing with his hand on 
 his heart, and his eyes closed, with an expression of profound 
 humility, tell me whatever you please ; I shall be delighted 
 to obtain information of any kind. Michael Rust is always 
 in search of knowledge. Pray go on with your communi 
 cation. From its opening I should think it was on the sub 
 ject of atmospheric electricity ; though perhaps it may treat 
 of burrfs, or candles, or even of dinner-parties for four ; or of 
 the various modes of keeping promises ; or perhaps you in 
 tend to show some new process by which a dinner contract 
 for one may be made to include five. The world s improv 
 ing ; perhaps mathematical calculations are advancing also, 
 and I may be behind the age. But no matter ; whatever it 
 is, emanating from such a source as Mr. Kornicker, Mr. Ed 
 ward Kornicker, it must be valuable. Go on, do go on. 
 Bless me ! how slow you are ! 
 
 Kornicker, completely staggered by the list of topics 
 which Rust enumerated, each of which was foreign to what 
 he had to say, and each of which suggested something dis 
 agreeable, stared at him for a moment or two in sore per- 
 
HARRY H ARSON. 131 
 
 plexity ; and then, instead of continuing his remarks, merely 
 shook his head, muttered something between his teeth about 
 *a hard horse to ride, and finding that blowing had not 
 assuaged the pain of his finger, had recourse to another 
 usual remedy ; and putting it in his mouth, sucked it, appa 
 rently with much satisfaction. 
 
 You do not proceed, said Rust, after waiting with an 
 air of profound attention ; I m sorry, very sorry ; for I ve no 
 doubt that I ve lost much. You shouldn t have been diffi 
 dent ; you had quite a small audience ; only two ; one of 
 them a boy, and the other an old fool, you know ; and we 
 would have made all allowance for youthful embarrassment. 
 
 Kornicker, however, had so completely altered his mind 
 that he made no other response than that of drawing his 
 finger from his mouth, with a sudden noise like the popping 
 of a cork out of a bottle ; and holding it to the light, ex 
 amined it with an air of anxious and sympathizing investi 
 gation. Having concluded his examination, he took a seat 
 at the window, and looked out in the darkness. Rust in the 
 mean time continued his remarks in the same strain ; but as 
 he went on, Mr. Kornicker began to show signs of restive- 
 ness ; shaking his head in a sudden and positive manner, as 
 if giving a sharp negative to some imaginary request ; draw 
 ing in his breath between his teeth, with a whistling sound, 
 and snuffing with extraordinary frequency and vehemence. 
 
 A pleasant prospect that ! The view from the window is 
 very picturesque, particularly by candle-light, said Rust, 
 whose eye had not been off his clerk for a moment. I think 
 it embraces a broken window and an old hat ; although you 
 may not be able to see them in this light, as they are at least 
 ten feet off. I hope you enjoy it. 
 
 4 Suppose I do ? said Kornicker, turning short round, 
 placing a fist on each knee, and looking up at Rust with aa 
 
132 HA R R Y HA RSON. 
 
 eye brimming with dogged sulkiness ; * and suppose I do n t ; 
 what then ? what concern is that of yours ? I came here to 
 do your work ; not to give an account of my thoughts or 
 tastes. 
 
 Right ! very right ! replied Rust, who saw that he had 
 pushed matters as far as was prudent ; and that any farther 
 direct attempt at annoyance might result in-open rebellion 
 upon the part of his clerk ; but at the same time it was no 
 part of his policy to appear to yield to this angry expostu 
 lation ; so he merely repeated what he had just said : Very, 
 very right, Mr. Kornicker ; provided you do my work, I care 
 not a straw for your thoughts and tastes; and I have work 
 for you, of which T will speak to you presently. 
 
 Turning to the boy, who was removing the things from 
 the table and placing them in a large basket, he asked : * Who 
 were the persons who dined here to-day ? 
 
 The boy, who at that moment was invisible with the 
 exception of the rear of his legs, and of that portion of his 
 body to which they were immediately attached the rest of 
 his person being busy at the bottom of the basket, in a 
 struggle with the remnants of the roast beef rose slowly to 
 an upright attitude, and turning round, somewhat red in the 
 face, asked if Rust were speaking to him ; and on being 
 answered in the affirmative, and the question being repeated, 
 he nodded, and said : He rather thought he ought to be, 
 and should n t be surprised to find out that he was, if waitin 
 on em, not once, nor twice, nor three times, nor four times, 
 was one of the avenues to their acquaintance. 
 
 Then you do know them ? said Rust, to whom this 
 reply was rather enigmatical. 
 
 In course I do ; all to pieces ! replied the boy. 
 
 This whole sentence, from the look and gesture which 
 accompanied it, Rust took to be a strong affirmative. 
 
HARRY H ARSON. 135 
 
 4 Who are they ? 
 
 Ax him, replied the boy, indicating Kornicker by a 
 nod of his head. But do n t you know ? My eyes ! I thought 
 you know d m all. If I did n t, I m bu st ! 
 
 Having given utterance to this elegant expression, he 
 forthwith plunged into the basket, and, with the exception 
 of his aforesaid legs, was seen no more, until Rust told him 
 to be quick, when he again emerged, with a piece of meat 
 in his mouth ; and shouldering the basket, staggered out of 
 the room, telling Rust that if he did n t shut the door him 
 self this time, he suspected it would be left open ; as he had 
 but one pair of hands, and that pair was full. 
 
 While these words were passing between Rust and the 
 boy, Kornicker sat in the window in silence ; but ever and 
 anon, turning about and fastening his eye on the feet of his 
 employer, he slowly perused him from his toes to the crown 
 of his head ; and then revised him downward to his feet, 
 with an unflinching stare, generally pausing at the eyes, with 
 an expression by no means amiable; and concluding his 
 examination by a shake of the head, accompanied by that 
 same drawing in of the breath already described. 
 
 In truth, Kornicker was gradually beginning to entertain 
 the idea of throwing himself bodily upon Rust ; of pum 
 melling and mauling him until he was a jelly ; of flinging 
 him promiscuously under the table, to keep company with 
 the blacking-brushes and a ragged coverlet which lay there ; 
 then of rushing into the street, cutting his employer, throw 
 ing himself into the arms of his absent friends, and of setting 
 up for himself from that time forth. As these dim resolu 
 tions acquired strength, he began to straighten himself, to 
 look Rust full in the face, to linger his snuff-box with vas f 
 nonchalance, to indulge a low whistle, and once or twice he 
 
134 HARRY H ARSON. 
 
 even worked his arms and shoulders backward and forward, 
 developing his strength for some unusual performance. 
 
 These and various other indications of a resuscitation of 
 spirits did not escape the quick eye of Rust, who saw that 
 he could venture no farther; and after standing for some 
 time with his arms folded, and his eyes fastened on the floor, 
 he turned to Kornicker and said, in a tone very different 
 from any which he had hitherto assumed : 
 
 * I have appeared to you to act strangely to-night, eh ? 
 
 D d if you have n t ! replied that gentleman, lacon 
 ically. 
 
 I supposed so, said Rust; but I came here harassed, 
 perhaps cornered ; as a wild beast would seek his den, for 
 quiet and repose ; and to endeavor to extricate myself from 
 troubles which are thick upon me ; and I found it the resort 
 of what? 
 
 He paused and looked at Kornicker, who, not knowing 
 exactly under what head to class the individuals who had 
 passed the afternoon there, remained perfectly silent. 
 
 1 It was not right, said Rust. It was not right ; but no 
 matter for that now. I have work on hand which must be 
 attended to at once. Bring your chair to the table. 
 
 Kornicker, in compliance with this request, and not a little 
 mollified by Rust s change of manner, dragged his chair to 
 the place designated, swung it to its feet, sat himself down 
 on it, and leaning his elbow on the table and his cheek on 
 his hand, waited for the other to open his communication. 
 
 Taking a large pocket-book from his pocket, Rust ran his 
 eye over a number of papers which were folded up in it, and 
 finally selected two, which he placed on the table in front 
 of him. 
 
 There they are, at last. Those are the ones, said he, 
 pushing them toward Kornicker. 
 
HARRY EARS ON. 135 
 
 The clerk took them up one after the other, holding an 
 end in each hand, and carefully viewed them from side to 
 side ; after which he replaced them on the table, and ob 
 served, partly by way of remark and partly in soliloquy : 
 * Two promissory notes ; Enoch Grosket, maker ; in favor of 
 Ezra Ikes, for fifteen hundred dollars each ; due six months 
 ago. 
 
 And endorsed by Ikes to Michael Rust, continued Rust, 
 taking up the phrase where Kornicker had left off. En 
 dorsed to Michael Rust ; that s me ! said Rust, looking 
 eagerly in his eyes, and pressing his thin finger on his own 
 breast : me ! 
 
 If you tell me that by way of news, you re late in the 
 day, my man, replied the other. I know that Michael Rust 
 is you, and that you are Michael Rust ; I think I ought to. 
 And for the first time in the course of that evening, Kor 
 nicker closed his eyes, and shook inwardly ; thereby indi 
 cating that he was enjoying a hearty laugh. 
 
 You will take these notes, said Rust, without paying 
 any regard either to his merriment or his observation, and 
 sue on them at once ; arrest Grosket, fling him into prison, 
 and there let him lie and rot, until his stubborn heart be 
 broken ; until he crawl to my very feet and lick the dust 
 from them. If he will not bend, why, then, muttered he, 
 setting his teeth, and his black eye dilating, let him die ; 
 his blood be upon his own head. The fool ! the vain, weak, 
 short-sighted fool ! He knew not that I had these in my 
 grasp, said he, taking up the notes and shaking them as if 
 in menace at the object of his wrath. Now let him writhe 
 in his den ; and moan, and rave, and blaspheme to the walls 
 Jiat shut him in. There is no escape. No, no ; the jail is 
 his home; the felon his room-mate; ho! ho! What a 
 glorious thing law is ! Now, then, Enoch, friend Enoch 
 
136 HARRY H ARSON. 
 
 conscientious Enoch! we ll see in whose hand the game 
 lies! 1 
 
 There is always something in the display of any fierce 
 emotion, no matter how subdued may be the manner or tone 
 it assumes, so it be connected with stern, unflinching purpose, 
 that quells all lighter feelings in others; and there was that 
 in the glowing eye of Rust, and in the convulsive working 
 of his thin features, and in the sharp, hissing tones of his 
 voice, although he spoke scarcely above a whisper, which 
 effectually banished from Kornicker all farther inclination 
 for merriment ; but at the same time he felt no great com 
 placency in being in the employ of a man who kept such 
 dark and bitter feelings garnered up in his heart. 
 
 4 Is it Enoch Grosket, the one who used to be here, you 
 want put in limbo ? inquired he, after looking in the face 
 which bent over his ; why, I thought 
 
 Think what you please, replied Rust, fiercely. I ex 
 plain my motives to no one. My instructions to you are 
 simple. Get the money for these notes from Enoch Grosket, 
 down to the last farthing. Listen to no offers of compromise ; 
 and whatever law will do toward adding wretchedness to 
 poverty, let him feel ! 
 
 Rust spoke sternly and peremptorily, too much so for his 
 own purpose; and he observed that Kornicker eyed him with 
 a look of suspicion, and once or twice shook his head, as if 
 the duty prescribed did not suit his taste. He saw that he 
 must play his card nicely ; and to allay any feeling of com 
 punction which might be gaining ground with Kornicker, 
 he said, as if speaking to himself: Much as that man 
 Grosket has wronged me ; much as he has threatened me ; 
 anxious as he now is to ruin me ; I 11 deal more fairly with 
 him than he has done with me. I 11 be open in all my 
 dealings. I 11 not stab in the dark, as he has done. He 
 
HARRY H ARSON. 137 
 
 shall know who his opponent is ; and let him cope with him 
 if he can. * Mr. Kornicker, said he, addressing his clerk, as 
 if unconscious that what he had just said had reached that 
 gentleman s ear, * be strict in conducting that matter with 
 Grosket ; but deal fairly with him. Let every proceeding 
 be such as will bear the light ; no quirking nor quibbling ; 
 no double-dealing ; no, no. Give him law ; law, only law ; 
 that s all I ask. I 11 not let anger sway my actions, what 
 ever effect it may have on my words. Did I not step in 
 between him and starvation ? Did I not lift himself and his 
 family from the very dirt ; and for five long years did I not 
 furnish the very bread which they ate; and what then? 
 The viper turned upon me and stung me ; and even now, as I 
 have recently learned, is endeavoring to thwart me in schemes 
 upon which depend all my prospects in life. Notwithstanding 
 all this, Mr. Kornicker, I now ask only justice. Other men 
 might be revengeful, and might long for his very life ; but 
 it s not so with me ! Michael Rust seeks but justice. Now, 
 Sir, what s the first step you 11 take upon those papers ? 
 said he, pointing to the notes ; how will you arrest him ? 
 
 Kornicker threw himself back in his chair, and putting 
 his fingers together at the points, and forming two hollows of 
 his hands, looked at them with an air of profound delibera 
 tion, as if selecting one out of several hundred modes of 
 commencing a suit. Having, as he supposed, duly impressed 
 Rust with the importance of the undertaking, he took his 
 snuff-box from his pocket, and having balanced it for some 
 minutes, in great absence of mind, in one hand, while with 
 equal abstraction he held a pinch of snuff between tho, thumb 
 and forefinger of the other, he replied, that he thought, 
 upon the whole, it would be advisable to commence by 
 capias ; after which he snuffed copiously. 
 How soon can you begin ? inquired Rust. 
 
138 HARRY H ARSON. 
 
 As soon as I can get a writ, replied Kornicker, dusting 
 the particles of snuff from his prominent feature with the 
 back of his hand. * A blank costs two cents. 
 
 * Begin at once ; to-night ! said Rust, pushing a handful 
 of silver to him. Have him in prison before midnight 
 Spare no expense, but carry out my views. 
 
 Why, you are quick upon the trigger, replied his clerk. 
 I can fill up the writ at once ; but it s eight o clock ; the 
 clerk s office is shut, and we can t get a seal ; so is the sher 
 iff s office, and we can t get a deputy. It won t do. We 
 must wait until to-morrow. 
 
 Time is gold now, muttered Rust, starting up. Had 
 I been warned sooner ; had that love-sick boy spoken but a 
 few hours earlier, I might have had him in my grasp. 
 While I am -here, with my hands tied by the empty forms 
 of courts and legal proceedings, Grosket is at work. Who 
 knows what a single night may bring forth ! In a single 
 night, nay, in a single hour, the schemes of a whole life might 
 be overthrown ; and with such a man as Grosket to cope 
 with, the danger is doubled. Would that I had him here ! 
 with no law to hold up its warning finger at me ; with my 
 gripe upon his throat ! Good Enoch ! my dear, best-beloved 
 Enoch ! would that I had you here ! So nothing can be 
 done until to-morrow ? said he, abruptly, turning to Kor 
 nicker, as he recollected that he was not alone ; and I must 
 Bit here, shackled, until then ? 
 
 As to the shackles, Mr. Kornicker replied, that he knew 
 nothing about them ; but as to issuing the writ before morn 
 ing, it could n t be done, that was plump ! Saying which, 
 he pushed back the money, and thrusting his hands in his 
 pockets, whistled thoughtfully. 
 
 You 11 be here early in the morning ? said Rust. 
 
HARRY H ARSON. 139 
 
 I rather think I will, replied Kornicker, * unless the 
 house should take, fire, in which case I shall withdraw. 
 
 Rust looked at him for an explanation, which Kornicker 
 immediately gave by pointing to the coverlet under the 
 table, and informing him that they were then in his bed 
 chamber ; at the same time volunteering the information 
 that during the day the bed itself was placed in a spare 
 room in the garret, occupied only by a cat and her family ; 
 which said cat and family were a source of much annoyance 
 to him, from their being addicted to sleeping on his bed 
 during the whole time that it was not occupied for the same 
 purpose by himself. Cats had n t fleas ; there was some 
 comfort in that. If it had been a dog and family, he should 
 have resisted strenuously. 
 
 Rust, at the conclusion of his observations, turning to him, 
 merely said : * If nothing can be done here, I must be at work 
 where my time will not be lost. I shall expect you to be 
 ready early in the morning. Good-night ! 
 
 At an early hour on the following day, Mr. Kornicker 
 sallied out of his office, and bent his steps toward the City 
 Hall, bearing in his hand a small slip of printed paper, 
 whereby the Sheriff of the City and County of New- York 
 was commanded by the People of the State of New-York to 
 take the body of Enoch Grosket, defendant, if he should be 
 found in his bailiwick, and him safely keep, and to have 
 him before the Judges of the Supreme Court on a certain 
 day and at a certain place, to answer unto Michael Rust, 
 plaintiff, for the non-performance of certain promises and 
 undertakings, etc., to the damage of the said plaintiff of 
 three thousand dollars. And on the back of the same paper 
 was a small memorandum, containing a hint to the said 
 sheriff to hold the defendant to bail in six thousand dollars. 
 
 Thus armed and equipped according to law, Mr. Kornicker 
 
140 HARRY HA R $ X. 
 
 presented himself at the sanctum of that officer. It was a 
 small room, with a partition a few feet high thrown across 
 it, to shield the sanctity of the magistrate and his deputies 
 from contaminating contact with the rabble members of the 
 bar. Behind this partition was a sloping desk, on which lay 
 a number of large ledgers; and looking over one of these, 
 stood a stoutish man, with a ronnd, full face, thin whiskers, 
 and an aquiline nose. He had a gold chain hanging over 
 his vest, and there was not a little pretension in the cut of 
 his garments. As Mr. Kornicker entered, he put his pen in 
 his mouth, paused in his employment, and looked at him 
 over the partition. 
 
 Here s a gentleman whose flint wants fixing, said 
 Kornicker, handing him the writ. I want it done at once. 
 Screw him tight. 
 
 The man nodded ; and taking the paper, after glancing at 
 it, turned to a person who sat behind the partition, invisible 
 to Kornicker, and said : * Mr. Kipe, can t you do this ? 
 
 Mr. Kipe rose up; a mild man, six feet high, surmounted 
 by a broad-brimmed hat, from beneath which straggled a 
 few locks of hair, which had once been iron-gray, but which 
 were now fast verging toward white. His nose was bulbous, 
 being neither Roman nor pug ; his eyes dark, and paternal 
 in their expression ; his neck was buried in the folds of a 
 white cravat ; and in his hand he carried a cane, probably 
 for the combined purposes of self-aid and self-defence. 
 
 Fixing his hat more securely on his head, and placing his 
 cane under his arm, he drew from his pocket a small leathern 
 case, containing his spectacles ; and having placed them on 
 his nose, and adjusted and readjusted them several times, he 
 proceeded to peruse the document submitted to his inspec 
 tion. Having completed this, he gently inquired if Grosket 
 lived a great way off; and being informed that he did not, 
 
HARRY H ARSON. 141 
 
 nc said, he rather thought he d like the job. This conclu 
 sion having been -happily reached, the man with a Roman 
 nose entered the writ in one of the ledgers which lay in front 
 of him, after which Mr. Kipe placed it in a large pocket-book, 
 in company with about a dozen documents of the same 
 description, and looking affectionately at his collection, he 
 shook his head with a melancholy smile, and said : 
 
 * Folks is beginning to talk of abolishing imprisonment for 
 debt. It s an innivation as will bring no good ; and it s 
 the hardest-hearted proceeding agin us deputies as has been 
 done yet. It 11 use us all up. Forty year I Ve been a 
 deputy, and never heerd of the like of it afore ; never ! never ! 
 Arter this, rascals will be gentlemen, and deputies will be 
 beggars ! Ah ! 
 
142 HARRY H ARSON. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 A SAD blow was this quarrel between her father and Ned 
 Sotners, to Kate Rhoneland ; for so fierce and bitter was the 
 anger of the old man, whenever he was alluded to, and so 
 opprobrious were the epithets which he showered upon him, 
 that at last his name was never mentioned between them. 
 But had Kate forgotten him ? or had she forgotten the day 
 on which he had met her in the street, and had turned 
 about, and had walked at her side ; and had, among other 
 things, told her that he loved her more than all the world 
 beside ? Or had she forgotten how she had uttered a few 
 words in reply ; but how, or what they were, she knew not ; 
 except that they made his eyes grow bright with smiles, as 
 he whispered in her ear that she was * his own dear little 
 Kate, and made him very happy ; and that they had loi 
 tered on, hour after hour, quite forgetting that she had any 
 where to go, or any thing to do, or any thing to speak of, or 
 think of ; or that there was any one else in the wide world 
 but themselves ? No, no. Kate had forgotten none of these 
 things. A happy day was that ! They had talked over oc 
 currences which had taken place long before. They had 
 explained away trifling difficulties and misunderstandings, 
 which had been the source of much thought and anxiety to 
 both ; and which (although Kate did not confess thus much) 
 had often caused her eyes to fill with tears, when she was 
 alone, and there were none to see her ; and which accounted 
 for the bright drops which her father had sometimes discov 
 ered on her cheek as she lay asleep, when he came to take 
 
HARRY HARSON. 143 
 
 a last look at her, at night ; and which had caused him to 
 ponder and dream until he forgot them amid his own 
 troubles. Thus was that day spent ; a green spot in mem 
 ory. Through quiet, out-of-the-way streets, they took their 
 way ; through quarters which the bustle of the world never 
 reached, and where the rumbling of the city was heard only 
 in the distance, like the hum of a mighty hive ; beneath tall 
 trees with their long branches drooping to the earth, as if to 
 protect the soil which made them so great and beautiful as 
 they were ; and their deep-green leaves, now glittering with 
 sunlight, now dark in shadow, hanging motionless, or quiv 
 ering on their slender stems, with a scarcely audible sound, 
 as if whispering to each other ; and through the thick foliage 
 were glimpses of the blue sky, with here and there a fleecy 
 cloud loitering on its broad bosom, like a sail at sea ; while 
 beneath, the earth was checkered with a mosaic of light and 
 shadow. Who can tell the happiness of those young hearts 
 on that day ? Who can tell why sky and earth seemed so 
 beautiful ; and even the faded old houses about them, pent 
 up in dim streets, with great trees nodding over them liki 
 dozing sentinels, seemed to wear a gay, glad look ? 
 
 How much they had to say ! And yet, when it was said, 
 and they had parted, and Kate was recalling it to mind in 
 her own room, how little there was in it ! How familiarly 
 she had leaned on his arm, as if she had known him from 
 childhood ! and how fondly he looked down ?n her face ! and 
 how strange it seemed to call him Ned, when she had 
 never before addressed him except as Mr. Somers ! Yet 
 Ned sounded better ; much better than Mr. Somers ; and 
 so did Kate than Miss Rhoneland. Poor little Kate ! 
 There was much food for thought in all that had passed that 
 day ; much food for happy thought. All that had occurred 
 was dreamed over ; and never had time flown by so rapidly. 
 
144 HARRY II ARSON. 
 
 How surprised she had been, on hearing a clock striking the 
 hour, to discover that he and she had been walking for four 
 long hours, and that Ned, like a downright vagabond, as he 
 was, and as she told him he was, had contrived (she of course 
 not being aware of the matter) to get her at the longest pos 
 sible distance from home ; so that when they returned, it 
 took them a good hour to get back ; nor did he even then, 
 as she shrewdly suspected, select the most direct course ; but 
 as she was not certain on this point, she said nothing about 
 it ; but merely told him * that she would be careful the next 
 time she trusted herself to his guidance ; which no doubt 
 she was. 
 
 Well ! the happiest day in our lives must have an end ; 
 and that day, which certainly was the happiest clay in the 
 life of Kate, at last came to an end ; and Ned Somers was 
 gone, having escorted her to the door and even into the 
 entry, from which, however, he retreated with some pre 
 cipitancy on discovering that he had inadvertently, for the 
 first time in his life, pressed his lips to hers, and that if 
 he remained there, the same inadvertent offence might be 
 repeated to an indefinite extent ; an occurrence which, of 
 course, under present circumstances, could not fail to be in 
 the highest degree lacerating to the feelings of both. 
 
 She never spoke to her father about what Ned had said ; 
 for Ned had told her that he did not wish to ask her of him 
 until he could look him in the face, and tell him * that he 
 could support her as she always had been accustomed to 
 live ; and that it was his daughter, and his daughter 
 only, that he asked. He told her, too, that that time would 
 come soon, and that they were both young, (for Kate was 
 then barely sixteen ;) and Kate had said, * Oh yes, entirely 
 too young to get married, although Somers had differed 
 from her on that score ; but from that day forth, Ned hnd 
 
HARRY EAR SON. 145 
 
 constantly been at the house at all hours, until ho was re 
 garded as one of themselves, and grew to be almost as great 
 a favorite with the old man as with Kate herself ; and both 
 looked hopefully forward to the time when Ned s prospects, 
 which were already brightening fast, should be firmly estab 
 lished. 
 
 Things had gone on thus until Michael Rust came ; and 
 with him came a change in all else. There was evidently 
 something between him and Rhoneland, hidden from all 
 others, which had a powerful influence upon the latter, who 
 more than once spoke to Kate of their new guest, inculcating 
 % upon her respect and deference to him. At other times the 
 old man spoke to her of observing a strict economy ; of 
 saving every farthing, to lay it up in case of need, speaking 
 of gold as if it were omnipotent, and seeming to gloat over 
 it with a miser s hunger ; yet such had never been his dis 
 position until Michael Rust came. But that was not all; 
 for, although it would almost have broken her heart to see 
 the fine-souled old man which her father always had been, 
 sinking down into a mere machine for hoarding dollars, with 
 no other instinct or aim in life ; it was not that which lay 
 heaviest at her heart. From what had dropped from him 
 at intervals, she knew that there was a stronger bond be 
 tween him and Rust than the mere obsequiousness which 
 avarice pays to wealth. There was the quick, restless motion 
 of the body when Rust s name was mentioned ; the watch 
 ful, irresolute glance of the eye ; ever ready to detect his 
 slightest motion, like that of one ever in fear, and ever on 
 his guard against attack. There was the nervous, anxious 
 desire to propitiate, to remove any thing which might give 
 offence ; and yet unaccompanied by any of those tokens of 
 goodwill which indicate that these acts spring from the 
 heart and not from the fears ; all showing that the tie which 
 
!46 HARRY EARS ON. 
 
 connected them was not one of love on the part of Rhone 
 land. 
 
 At last Rust, who for a long time had troubled himselt 
 about no one but Rhoneland, seemed to discover that he had 
 a daughter, and that that daughter was exceedingly beauti 
 ful, and that the old man doated on her. He also discovered 
 that a certain young man by the name of Edward Somers 
 came to the house frequently ; much more frequently than 
 was proper for a young man not connected with the family, 
 and not having any thing in particular to bring him there. 
 Having made this discovery, and thinking it desirable to get 
 Somers out of the way, he set to work to attack his charac 
 ter ; not openly, but in that most assassin-like of all modes, 
 by throwing out inuendoes, and by repealing rumors which 
 he had heard, but which of course he did not believe, and 
 which he mentioned only that his friend Jacob might know 
 what absurd stories were afloat. They were never repeated 
 in the presence of Kate, bu f . to the old man when he and 
 Rust were alone. Rhone] nd, however, stood out stoutly for 
 his young friend. He said, * that the reports were lies, and 
 he did not believe them. Neither did Rust. He was as 
 tonished that people would circulate such tales; for Ned 
 was a fine, frank, open-hearted fellow, although he must con 
 fess that he had not liked Ned at first, for he thought he had 
 a * down look, (which, by the way, was rather remarkable, 
 as Ned always held his head peculiarly erect, as if to look 
 all the world in the face.) Rust, however, kept at work, 
 rasping, and rubbing, and picking away at Ned s character ; 
 inventing a thousand things which had never happened, and 
 whispering to the old man, under promises of secrecy, re 
 marks which Ned had made of him, which were not very 
 respectful, and which Rust was surprised (considering what 
 a fine fellow Ned was) that Ned should make. His success, 
 
HARRY EAR SON. 147 
 
 however, in sowing suspicion was not very great, until the 
 conversation with Harson opened Rhone] and s eyes for the 
 first time to a fact which he had never before suspected; 
 that Ned s visits were paid to his daughter ; and that his 
 child had given her affections to him. On the heels of that 
 came the encounter with Michael Rust, and his insinuations, 
 that Ned was hovering round his daughter with the purpose 
 of decoying her from him, and deserting her when there was 
 no hope left for her but the grave. 
 
 It was no wonder then that when Somers was driven from 
 the house, the old man hugged his daughter in his arms, and 
 wept over her, and kissed her fair forehead, and pressed her 
 face to his bosom, and rested his cheek upon her head, while 
 his whole frame shook with heavy sobs of mingled joy and 
 indignation ; nor that he kept near her the whole of that 
 clay, scarcely suffering her to quit his sight, locking the house- 
 door, and always opening it himself when there was a knock, 
 lest it should be Somers, returning to lure his child from him. 
 Over and over again he begged her not to leave him ; con 
 juring her not to see Somers again, and telling her that Ned 
 was a scoundrel, and that .the only mode of saving herself 
 from destruction was by never meeting him again. 
 
 And did Kate never see Somers again ? But once and 
 only once. She knew that her father wronged him. She 
 knew how long and patiently he had been waiting and work 
 ing for her. She knew too that Michael Rust had his own 
 designs upon her ; for Michael Rust s admiration was too 
 undisguised, and his speech too devoid of conoealment, to 
 leave her in doubt. She knew too, although he had stu 
 diously concealed it from her, that he was Ned s enemy, and 
 she strongly suspected that he was at the bottom of the 
 trouble between Ned and her father. She knew all this, 
 and she thought it but right that Ned should know it too ; 
 for she had hitherto concealed much that had passed between 
 
148 HARRY H ARSON. 
 
 Rust and herself, lest it should lead to difficulties between 
 Somers and her father s guest. But nothing was to be 
 gained by concealment now ; and she felt, that to see Somers, 
 to tell him all that she knew, all that she had seen, all that 
 she had heard, and all that she suspected, was but her duty, 
 and that to refrain from doing so would be very, very wrong. 
 If she erred, it was an error which many will forgive. 
 
 And under this conviction, she met him again, with her 
 young heart full almost to bursting. She told him every 
 thing that she knew or suspected of Rust, and his plans with 
 reference to herself; she begged him to watch him ; but 
 above all, to incur no risk himself. She told him too that 
 he and she must meet no more ; but she assured him, what 
 ever others might say, or do, or think, that she believed not 
 the slanders circulated against him ; that she loved him still ; 
 that in her heart of hearts he was still the same to her that 
 he always had been ; and that he ever would be, until that 
 heart ceased to beat. She said this, and she said a thousand 
 times more, for she was meeting him with the full resolve 
 to meet him no more without her father s consent ; with the 
 full knowledge that their parting must be at all events a 
 long one, perhaps a final one. 
 
 They went over the same spots which they had lingered 
 over in happier hours ; the same out-of-the-way haunts, where 
 there were few to observe them ; under the same old trees 
 which stretched out their long branches, now naked and strip 
 ped of foliage ; along the same bye-streets through which they 
 had loitered on the day when he first learned that she loved 
 him. They spoke but little ; for all that Ned could do was 
 to assert that the tales which had been repeated to her father 
 were false ; to breathe forth vengeance against the slanderer, 
 and to suggest the propriety of belaboring Rust soundly, and 
 running the risk of the flogging falling on the right shoulders. 
 
HARRY H ARSON. 149 
 
 And all that Kate could say in return was to repeat her full 
 belief that Ned was all that she had supposed and wished him 
 to be. 
 
 Thus the day lingered on, and the time came for parting. 
 They said but little, for there were no bright prospects to 
 cheer them on : a few words of encouragement faintly 
 spoken, for their hearts whispered that they were vain ; a few 
 broken words of hope, uttered in so sad a tone that they 
 seemed a mockery ; a stifled God bless you, Kate ! as he 
 pressed her to his heart ; a Good-bye, Ned, half sobbed, 
 and they parted ; and Kate hurried to her own room, and 
 hiding her face in her hands, wept the bitterest tears that 
 she had ever shed. But the agony was over ; and now she 
 told her father that they had met; and why; and that they 
 were to meet no more until he could vindicate himself. The 
 old man heard her out, contrary to her expectations, with 
 out an expression of anger, and merely said, that it was 
 very well ; that she did right to see him no more ; and that 
 was all. 
 
150 HA RRY II A US N. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 AT about eleven o clock on a fine day, a tall elderly man, 
 habited in a long-skirted blue overcoat, with a broad-brim 
 med hat on his head, his neck enveloped in. the ample folds 
 of a white cravat, the ends of which toyed pleasantly with 
 the morning air ; and having in his hand a cane, whose top 
 was carved in a miniature likeness of a dog with a melan 
 choly countenance, slowly descended the precipitous flight of 
 stone steps which form the rear mode of egress from the 
 City Hall. Having safely reached the foot of them, the 
 elderly gentleman paused, rubbed one hand gently over the 
 other, as if congratulating himself that one of the perils of 
 the day was over, and then walked out into the Park, and 
 deliberately set his watch by the town-clock. Being a cau 
 tious man, however, and one who piqued himself on doing 
 every thing better than any one else, and upon being always 
 right when all the rest of the world was wrong, and on being 
 in general superior to the ordinary run of mankind ; and 
 being aware that the town-clock had four faces, which always 
 differed in opinion as to the hour ; and being too knowing to 
 be taken in by any small trick of that kind, he winked to 
 himself, and took the pains to make the circuit of the build 
 ing, and successively to inspect each face of the aforesaid 
 public time-keeper ; and having ascertained that the majority 
 was with the one which he had first consulted, he pulled his 
 waistcoat very high up in front, and dropped his watch into 
 a small pocket in the waistband of his trowsers. After 
 which, he buttoned his coat and set about his day s work 
 with no little complacency and good-humor. 
 
HA RRY HA R SON. 151 
 
 The direction which he took led to one of the poorer 
 parts of the town ; and although he walked slowly, it was 
 not long before he was in the thick of those narrow, ill- 
 ventilated streets, hemmed in by decaying houses and reek 
 ing cellars, which proclaim, plainer than words, that vice and 
 want, and a thousand other ills which canker the heart, and 
 eat up all that is noble in human nature, are lurking in their 
 dark recesses. 
 
 Mr. Kipe, for he it was, paused in front of one of the dim 
 holes where a dozen wretched beings, ill clad and ill fed, 
 were herding together, and wondered why they would live in 
 such places ; and why they did not pay more attention to their 
 dress ; for some of them were half naked. It s quite in 
 delicate ! said he, mentally. * Mrs. Kipe would faint if she 
 saw it. I declare, I won t be positive no, yes no ; yet 
 I do think one of them is a woman ; I really do think that 
 rag is meant for a petticoat. It must be a woman, said he, 
 continuing his investigations in a cautious manner. * It is a 
 woman. Ah ! it s agin natur . 
 
 There was no doubt of the truth of his suspicion ; half of 
 them were females. Squatting and crouching there, they 
 raised their blear eyes toward him in sullen indifference ; too 
 miserably wretched to heed or resent the look of disgust and 
 surprise which met theirs, other than by a heartless laugh or 
 a ribald jest ; too callous to feel, and too broken down in 
 body and soul to taunt. The deputy-sheriff shook his head : 
 for although he had often been amid scenes where the strong 
 heart was wrung ; where the debtor, ground down by cre 
 ditors with hearts of flint and eyes greedy of gold, was 
 struggling beneath the fangs of the law, and crying for 
 indulgence and mercy ; although he had seen the calm, pale 
 look of despair ; the silent but resolute face of the man who 
 had parted with his all, and finally yielded his body for the 
 
152 HARRY H ARSON. 
 
 gold which he could not pay ; and the wife clasping his neck, 
 and his children clinging to him ; ay, actually showing marks 
 of affection to a man who was penniless ; yet he had rarely 
 encountered a den like this. He had only witnessed suffering 
 and despair in their first stages. Had he desired to see the 
 human soul when hope had darkened into desperation ; when 
 friends had fallen off, or, less painful than that, had died ; 
 when the body had been wasted, and the blood dried up, and 
 yet had yielded no gold ; when even that untiring thing, a cre 
 ditor, had grown weary of his prey, and had flung his victim 
 adrift, to find none to sympathise, no path open, no home 
 left, and even hope dead ; he should have lingered a little 
 longer; and in common with the born thief, the hardened 
 courtesan, the reeling drunkard, and the savage brawler, he 
 would have found those whom the sun of prosperity had 
 once warmed, and who once had little dreamed in what foul 
 haunts they would linger out the remnant of life which was 
 yet in store for them. 
 
 Mr. Kipe, however, having already expressed his opinion, 
 merely shook his head disapprovingly, on concluding his 
 investigation, and said nothing, but kept on, now turning 
 from one narrow street into another ; at one time stumbling 
 along broken pavements and dilapidated steps ; at another 
 half stifled with the exhalations which steamed up from 
 reeking kennels and under-ground dwellings, until he finally 
 emerged into a broader street. Still* the dwellings were of a 
 poor character. Stopping in front of one of these, he drew 
 out his pocket-book, took from it a small slip of paper, looked 
 at it, then at the house ; coughed several times ; cleared his 
 throat emphatically ; fixed his hat firmly on his head ; 
 buttoned his coat to the chin, placed his cane under his left 
 arm, and grasping the small paper firmly in his right hand, 
 like one preparing for a mortal struggle, precipitated himself 
 
HARRY H ARSON. 153 
 
 headlong into a dark alley. Stumbling over a broken pail 
 and a few of the minor articles of a domestic description 
 which usually beset benighted alleys and dim stairways, the 
 sheriff s deputy finally caught sight of daylight in a small 
 yard to which the passage led, and found himself at the 
 door of a dilapidated house. 
 
 It was a small faded building, two stones high, sinking 
 and crumbling away, like a person weak in the side. Nar 
 row windows, cracked and dust-covered, looked out into the 
 dark yard. A broken flower-pot stood on a window-sill, 
 with a stunted bush in it, bearing a single yellow leaf; and 
 in another was a half-starved shrub bearing a drooping 
 flower. On the roof, which abutted on other roofs, and was 
 overlooked by tall buildings, a lean cat was dozing in the 
 sun, as if endeavoring to forget hunger in sleep. Every 
 thing bore the stamp of starvation. The windows were 
 patched with rags or pieces of paper; the bricks from 
 ruined chimneys had toppled down, and were lying in mass 
 es on the roof; there were great gaping seams between the 
 boards, showing the plaster within ; the door had sagged 
 away, and the shutters of more than one window hung by a 
 single hinge. On the door-steps a child was sleeping, and 
 from a narrow window a thin face peeped cautiously out, 
 wondering what a stranger could want in that dreary 
 quarter. 
 
 The sheriff s .deputy, however, was familiar with the 
 ground. He was in the habit of fishing in troubled waters ; 
 and it was not the first time that he had drawn from this 
 very place food for the gaol. 
 
 Without asking a question, he quietly stepped over the 
 sleeping child, and stooping as he entered, to prevent his hat 
 coming in contact with the top of the low door-way, he 
 ascended a crooked staircase, carefully picking his way; 
 
154 HARRY HARSON. 
 
 grumbling at its inconvenient formation, and indulging a few 
 mental anathemas against old houses in general. At the 
 head of the stairs a door was ajar ; and without knocking, 
 he pushed it open, entered, and shut it ; standing ready to 
 place his back against it, in case he should observe any indi 
 cation of an attempt on the part of the occupant to escape. 
 This precaution, however, was unnecessary ; for the only 
 person there was a man of about forty, with a stern, resolute- 
 face, a sharp, gray eye, and strongly built, who was writing 
 at a table, which, with the exception of a bed in a corner, 
 and two chairs, constituted the entire furniture of the room. 
 He merely looked up as his visitor entered, and without 
 removing his eyes from him, said : 
 
 Methinks that common courtesy entitles a man to a 
 knock at his door before his room is entered. Though per 
 haps, he added, bitterly, * the owner of such quarters as 
 these is only entitled to courtesy according to his means. 
 
 To neither of these remarks did Mr. Kipe make any 
 reply ; but gradually sidling up to the speaker, until he 
 came within arm s length, he tapped him on the shoulder, 
 and said : 
 
 4 1 arrest you, Sir. It s a very onpleasant duty ; but it is 
 a duty, and must be done. Here s the writ. 
 
 The man eyed him for a moment, apparently meditating 
 what course to pursue ; while Mr. Kipe grasped the head of 
 the dog on his cane, and assumed an air of desperate deter 
 mination. At last the man took the paper from his hand, 
 and read it through, without moving or speaking, although 
 his face became somewhat flushed, as he read. Then he 
 merely uttered the words, Michael Rust ! 
 
 He s the plaintiff, said Mr. Kipe, and you are the de 
 fendant, Enoch Grosket. It s onpleasant, Sir, quite onplea- 
 aant ; but I m a deputy-sheriff, Sir ; and you re a defendant ; 
 
HARRY H ARSON. 155 
 
 and here s the writ ; and duty must be done. That s the 
 long and short of it. 
 
 * So this is the end of the game, said Grosket to himself ; 
 1 this the reward of five years of servitude, the most vile and 
 degraded that ever bound man to his fellow-man. A noble 
 harvest have I reaped for the seed that I have sown ! a 
 glorious close to my labors ! But it is what I might have 
 looked for. Ah ! Michael Rust ! well have you carried out 
 your schemes ! a pleasant part have you played in my 
 family ! You have sent child and wife both to their graves; 
 the one dishonored, the other broken-hearted ; and now, a 
 prison for the father. Be it so, Michael Rust ; but the game 
 is not yours yet. If you win it, it must be at the cost of a 
 struggle which will rack all your sinews. I do not under 
 stand this claim, said he, in a musing tone ; "three thousand 
 dollars ! I owe him nothing. What can it be ? Edward 
 Kornicker, attorney. Who s he ? he asked, raising his 
 eyes from the paper to those of Mr. Kipe. * I never heard 
 of him. 
 
 Mr. Kipe drew down the corners of his mouih, and smiled ; 
 at the same time saying, that Mr. Kornicker was a young 
 man of some merit, but rather wild a little wild. 
 
 Having said this, he took a seat in the vacant chair, and 
 placed his hat on the table ; at the same time telling Mr. 
 Grosket that if he had any bail to offer, he would go with 
 him in search of it. If he had n t, he would be under the 
 less pleasant necessity of escorting him to jail ; and in either 
 ease, that he, the said Mr. Kipe, being a public functionary, 
 and much pressed by business, would take it as a personal 
 favor if Mr. Grosket would hasten his movements as much 
 as possible. 
 
 Grosket shook his head despairingly. 
 
 * No, said he ; * the sum is too large six thousand dol 
 
156 HARRY U ARSON. 
 
 lars ! I know no one who will become bail for me in such 
 an amount. Had it come but a day later, one single day 
 later, said he, clasping his hands tightly together, * he, not /, 
 would have been the victim ! 
 
 Well, Sir, said Mr. Kipe, * there being no bail, in course 
 there is no alternative. You must go to gaol ; rooms small, 
 but well ventilated. You 11 find yourself very comfortable 
 there arter a fortnight or so. There is folks that quite like 
 the place. 
 
 Grosket made no reply to this comforting remark ; but 
 stood with his hand resting on the table, and his brows knit 
 in deep thought. At last he said, as if coming to some sud 
 den resolution : 
 
 At least, it s worth the trial. I am working for him, 
 and if I fail, I shall be no worse off than I now am. Come,> 
 said he ; I know a man who I think will became bail for 
 me. If he do n t if he do n t, said he in an under-tone 
 Well, well, I ll try it. 
 
 Who is he ? inquired Mr. Kipe, cautiously. 
 
 No matter, replied Grosket ; you 11 see presently. 
 
 Mr. Kipe felt far from satisfied with this reply. It had 
 the appearance of evasion ; and a vague apprehension of, 
 receiving no other bail than that cheap and convenient kind, 
 generally known as leg-bail, flitted across his imagination, 
 puzzling him not a little ; for Grosket was a brawny fellow, 
 whose thews and sinews were not to be trifled with. Mr. 
 Kipe thought that he was in a crisis ; and was beginning 
 to deliberate seriously on the propriety of raising a hue-and- 
 cry on the spot, without waiting for further indication of a 
 disposition to escape, when the prisoner, apparently observ 
 ing his perplexity, cut it short by adding : 
 
 Do n t be frightened, my old fellow ; I m acting in good 
 
HARRY HARSON. 157 
 
 faith. If I do n t get bail, I 11 go with you as quietly as you 
 could wish. 
 
 And you are out-and-out in earnest ? You mean to get 
 it ? No gammon, is there ? 
 
 " I 11 get it if I can : if I can t, I m your prisoner. I 11 
 play you no tricks. 
 
 * Good ! ejaculated the deputy-sheriff, quietly pocketing 
 his writ, and placing his hat on his head. I m your man 
 now : which way do you want to go ? J 
 
 Grosket named the direction ; and in a few moments they 
 were on their way to Jacob Rhoneland s. 
 
158 HARRY HARSON. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 FOR a long time Enoch Grosket and the sheriff s deputy 
 walked on without exchanging a word ; but as they proceeded, 
 Grosket s brow began to darken, his lips were firmly set to 
 gether, and his pace quickened until his companion could 
 scarcely keep up with him. 
 
 Come on, Sir, said Enoch, abruptly turning to him. 
 Michael Rust is the Devil, but he has driven to desperation 
 one whom he has drilled in all his ways, and who has had 
 a hand in all his doings for years. Would to God he could 
 say they were all what they should have been ! Let him 
 look to himself. He may chain the body, but my tongue 
 shall speak. Ah ! Michael Rust ! Michael Rust ! you were 
 never nearer destruction than when you thought me in your 
 power ! 
 
 His speed soon increased to such a degree, that although 
 Mr. Kipe had apparently been constituted with an especial 
 eye to rapid locomotion, yet that gentleman s lower members 
 were kept at their full stretch. Once or twice the deputy 
 suggested to his companion that the day was warm for the 
 season, and that he had been more active twenty years ago ; 
 to both of which remarks Grosket assented, without in the 
 least diminishing his speed ; nor did he pause to draw breath 
 until they had reached Rhoneland s house. 
 
 This is the place, said Grosket. * If he s wise, he 11 not 
 refuse me. 
 
 He knocked at the door, which was opened by Kate. She 
 knew neither of them ; and in reply to his question, informed 
 him that her father was at home. Grosket paused for a 
 
HARRY EARS ON. 159 
 
 moment as his eye rested on her bright face ; and some 
 thing like a tear rose in it, as he thought of his own lost 
 child ; but he checked the feeling which induced it, and turn 
 ing, said : 
 
 * So you re his daughter ? 
 
 His only child, replied Kate, anxiously. 
 
 4 Poor child ! muttered Grosket ; God help her ! 
 
 He muttered this rather to himself than to her, and passed 
 in ; but neither his manner nor the words, low as was the 
 tone in which they were spoken, escaped her ; and with a 
 heart sinking with apprehension of she knew not what for 
 the appearance of any stranger at the house filled her with 
 dread now she admitted him into the room where her father 
 was. 
 
 It was the same poorly-furnished apartment in which the 
 old man was when first introduced to the reader. He occu 
 pied the same seat, and sat almost in the same attitude, with 
 his hands clasped over his knees, his chin bowed down on 
 his breast, his dark eyes peering from beneath his shaggy 
 white brows, and apparently watching the crumbling embers 
 in the fire-place. His face was wan and haggard, even be 
 yond its wont ; and he had a watchful, suspicious look, which 
 was not natural to him. As the door opened, he started, 
 glanced quickly at the strangers, then at his daughter, as if 
 she and they were in some manner associated in his mind. 
 
 Do n t go, Kate ! do n t go ! I want you here, said he, 
 in a quick, anxious tone, seeing that she was closing the 
 door without entering ; * do n t go, my child. Our business 
 is no secret. 
 
 As he said this, he cast an inquiring look at the two, to 
 ascertain that he was correct, and pointed with a hesitating 
 finger to a chair. 
 
 Mr. Kipe bowed gratefully, took it immediately, removed 
 
160 HARRY H ARSON. 
 
 his hat, placed his cane between his knees, ran his fingers 
 through his hair, and looked up at the ceiling, after the 
 manner of persons who are occasionally present at interviews 
 in which they have no concern, and in which they have no 
 intention of meddling. 
 
 Grosket, however, stood where he was, with his hat on, 
 looking steadily in the agitated face of the old man. At last 
 he said : 
 
 * So you do n t know me ? 
 
 Rhoneland eyed him for a long time ; at last he shook his 
 head. 
 
 * Yet you ought to, said Grosket, in the same tone. Look 
 at me again. 
 
 Again the old man bent his eyes upon his face, and studied 
 his features ; and certainly they were not of a character to 
 be easily forgotten ; but again he was at fault ; he did not 
 know him. 
 
 * It is strange ! muttered the other ; a friend is often 
 forgotten, but an enemy rarely. My name is Grosket 
 Enoch Grosket. 
 
 A bright flush passed over the old man s face as he heard 
 the name, and he half rose from his chair. * Yes, yes, said 
 he, quickly ; * I know now ; the friend of Michael Rust. 
 Kate, said he, suddenly turning to the girl, who was leaning 
 over his chair; you can go go, Kate ; leave the room, 
 my child. This is only a friend of Mr. Rust s. 
 
 It s scarcely worth while, said Grosket, * for what I have 
 to say of Rust will soon be spoken in the open day ; ay, in 
 his teeth will I fling my charges ; before the whole world 
 will I make them ; I will brand him with a mark that he 
 will carry to his grave ! No, no, Jacob Rhoneland. I m 
 not a friend of Michael Rust, and he 11 find it so. I ve too 
 many wrongs to settle with him, for that. 
 
 * Not a friend of his ! ejaculated Rhoneland : * then what 
 
HARRY HARSON. 161 
 
 brings you here ? Do n t you know that I am his friend ? 
 an old friend ? He calls me his best friend. 
 
 Grosket s lip curled, as he answered : 
 
 -That friendship has lasted too long for the good of one 
 of you. I need not mention who that one is. I am come 
 to end it. He was my friend once. God save me from 
 another like him ! God ! how he loved me ! said he, set 
 ting his teeth ; and in return, added he, in a cold tone, 
 * do n t I love him ? Such a love ! Give me but life 
 and liberty, life and liberty, said he, dropping his assumed 
 tone, and breaking out in a burst of fierce vehemence, * and 
 by every hope that man can have, I swear to crush him ; 
 to grind him to the earth, body and soul ; to blight him as 
 he has blighted others ; and, as far as man can do so, to thwart 
 every scheme, wither every hope, and to make him drag out 
 his life, a vile, spurned, detested object, hated by man, driven 
 from the pale of society, with every transgression stamped 
 upon him, and beyond redemption in this world ! What his 
 prospects may be hereafter, none can tell but HE. He raised 
 his hat reverently as he spoke, and his tone, from high 
 excitement, calmed into deep solemnity. 
 
 My errand here, said he, turning to Rhoneland, is sim 
 ple ; my story a short one. I was Michael Rust s friend 
 his tool, if you will. Through his agency I am a beggar, 
 and my wife and child are in their graves. This did not 
 satisfy him. I am now arrested at his suit for a debt of 
 three thousand dollars. I cannot pay it. I have not that 
 sum in the world ; but I cannot go to prison. It would 
 frustrate all my views. I must be at large to work. Let 
 me have but a month of freedom, and Michael Rust will 
 be glad to exonerate me from all claims, and to beg me on 
 his knees to stand his friend. I am come to ask you to be 
 my bail. The sum is six thousand dollars. 
 
 * Me ! me ! exclaimed Rhoneland ; * I your bail ! and 
 
162 HARRY H ARSON. 
 
 against Michael Rust ! my friend Rust ! Oh, no ; never, 
 never ! 
 
 It s more for your interest than mine, replied Grosket, 
 calmly. If you do not, you 11 repent it. 
 
 Rboneland twisted his fingers together, and looked irreso 
 lutely at his daughter, and at the deputy, and then at Gros 
 ket, as if seeking counsel in their faces. At last he said, in 
 a querulous tone : 
 
 You re a stranger to me. I do n t know you. Why jdo 
 you speak in riddles ? Why do you come here to harass a 
 broken-down old man ? What do you mean ? 
 
 I mean this] replied Grosket : Michael Rust is your 
 friend because you dare not be his enemy. You love him 
 because you dare not hate him. You would think it the 
 brightest day of your life when he left your door to darken 
 it no more. He has a hold on your fears, which he will 
 make the means of ruin to you, and of wretchedness to those 
 dearer to you than yourself. I speak of her] said he, seeing 
 the old man looking timidly at Kate, who still hung over 
 his chair, pale as death, but listening to every word. I 
 know his secrets, the tools with which he works ; the very 
 falsehood which he has fabricated against you, which you 
 cannot disprove, but which / can. 
 
 Falsehood ! ejaculated Rhoneland. 
 
 Yes, falsehood. The time is come when, even with you, 
 he must stand revealed in his true character. 
 
 He stepped close to Rhoneland and whispered a few words 
 in his ear. The old man sank back in his chair, his jaw re 
 laxed, and his eyes half started from his head. His pros 
 tration lasted but for a moment. The next instant he started 
 up, made a step toward Grosket, and grasped his hand in 
 both of his. 
 
 Can you save me ? can you save me ? can you prove it 
 untrue ? gasped he ; * Oh ! do c?o, for God s sake ! 
 
HARRY HARSON. 163 
 
 I can, replied Grosket. 
 
 And can you save her, her? my own child? exclaimed 
 he, pointing to his daughter. He would get her in his toils 
 also. 
 
 * So help me God, I think I can ! said Grosket, earnestly ; 
 * but to do so, I must be free ; free only for one month. If 
 I fail, the gaol may have its prey. Get me that delay, and 
 I have no fears for the rest. 
 
 Here s the document, said Mr. Kipe, emerging from a 
 profound revery, at the very moment that it was most requi 
 site that his wits should be present, and producing a paper. 
 I 11 fill it up ; you can sign it to once-t, and acknowledge 
 it arterward. 
 
 Rhoneland had reached out his hand to take the paper, 
 but suddenly he hesitated and drew it back. 
 
 Must he know this? inquired he. Is there no way in 
 which it can be kept from him ? 
 
 Grosket looked at the deputy, who looked at the wall, and 
 said that he didn t know as it could be perwented, con 
 venient. 
 
 Then you must choose between us, said Grosket, coldly. 
 I have said enough to satisfy you that I have the same 
 power over you that Rust has, did I but choose to exert it. 
 In suffering me to go to prison, you are permitting him to 
 fetter the only person who can defeat his schemes, who can 
 free you from his control, and prevent your child from 
 being Mrs. Rust. 
 
 I d die first ! I d die first ! exclaimed the old man, fran- 
 ticly. Me he might sacrifice, but he shall not harm you, 
 Kate. I 11 do it, I 11 do it, for your sake, my child ! said he, 
 turning to her, and clasping her convulsively to him. Come 
 vvhat may, I 11 do it. Come, Sir ; I m ready, said he. I 11 
 
164 HARRY HARSON. 
 
 go at once. Lose no time, not a minute. Why do you 
 wait ? said he, impatiently. 
 
 Without heeding him, Grosket went up to Kate, and took 
 her hand respectfully : Trust me, no harm will come of this 
 to him. At all events, none compared with what would 
 have befallen both of you, had Michael Rust succeeded in 
 his plans. If ever there was a man in this world in whom 
 the Devil sqems to live and move, it is Michael Rust. His 
 sagacity and shrewdness have hitherto given him success ; 
 and hitherto he has laughed at law, and baffled detection ; 
 but his race is nearly run. He or I must fall ; and of this 
 one thing I am certain, / shall not. Now, Sir, said he, 
 turning to Rhoneland, we ll go. But I rn puzzled where 
 to look for another bail. 
 
 I sha n t be perticklar about that, said Mr. Kipe, quietly ; 
 I know something about Jacob Rhoneland, and he s good 
 enough for me. We 11 get this acknowledged, and then you 
 may go. 
 
 Rhoneland went to the door, and opening it, led the way 
 into the street. 
 
 Many important events in life balance upon the acts of a 
 moment ; and had Rhoneland lingered five minutes longer, 
 he would never have linked himself to Grosket ; for not that 
 time had elapsed after their departure, when the door of the 
 room where Kate was still sitting alone was opened, and 
 Michael Rust entered. His look was eager, and his usually 
 slow, shuffling step was rapid. 
 
 * Where s Jacob V said he, looking round. 
 He s gone out, replied Kate, coldly. 
 
 * Gone out ! repeated he ; and then suddenly changing 
 his manner, he said: Well, I wanted him; but he has left 
 you in his place. It was kind in him. He knew that I was 
 
HARRY HARSON. 165 
 
 coming, Kate ; that I doted on you ; that there was nothing 
 I loved like a little chat with you, and he could n t have the 
 heart to disappoint me ; so he let you remain. Ah ! Kate ! 
 troubles are thickening upon me. Do n t you sympathize 
 with me, Kate ? I know you do. I in sure you do. You re 
 a noble girl ! 
 
 As he spoke, he advanced and took her hand. Kate 
 drew it from him with an air of marked coldness ; but not 
 at all discouraged, he said : 
 
 The sweetest hour of my life is when I steal away to sit 
 by your side, Kate ; to gaze in your face, and watch your 
 eye as it peeps from under its long lashes, and the smile of 
 your pouting, cherry lip. Ah ! Kate ! 
 
 Mr. Rust, this is really very unpleasant, said Kate, with 
 some anger in her manner. As my father s friend, you 
 come to this house. As his friend, also, you should not 
 forget what is due to his daughter, and should refrain from 
 a style of conversation which cannot but be offensive. 
 
 How sweetly she speaks ! continued Rust, in his old 
 strain ; how charmingly she looks when excited ! Ah ! 
 Kate, you re a little devil ; you ve made sad havoc here ! 
 said he, placing his hand on his heart sad havoc ! 
 
 Mr. Rust, returned Kate, angrily, unless you end this 
 conversation, either you or I must leave the room. 
 
 I do n t believe you re in earnest, Kate ; on my soul, I 
 do n t ; but I will drop it. But one favor grant me only 
 one favor. It s not a great one. I know you 11 grant it, 
 you re such an angel. 
 
 Kate looked at him without speaking, and he went on : 
 
 One kiss, Kate ; one single sweet kiss from my own 
 dear darling, to comfort me amid my misfortunes ! 
 
 Kate Rhoneland started up, her eyes flashing fire. Leave 
 this house, Sir! 
 
166 HARRY HARSON. 
 
 1 Ho ! ho ! how sweetly she orders ! exclaimed Rust, ad 
 vancing toward her ; * how bright her eyes are ! how the 
 rich color plays along her cheek ! how beautiful my own 
 Kate is ! * Leave this house, indeed ! The thing s impos 
 sible, with such a charmer within it. Come, Kate; one 
 kiss only one ; I 11 tell no one, not even Ned. Upon my 
 soul, I won t tell Ned. 
 
 Kate made an attempt to spring past him, but he caught 
 her by her dress, drew her to him, threw his arms about her 
 waist, and pressed his lips to hers. 
 
 It was a dear kiss to him ; for while she was struggling 
 in his grasp, the door opened, a heavy blow lighted on his 
 head, and he fell like a sfone on the floor. 
 
 If he s dead, be it so ! said a stern voice. But it was 
 not so. 
 
 For a moment he lay like one who had seen his last sun ; 
 then he staggered up, pressed his hands to his temples, looked 
 about him with a bewildered air, until his eyes encoun 
 tered those of Jacob Rhoneland, bright with passion, and 
 his whole frame quivering with rage. Gradually Rust s 
 faculties began to rally, until he and Rhoneland stood gaz 
 ing face to face. 
 
 So it was you, was it, good Jacob ? said he, moving to 
 the door. Thank you, my kind friend ; I 11 not forget you ! 
 Farewell, good Jacob. To your dying-day you shall have 
 cause to remember that you struck Michael Rust. He 
 bowed profoundly to them, shut the door, and went out. 
 
HARRY HARSON. 167 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 MORE than a week had elapsed since the rupture between 
 Rhoneland and Rust ; and during that period Jacob neither 
 saw him nor heard from him. But in that interval he had 
 become confirmed in his purpose of resistance ; and had re 
 solved to risk any thing, rather than submit to the mental 
 bondage which had hitherto crushed him. Steadfast in this 
 purpose, he quietly awaited the movements of his adversary. 
 
 On one fine afternoon, the bright rays of a setting sun 
 streaming through the window fell upon the face of the old 
 man, as he was dozing in his room, and awakened him. 
 Starting to his feet, and casting his eyes hurriedly about 
 him, he exclaimed : I tell you, no ; I tell you, no, Michael 
 Rust. It shall never be ! Ah, Kate ! said he, looking about 
 the room, and seeing no one except his daughter, it s you, 
 is it ? only you ? And I ve been dreaming ? Well, well ; 
 thank God it was no worse ! It s strange I should have 
 dreamed that Michael Rust wanted you, Kate, and asked for 
 you. But no matter; kiss me, child. We ve done with 
 him. There s a comfort in that. We shall be quite happy 
 happy as we once were. Shall we not, Kate ? 
 
 Kate s lips quivered, as she pressed them to his forehead ; 
 and there was a busy little voice at her heart, which whis 
 pered a name, and brought up recollections that nearly 
 choked her, as she said, in a low tone, * Quite happy. 
 
 But, Kate, said her father, placing an arm about her 
 waist, while he put back her hair with his other hand, and 
 looked anxiously in her face, you do n t say, happy as in 
 old times. 1 
 
168 HARRY HAR80N. 
 
 Kate was silent. "What could she say, when her young 
 heart was breaking ? But at last she did say : 
 
 * It certainly will make me happier, much happier, than I 
 have been, to know that you are once more yourself; that 
 that evil, daring man has lost his influence over you, never 
 to regain it ; and that there is nothing to harass you and 
 break you down, as there once was. All this makes me 
 quite happy. Indeed it does I But there was that in her 
 tone which belied her words, and Rhoneland observed it. 
 
 Ah ! child, child ! said he, shaking his head sorrowfully, 
 I see it all. Ned Somers has much to answer for. I loved 
 and trusted him. God forgive him that he meditated so vile 
 a wrong. lie was to me as my own son. Had he loved 
 you, Kate, openly and honorably, as a man should, and as 
 you deserve to be loved, and had he asked you from me, I 
 would not have said no, Kate. But he acted like a villain ; 
 and I ve cast him off for ever. 
 
 Kate became very pale, and her voice grew thick and 
 husky, as she asked : Father, will you answer me a 
 question ? 
 
 Yes, Kate, a hundred, said he, drawing her more closely to 
 him. I 11 sit here all day long, and answer you. Now that 
 he is gone, I feel quite young and boyish again ; and nothing 
 gladdens me more than your voice. Now go on. What 
 is it? 
 
 The girl took his hand in both hers, and looking steadily 
 in his face, asked : Who told you the tale which set you 
 against Ned ? 
 
 4 Who ? inquired Rhoneland ; who ? Why, he Rust. 
 
 And have you never found, in the course of your dealings 
 with that man, that he could forget or pervert the truth ; or 
 even invent a falsehood, when it served his own purpose ? 
 
 Jacob Rhoneland laughed to himself, in a low chuckling 
 
HARRY H ARSON. 169 
 
 tone, and rubbed his hands. What! lie? Rust lie? Bless 
 you, child, he does nothing else. Ha ! ha ! He s a deep one, 
 depend on it. 
 
 And can you see no reason for his traducing Ned ? said 
 she, the blood mounting to her face as she spoke. Was 
 there no plan of his which Ned s presence here crossed, and 
 which rendered it necessary to prejudice you against him ? 
 
 The old man pondered ; looked at her, and then at the 
 floor; and at last sank back in his chair, in a deep and un 
 pleasant revery, from which he was only aroused by a 
 knock at the door. * Go to your room, Kate. It s Enoch. 
 I 11 open the door myself. 
 
 Kate had scarcely left the room, and Jacob had not yet 
 risen to obey the summons, when the door of the apartment 
 opened, and Michael Rust walked in, as quietly and serenely 
 as if nothing had happened. 
 
 Good-evening, friend Jacob, said he, bowing low, and 
 speaking in his softest tone. I m here again, you see. I 
 could not give you up so soon. I could not let a trifling 
 misunderstanding break off old friendship. I hadn t the 
 heart to do it, good Jacob. There was a severe struggle 
 between pride and friendship, but friendship gained the day ; 
 and I have come with an open heart to offer you my most 
 humble apology, and to ask you to forget and forgive. I 
 feel that I took an unwarrantable liberty with Kate ; but I 
 loved her, Jacob, and was hurried too far by my feelings. 
 I was wrong, and you acted as a father should. Let us forget 
 the past, and be as we were. 
 
 Michael extended his hand to him as he spoke ; but 
 Rhoneland neither took it, nor looked at it nor at him, nor 
 uttered a word in reply ; but sat looking out of the window, 
 as if he heard not a word. 
 
 What was it that bowed the bold, bad man, who had 
 8 
 
170 HARRY H ARSON. 
 
 never yielded to Rhoneland before, but had trodden on hi c 
 very neck, mocking at his sufferings, jeering at his agony of 
 mind; returning threats for supplications, and taunts for 
 tears ; and now brought him a suppliant to his feet ? Was 
 it that strange, mysterious feeling which sometimes tells a 
 man that the hour of his fate is approaching, and that his 
 time is measured ? Was the coming storm flinging its 
 shadow over his path ? Did he feel the earth sinking beneath 
 his feet ; and was he glad to grasp even at a decayed and 
 shattered branch to hold him up ? Or was it a part of a deeper 
 policy ? and was there yet something to be gained by clinging 
 to his former dupe ? It may have been a mixture of all these 
 feelings ; but certain it is that there he was ; the same bow 
 ing, cringing hypocrite, with a tongue of oil and a heart of 
 flint, endeavoring by soothing words and fawning lies once 
 more to win back the man who had turned his back upon 
 him. And equally certain it is, that a more unyielding, im 
 penetrable, imperturbable piece of humanity he had never 
 met with ; for to all his fine sentences, allurements, and 
 artifices of every kind, he received no reply. 
 
 This tack won t do, thought Rust. He won t swallow 
 honey. I 11 give him wormwood ; but before that, one more 
 attempt. 
 
 Jacob, my friend, said he, drawing a chair nearer to him, 
 seating himself, and sinking his voice; perhaps you think I 
 meant ill about your daughter ? 
 
 The old man moved "restlessly, but was silent. Rust saw 
 that he had touched the theme which would arouse him. 
 
 You were mistaken, my friend. Would that the inton 
 tions of all were as pure as mine. 
 
 Speak of something else, replied Rhoneland, abruptly 
 * I 11 not hear you on that subject. 
 
 But you must, said Rust; indeed you must, my old 
 
HARRY HARSO.V. m 
 
 friend. Not that I would annoy you ; but I came here for 
 that express purpose, and must speak of her. 
 
 Rhoneland looked keenly at him, and then at the floor, 
 grasping the sides of the chair firmly, as if to restrain him 
 self from violence, and Rust went on. 
 
 I in a man of few words, Jacob. Kate s a dear, sweet 
 girl. I love her ; she loves me. Will you give her to me 
 for a wife ? 
 
 It s false ! said Rhoneland, starting to his feet. If 
 there be a single person in this world whom Kate hates 
 more than another, it is you ? Give her to you for a wife ! 
 exclaimed he, in a bitter tone ; * give her to you YOU ! 
 I d see her in her coffin first ! Go, Michael Rust, said he, 
 extending his hands toward him ; your power is at an end 
 in this house. Go ! 
 
 Not quite, good Jacob ! said Rust, in a low, fierce tone. 
 Not quite, good Jacob ! I know what your plans are ; 
 what your hopes are. I know what Enoch Grosket can do ; 
 and in what he ll fail. He ll fail to vindicate Jacob Rhone- 
 land. He ll fail to vindicate himself. He ll fail to over 
 throw Michael Rust. He and Jacob will soon be cheek by 
 jowl with those whose good deeds have placed fetters on 
 them. It s well, Jacob, it s well. We 11 see who 11 win 
 the race. Pause, good Jacob ; pause before you decide. I 
 give you five minutes. With Michael Rust for a son-in-law, 
 you are safe. 
 
 Rhoneland grew exceedingly pale ; and then summoning 
 his resolution, said : 
 
 I have decided. Though it cost me my life, you shall 
 not marry Kate. Go! Yet stop, Michael Rust. Before 
 you go, know this : That 1 11 meet you, and defy you. You 
 think that you can pervert an honest act of mine, so as to 
 give it an appearance of crime. Do it if you can. I 11 not 
 
172 HARRY II ARSON. 
 
 appeal to your sense of justice, for you have none ; but if 
 you fail, in turn I will hunt you down, until the law shall 
 have its due. Now go. 
 
 Jacob Rhoneland, one word. 
 
 Not a syllable ! said the old man, grasping his heavy 
 cane, and his face becoming purple with anger : * viper ! be 
 gone ! If you darken my doors one moment longer, I 11 
 fling you into the street ! 
 
 Good-bye, Jacob, said Rust ; but not another word did 
 he utter, as he left the house. His face was ashy pale ; his 
 features pinched and sharp ; and he gnawed his lip until the 
 blood came from it. Regardless of his appearance ; with 
 his long locks hanging in tangled flakes about his face, he 
 hurried on. Dead and corpse-like as his features were, never 
 was a fiercer spirit at work, to give life and energy to human 
 frame ; never was there a stronger concentration of dark 
 passions in a human heart. His pace was quick and firm ; 
 there was no loitering ; no pausing to think ; no sign 
 of irresolution. Darting along the street where the old 
 man lived, and striking into one of the wider cross-streets of 
 the city, he followed it until it brought him into Broadway. 
 This he crossed, and plunged into that labyrinth of narrow 
 streets which run between that and the Bowery. Thread 
 ing them with the ready step of one familiar with their 
 turns and windings, he neither paused to inquire his direc 
 tion, nor to read the sign-boards ; but even in the darkest 
 and dreariest parts, his knowledge seemed certain and 
 accurate. The twilight had darkened into night ; and as he 
 proceeded through the more fated parts of the city, dim 
 figures, which like bats were shrouded in holes and dark 
 hiding-places in the day-time, were beginning to flit about ; 
 yet he felt no hesitation nor fear. In the most gloomy and 
 blighted of all these places he paused, cast a quick, suspi 
 cious glance about him, to see that none watched him, arid 
 
HARRY EARS ON. 173 
 
 then darted up an alley between two houses, so ruined that 
 their sagging gables met over it like a Gothic arch. Grop 
 ing his way along, he came to a door at the foot of a flight 
 of stairs which terminated the passage. He did not pause 
 to knock ; but pulling a string, opened it, and ascended a 
 pitch-dark staircase, which in like manner was terminated at 
 the upper end by a door. At this he knocked loudly. 
 He was answered by a gruff voice which inquired : 
 
 Is that you, Joe? 
 
 No, replied Rust. 
 
 Well, if you a n t Joe, who are you? If you a n t got 
 a name, peg away ; for blow me if I open till I hear it. 
 
 There was a noise, as if the speaker, in conclusion of his 
 observation, drew a chair or bench along the floor, and 
 seated himself. 
 
 Come, Bill, said another voice, * this won t do. You M 
 better open it. 
 
 A muttering from Bill showed that he thought otherwise ; 
 but the person who had spoken, apparently not heeding his 
 disapprobation, got up and opened the door, giving to Rust 
 as he did so a full view of the interior of the room. 
 
 At a table sat a man with coarse red hair, and a beard of 
 several days growth. He was a brawny fellow, six feet 
 high, with a cast in one eye, which seemed to have been 
 injured by a deep gash, the scar of which still remaineu, 
 commencing on the very eyelid, crossing one cheek and 
 his nose, and giving an air of sternness to features which 
 needed not this addition to express much that was bad. 
 His companion, who had opened the door, was a man of 
 smaller build, with broad, square shoulders, dark, sharp 
 eyes, narrow forehead and overhanging brows, and a thin, 
 tremulous lip ; and though possessed of less physical strength 
 
174 HARRY II ARSON. 
 
 than his comrade, looked much the more dangerous of the 
 two. 
 
 They both eyed Rust without speaking, and then the 
 larger of the two said to his comrade : Tim Craig, hand the 
 gentleman a chair. 
 
 * I do n t want one, said Rust abruptly. * Have you seen 
 Enoch ? 
 
 They both shook their heads. 
 
 * lie 11 blow on me, and you, and others. 
 
 The two men looked at him, and then at each other, but 
 said nothing. 
 
 1 He s set himself up against me me ! said Rust, his 
 thin lip curling and yet trembling as he spoke. 
 
 He s a dark man, that Enoch, said Craig, in a low tone. 
 
 * There s no good in crossing him, Mr. Rust. 
 
 * Crossing him ! crossing him ! exclaimed Rust. * He 
 has crossed me. Who ever did that, and prospered ? Ho ! 
 ho ! Enoch, Enoch ! you mistook your man ! 
 
 The two looked anxiously at each other, but did not speak ; 
 and although they had the thews and sinews which could 
 have torn the thin form before them to shreds, it seemed as 
 if tbey both shrank from him with something like fear. 
 
 1 It has come to the death-struggle between us, said Rust ; 
 
 * one or the other must fall. 
 
 * If you re the one ? inquired Craig. 
 
 * Others must go too, replied Rust ; * they must. 
 Craig gnawed his lip. 
 
 If Enoch goes, he goes alone, continued Rust. He 
 must be out of my way ; he knows too much. 
 
 The men exchanged looks ; but the larger of the two 
 seemed to leave all the speaking to the other, merely listen 
 ing with great attention, and occasionally favoring his com- 
 
HARRY H ARSON. 1*75 
 
 rade with a glance, to see what effect Rust s words produced 
 on him. 
 
 I have no time to stay now, said Rust, turning to Craig : 
 4 1 Ve told you enough. Grosket is in my way. I must be 
 rid of him. 
 
 Craig put his finger to his throat, and deliberately drew 
 it across it. You re a ticklish man to deal with, Mr. Rust : 
 is that what you mean ? said he. 
 
 I say I must be rid of him, replied Rust fiercely. Are 
 you deaf ? Are your brains addled ? Rid of him rid of 
 him RID of him ! exclaimed he, advancing, and hissing 
 the words in the man s ear, while there was something in 
 his look and manner that caused even the bold villain he 
 addressed to draw back and assume a somewhat defensive 
 attitude. Do you understand me now? Law won t do 
 what I want. I prescribe no mode ; but Enoch Grosket 
 must be out of my path. 
 
 You re growing red-hot, my master, said the man, 
 bluntly. But I must have what you want spoken out. 
 Shall he be knocked on the head ? 
 
 Has n t he committed a murder, burnt a house, stolen, 
 embezzled ? I think I Ve heard of his having done some 
 thing of the kind, said Rust, earnestly. 
 
 Of course he has. He s done em all, if you like. Bill 
 knows something about them. Do n t you, Bill ? 
 
 Oh ! yes, said Bill, refreshing himself from a large 
 pitcher of water. This ere vorter is very weak. Blowed 
 if I a n t forgot what liquor smells like ; and it s so long 
 since I seed a dollar, that bless me if I think I d know 
 one. I d have to go to some obligin friend to ax what it 
 was. 
 
 This declaration of ignorance was accompanied by a look 
 of consummate disgust into the pitcher, and another of a 
 very peculiar character at Rust. 
 
176 HARRY H ARSON. 
 
 That worthy, however, seemed not unused to meeting 
 with gentlemen in similar trying circumstances ; for he gave 
 both the look and language an interpretation which, con 
 sidering the enigmatical mode in which they were expressed, 
 fully met the views of the man who uttered them ; and 
 thrusting his hand in his pocket, he drew out a handful of 
 silver, which he flung into the pitcher, and said : 
 
 Perhaps that will improve the water. 
 
 Bill made no other response than a broad grin ; and then 
 said, in a more business-like tone : 
 
 Well, about that murder, and house-burnin , and all that. 
 "What do you want ? 
 
 I want proof of it against Grosket, if he did it. 
 
 In course he did it, replied the man, with a knowing 
 look. 
 
 Well, bring me the proof of it, and bring it soon. You 
 know where to find me. 
 
 The smaller of the two men took Rust by the arm and 
 led him to a remote part of the room, and then said, in a 
 low tone : Suppose I can fetch some one here as would 
 swear that Enoch had stole two children ; would that do ? 
 It could be done. 
 
 Rust stooped down hastily, as if to examine something 
 on the floor ; and when he rose up, his face was paler than 
 before. 
 
 Ay ; find it all out, said he, hurriedly. All all : who 
 are the children ; who aided him : all all. 
 
 I 11 do it, said the man. 
 
 But remember this, said Rust, in a low, savage tone : 
 if you breathe a word of this matter to mortal man, or about 
 what you learn, it will lead to blood. Do you hear me ? 
 
 Yes, master ; and I believe you, too, replied the man, 
 sullenly. 
 
HARRY H ARSON. 177 
 
 Rust turned on his heel, and even before they were aware 
 that he h ad left the room, was in the street. 
 
 He flung his hand up toward the black sky, as he emerged, 
 and exclaimed to himself: 
 
 * Traitors ! traitors ! God of heaven, how I m beset ! 
 
 His course was now to his old den. When he reached it. 
 he found even that paragon of clerks, Mr. Kornicker, absent. 
 This was a relief; for he was too much excited to care to 
 have any witness of his appearance. 
 
 1 It struck seven as I passed the town- clock, said he. It 
 wants an hour to the time fixed. I 11 wait. 
 
 Although it was dark, he flung himself on a chair, with 
 out striking a light, and sat for some time in silence, tapping 
 the floor with his foot. But he could not rest in his 
 present mood ; and he soon started up and paced the room, 
 muttering to himself. At last the clock struck eight. The 
 lights which, shining from the windows in different parts 
 of the building, had partially relieved the gloom of his room, 
 were extinguished one by one, and it became pitchy dark. 
 Rust lighted a candle ; placed it on the mantel-piece, and 
 stood looking at it for some moments. He heard a step on 
 the stairs; but it ascended to the floor beyond, then de 
 scended, and went out into the street. He looked at his 
 watch ; it was but five minutes past eight. * God ! how 
 slow the time went ! Perhaps his watch had stopped. He 
 put it to his ear : tick, tick, tick ! There seemed an 
 interval of a minute between every stroke. Five minutes 
 past eight ; ten minutes more, and she will be here, muttered 
 he ; and then I shall know the worst. 
 
 He put the watch in his pocket ; and looking at the ceil 
 ing, attempted to whistle; but could not. His blood 
 was in a fever. Hark ! was that a footstep on the stairs ? 
 No, it was only the tread of a person overhead. Hist! 
 8* 
 
178 HARRY HARSON. 
 
 what s that? He stood stock-still, and listened. There 
 was a slight shuffling noise in the passage, and then a faint 
 tap at the door. 
 
 Rust sprang forward, and opened it. A female, muffled 
 in an old cloak, stood cowering on the outside. 
 
 Ha! it s you at last! exclaimed he, in that abrupt, 
 energetic manner, which suited his character better than his 
 more usual tones. What news ? 
 
 The woman, either to gain time, or because she was 
 really exhausted, staggered to a chair, and turning her face 
 to the light, revealed the features of Mrs. Blossom. 
 
 Ah s me ! ah s me ! said she, leaning back, and sighing 
 heavily. It s a wearisome way I ve come, old and feeble 
 as I am old and feeble, old and feeble a very weari 
 some way. 
 
 There must have been something in the look of Rust, who 
 stood before her with his black, glowing eye fixed on hers, 
 that was peculiarly startling ; for she paused in her whining, 
 and turning to him, said : 
 
 What do you look at me so for ? 
 
 Is there no reason for it ? said Rust in a low voice. Is 
 there no trust betrayed ? Have you done all that you swore 
 to do ? Have you not betrayed me, I say ? 
 
 Mrs. Blossom, hardened as she naturally was, and as she 
 had become by long following a pursuit which requires no 
 little assurance, was not without some signs of trepidation at 
 this question. 
 
 No, no ; I have n t. I swear I have n t, said she. 
 
 Michael Rust grasped her wrist, and drawing her to the 
 table, held the light full in her face. 
 
 Who told Tim Craig about those children ? Who told 
 him what the man s name was who took them to you ? 
 Who told you MY name ? 
 
HARRY H ARSON. 179 
 
 Mrs. Blossom shrank from the fierce, intense gaze which 
 was fixed on her face. She attempted to reply, but no 
 words followed the tremulous motion of her lips. And 
 Rust went on : 
 
 I placed two children in your charge. They were never 
 to leave it, except for one place the grave. 
 
 Mrs. Blossom s wan features grew paler, as she whispered : 
 
 * Not so loud, Mr. Rust ; not so loud. 
 
 As you please ; I 11 whisper, said Rust, suiting the action 
 to the wor,d ; and speaking in a whisper, yet so distinct 
 and thrilling, that each word seemed to come like a blow. 
 
 * I placed two children under your charge ; and unless I 
 required them, and unless they grew ill and died, they were 
 to become what you are. Where are they ? I want them. 
 
 Mrs. Blossom looked hopelessly about her, as if she medi 
 tated an escape ; but seeing no chance of any, she cast a 
 deprecating eye at Rust, shook her head, and said nothing. 
 Rust went on in the same strain : 
 
 They were with you two months since ; going on glori 
 ously ; travelling at a hand- gallop to the grave. I have 
 heard strange stories of them since. Are they true ? 
 
 Still the woman was silent. 
 
 Answer me ! said Rust, his fury gradually getting the 
 mastery of him, and his voice bursting out loud and clear. 
 Where are they 1 
 
 Mrs. Blossom clasped her hands and looked at him, but 
 uttered not a word. 
 
 Where are the children ? Answer me ! said he, starting 
 to his feet, and darting up to her, his eyes perfectly blood 
 shot with fury, and the foam standing round his lips ; the 
 children, I say the children ! God d n you ! do you 
 hear me ? 
 
 Mrs. Blossom cowered down in the chair, and made one 
 
180 IIARR Y HA RSO N. 
 
 or two futile efforts to speak ; her thin blue lips quivered, 
 but no sound came from them ; while a kind of idiotic 
 smile fixed itself on her features. 
 
 * THE CHILDREN, I say ! exclaimed Rust, gnashing his 
 teeth with rage ; and seizing the woman by the shoulders in 
 his paroxysm of fury, he shook her until she reeled and fell 
 to the floor. What have you done with them ? Answer 
 me ; or, by the God of heaven, I 11 crush you beneath iny 
 feet ! 
 
 Before his amiable intention, however, could be carried 
 into effect, Mrs. Blossom had recovered her feet, and not a 
 little of her usual spirit ; and turning upon him, with eyes 
 flashing as brightly as his own, she said : 
 
 * They re gone, Michael Rust ; gone, gone ! Do you hear 
 that ? Gone where, when you next see them, you will wish 
 the undertaker had measured them before. Gone, gone ! 
 ha ! ha ! Would you know where ? Ask Enoch Grosket 
 for one, and he ll tell you; and the other s beyond your 
 reach. You won t see the lambs again. So much for 
 striking an unprotected female, Michael Rust. That for ye ! 
 that for ye ! THAT for ye ! And she snapped her fingers in 
 the face of the disappointed schemer, and left the room, 
 slamming the door loudly after her. 
 
 Rust clasped his hands as she went out, and raised his 
 eves to heaven. 
 
 4 Gone ! repeated he, in a low tone ; gone ! both gone ! 
 And I I what will become of me ? Is it for this that 
 I have toiled for years; that I have stooped to mean 
 ness and dissimulation ; have steeped myself in crime, 
 and have had felons and miscreants of every dye for my 
 associates ? For years have I been on the rack. No more 
 quiet hours, or peaceful dreams ; but cursed and hated ; my 
 schemes thwarted, my hopes blighted ; a felon ; my dearest 
 
HARRY HARSON. 181 
 
 hopes crumbled to dust; Kate married! and I, / where 
 shall I be? And she she, whom I have loved above all 
 others what will become of her ? God of heaven ! ex 
 claimed he, shall these things be ? Shall I fall ? shall they 
 triumph ? Never ! never ! Be yourself, Michael Rust ! said 
 he, in a choked voice; be yourself! be yourself! This has 
 happened from trusting others. Rely on yourself, Michael ; 
 be cool, Michael ; and then thwart them thwart them ! 
 
 He paused, and stood in the middle of that room like a 
 statue. Slowly and by degrees every trace of excitement 
 disappeared from his features, until they had assumed a 
 sharp, rigid, fixed look; and then he said, pursuing the 
 same theme : Thwart them ; thwart them, Michael Rust ! 
 Work, toil, cringe, lie, steal, murder ay, do any thing 
 but thwart them, thwart them ! Good Michael Rust, do n t 
 suffer yourself to be a by-word in their mouths ! And if 
 you fail, Michael, die fighting. There s something noble in 
 that. Be it so ; be it so ! said he, in a stern, abrupt tone. 
 * They Ve driven me to extremities. Nothing but desperate 
 measures can save me. Desperate measures shall be tried. 
 Does success require a life ? Well, well ; the world s over 
 loaded ; it shall have one. If I attain it, it will be another s ; 
 if I fail, it will be my own. The grave is a quiet resting- 
 place ; a better one than the world, when a man s foiled in 
 all his aims. But I m weary, I m weary ! said he, in a 
 low, desponding tone ; my head s dizzy, and my brain con 
 fused, by the troubles which have come so thickly upon me 
 to-day. I must rest. 
 
 Drawing a chair to the table, he seated himself upon it; 
 bent his head down upon the table, and, exhausted by the 
 excitement of the last few days, which had taxed even his 
 n frame beyond its powers of endurance, he soon slept 
 heavily. 
 
182 HARRY H ARSON. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 LEAVING Michael Rust buried in death-like slumber, we 
 must turn to one destined to take an active part in the suc 
 ceeding events of this history ; and who, on that same even 
 ing, was employed in a manner directly the reverse of that of 
 Rust. That man was Harry Harson. 
 
 Seated at a table in his own room, with every feature 
 puckered up into a very hard knot, the combined result of 
 thought, perplexity, and anger, he was poring over a number 
 of papers, occasionally pausing to scratch his head, or break 
 ing out into an exclamation of displeasure, not unfrequently 
 accompanied by a hard thump on the table, as something 
 met his eye which excited his indignation in a peculiar 
 degree. 
 
 It was past midnight ; three good hours beyond the time 
 at which he usually retired to rest. All indications of bustle 
 and stir in the streets had long since ceased, and not a sound 
 was heard, except the occasional tread of a belated straggler, 
 hurrying to his home ; the sharp ticking of the clock, and 
 the plethoric snoring of Spite, who made it a rule never to 
 go to bed before his master ; and who, being a methodical 
 dog in habit, and an obstinate one in disposition, could not 
 be induced to depart from old usages. As each successive 
 hour was heralded by the voice of the clock just mentioned, 
 Spite rose, looked at the timepiece, then at his master, as if 
 to say, * Hallo ! old fellow, do you hear that ? gaped ; saun 
 tered round the table, and resumed his former position, each 
 time lessening the distance between himself and the fire, as 
 its embers gradually crumbled to ashes. Still, Harson con- 
 
HA R RY HAR SO N. 183 
 
 tinued his occupation ; tossing over, examining, and studying 
 the papers and letters, in utter disregard of hints and admo 
 nitions. Apparently, he became more troubled as he advanced 
 in his investigation. His brow contracted ; the color deep 
 ened in his cheek ; his eye kindled ; and more than once he 
 threw the papers impatiently on the table, and, rising up, 
 paced the room with rapid strides. This occurred at inter 
 vals during the whole evening, until finally he came to a 
 letter which caused his anger to boil over. Starting to his 
 feet and clasping his hands, he exclaimed : Good God ! 
 shall such things be ? and wilt Thou not protect the innocent 
 and punish the guilty ? 
 
 But why ask ? added he, suddenly : * I know that even 
 now, through channels that were least dreamed of, justice is 
 working its way to the light. Confirm me, great God ! 
 added he, fervently, in my purpose of seeing right done ; 
 and grant that I may never swerve from my course until 
 that purpose is accomplished ! 
 
 Had the culprit against whom he uttered this invocation 
 and prayer heard the muttered threat which succeeded it, 
 and witnessed the kindling face and stern, determined eye 
 of the person who had uttered them, his heart, had he been 
 a man of ordinary mould, might have sunk ; but as the cul 
 prit in this case was no other than Michael Rust, who had 
 no belief in an hereafter ; who entertained suspicion against 
 all men, and who never yielded his point under any circum 
 stances, it is possible that it would have produced no other 
 result than increased watchfulness, increased determination, 
 and bitter hatred. 
 
 I have read of such schemes as these, muttered Harson, 
 but I never expected to have any thing to do with them 
 myself never. Can there be any doubt ? said he, turning 
 the letters over in his hand. They can scarcely be forgeries, 
 vamped up to obtain money from me ; for many of them 
 
184 HARRY HARSOtf. 
 
 were written years ago, and bear post-office stamps whose 
 dates correspond with the dates within. 
 
 But, said he, looking at the clock, enough of this. It 
 would almost make a young man gray to wade through the 
 details of such villany. An old man like me must spare him 
 self. I ve had enough for one dose ; so I 11 sleep on it, and 
 take the rest in the morning. Ha ! Spite, said he, stooping 
 down and patting the dog ; * better be a good, honest dog 
 like thee, my old cur, than a man with such a heart as some 
 have. The temper s a trifle, Spite ; so do n t be worried 
 about yours ; for your heart s right, my old dog. There s 
 no double-dealing about you. I do n t know whether God 
 blesses an honest dog, or not ; but I believe he does, in some 
 way or other. Come, pup, I 11 not keep you up longer. 
 
 Saying this, he gathered up the papers, and placed them in 
 a small box, which he locked, and put under his arm, and, 
 followed by Spite, left the room for the story above. He 
 paused, and listened at a door at the head of the stairs ; then 
 turning the knob so as to make no noise, he went in. It 
 was a small room, having a thick carpet on the floor, and a 
 dressing-table covered with white muslin standing between 
 the windows, whose curtains were as white as snow. In one 
 corner was a bed. On a chair, at the side of it, lay a girl s 
 clothes ; and in the bed itself was a girl of about five years 
 of age, with her light hair streaming over the pillow like a 
 web of gold. There was little trace in her face of the out 
 cast whom he had taken from the streets but a few weeks 
 before ; for the thin cheek had filled up, and the flush of 
 health had succeeded the paleness of suffering and illness. 
 Her eyes were closed, and their long lashes drooped over her 
 cheek ; but she did not sleep soundly ; for she muttered to 
 herself, as Harson bent over her : * Come, Charley ; we Ve 
 been looking for you a long time. Come ! 
 
11 A Li li Y HA R SON. 185 
 
 She s dreaming of the boy, thought he ; but be of good 
 heart, my poor child ; we 11 find him yet. 
 
 He leaned down until his gray hair mingled with her 
 bright locks, pressed his lips to her forehead, and went qui 
 etly into the entry, where his presence was greeted with no 
 little satisfaction by Spite, who had been shut out, and was 
 becoming somewhat testy at being kept in the dark. 
 
 It was not long before Harson, with a thick counterpane 
 up to his very chin, was sleeping as soundly in his own bed 
 as Spite was under it. 
 
 What dreams hovered around the old man s pillow, or 
 whether he had any, we cannot tell ; but certain it is, that 
 when the morning sun broke through a small opening 
 between the window-curtains, flinging a long, thin streak o^ 
 gold across the carpet, Harson was still sound asleep ; and it 
 is quite uncertain how long he might have continued so, had 
 not the same ray of sunshine, in its passage across the room, 
 fallen directly across the centre of the right eye of Spite, 
 who had been drifting about the apartment since daybreak ; 
 and who now vented his disapprobation of the liberty taken, 
 in an irritable yelp. 
 
 Harry sat up in bed. What ails thee, pup ? said he, 
 rubbing his eyes. 
 
 Spite, however, was not in a communicative mood ; but 
 walked to the door, and seating himself, surveyed the knob 
 with great attention. Harson got up ; threw on a dressing- 
 gown, and going to the door, let him out, shutting it after 
 him. 
 
 He then went to a basin as portly and capacious as him 
 self, dashed nearly a pailful of water into it ; bared head, 
 neck, and shoulders, and plunged them in. Out he came, 
 very red in the face, with water dripping from nose, and 
 chin, and eyebrows. Then in again he went ; and then 
 
186 HARRY HARSON. 
 
 followed such a rubbing, and puffing, and blowing, and 
 spouting, that he seemed like a young whale at his gambols. 
 This ceremony being repeated some half dozen times, and 
 the same number of towels having dried him, he proceeded 
 to dress himself. 
 
 It might have been observed, however, that during the 
 whole time, his thoughts were wandering; for he walked to 
 the window with some article of apparel in his hand, and 
 stood looking into the street, in a state of deep abstraction ; 
 and then, drawing a long breath, resumed his dressing with 
 great earnestness, as if it had struck him that he was neglect 
 ing it. Then again he seated himself on the side of his bed, 
 and sat for some minutes, looking on the floor. 
 
 It s terrible, terrible ! said he; but it s not too late to 
 remedy it. Thank God for that! 
 
 Putting on one thing after another, sometimes upside 
 down, sometimes getting his feet in his sleeves ; then thrust 
 ing an arm in the wrong side of his coat ; tying and untying 
 his huge cravat half a dozen times, and enveloping the 
 half of his face in its ample folds ; doing every thing wrong, 
 and rectifying his mistakes with the greatest gravity, and 
 without the slightest appearance of impatience, Harson finally 
 found himself fully established in coat and jacket, with no 
 other mistake than the trifling one of having buttoned the 
 lower button of the last article into the top button-hole. 
 Having duly surveyed himself in the glass, to see that all 
 was right, without having detected his mistake, he went out. 
 
 He stopped at the door of the child s room. His foot 
 steps had apparently been recognized, for it was ajar, and a 
 pair of bright eyes were peeping out to welcome him. 
 
 Annie, is that you ? Ha ! child, you re a sad sleepy-head. 
 You 11 lose your breakfast. This won t do this won t do. 
 Spite was up long ago. He shook his finger at the child, 
 
HARRY H ARSON. 187 
 
 who laughed in his face ; and then, flinging the door open, 
 showed herself fully dressed. 
 
 Wrong, Harry ; wrong, wrong again, said she, springing 
 out, and addressing him in the familiar manner that he 
 always liked : I am dressed. 
 
 The old man took her in his arms, kissed her cheek, and 
 carried her down stairs ; and did not put her down till they 
 were in the room below. 
 
 Come, Harry, there s breakfast ; and there s your seat ; 
 and here s mine, exclaimed she, leading him to the table. 
 4 Martha has got here before us, said she, shaking her head 
 at a demure-looking woman of fifty, in a faded cap, with a 
 rusty ribbon round it, who was already seated at the table, 
 preparing the coffee. Here, Spite come here. 
 
 Spite was not a dog given to the company of children. 
 He was -by far too old, and sedate, and dignified for that; 
 but there were occasions on which he could unbend, and 
 these fits of relaxation generally came over him just at meal 
 times, when he permitted the child not only to pat him, but 
 even to uncurl his tail. Doubtless the sight of the creature- 
 comforts which garnished Harry s table had its effect in pro 
 ducing this change, although it is possible the knowledge 
 that the child devoted full half of h.er time to supplying his 
 wants (a thing which his master sometimes neglected) may 
 have had its weight. Obedient, at any rate, to the summons, 
 Spite hopped from a chair on which he had been seated, and 
 placed himself at her side, watching every mouthful she 
 swallowed, and licking his lips with great unction. 
 
 Harson s breakfast-table was, as the neighbors said, (par 
 ticularly the poor ones who now and then chanced to drop 
 in at it,) enough to awaken an appetite in a dead man ; and 
 if dead people are peculiarly alive to hot coffee, and mutton- 
 chops, and hashed meats, and warm cakes, and fresh rolls 
 
188 HARRY HARSON. 
 
 like snow itself, and all these things set off by crockery 
 which shone and glittered till you could see your face in it, 
 and table-linen without a speck or wrinkle in it, there is little 
 doubt but that a vast number of departed individuals must 
 have found their mouths watering at exactly half-past seven 
 each morning ; that being the precise hour at which these 
 articles made their daily appearance on Harson s table. But 
 certain it is that, whatever may have been its effect upon 
 them, it had little upon Harson ; for he scarcely touched any 
 thing, nor did he bestow his usual attention on those about 
 him, but sat sometimes with his eyes fixed on the cloth, 
 sometimes staring full in the face of the old housekeeper, 
 who looked at the ceiling, and on the floor, and in her cup, 
 and coughed, and hemmed, and fidgeted, and grew so red, 
 and confused, and embarrassed, that before Harson was even 
 aware that he was looking at her, to use her own expression, 
 she thought she should have dropped. But this was only 
 of a piece with all the rest of his actions during the morn 
 ing ; for to all remarks or questions, his only answer was an 
 emphatic humph ! and it was not until he observed that 
 the others had finished their meal, that he hastily drank off 
 his coffee at a draught, and rose from the table. 
 
 You need not remove the things now, Martha, said he, 
 as the rattling of the crockery announced that this process 
 was commencing. The noise disturbs me. I wish to be 
 alone for a short time ; and after that you can do as you 
 please. 
 
 The housekeeper made no reply; but went out, taking 
 the girl with her, and leaving Harry to his meditations. 
 
 That these were neither pleasant nor composing, was quite 
 evident; for after walking up and down with his hands in 
 his pockets, and muttering to himself, he finally stopped 
 short, and apparently addressing Spite for his eyes were 
 
HARRY HARSON. 189 
 
 fixed upon him, and Spite returned the look, as if he sup 
 posed that he was being consulted he broke out with : 
 
 * What am I to do ? This matter on my hands ; and 
 Ned, poor Ned, kicked adrift by the old man, and Kate 
 breaking her little heart about him ; and her father quietly 
 led by the nose to the Devil. There s no doubt about it ; 
 that fellow Rust s at the bottom of it all ; and no one 
 except me to unravel this knot. God bless me ! It bewilders 
 my brain, and my old head spins. But, Annie, Annie, my 
 poor little child ! if I forsake thee, may I never prosper ! 
 How now, Spite ? 
 
 This exclamation was caused by a somewhat singular pro 
 ceeding on the part of Spite, who, after looking at him as if 
 deeply interested in the tenor of his remarks, suddenly 
 uttered a sharp bark, and bolted from his chair as if shot 
 from a gun. The cause of this movement was soon shown 
 in the person of a man dressed in a very shabby suit of 
 black, with a beard of several days growth, who stood just 
 inside the door, and who, after a familiar nod to Harson, 
 asked : 
 
 Are all the family deaf except the dog ? 
 
 When a man enters a stranger s house, it is but proper 
 to knock, said Harson, sharply. 
 
 Did you want your house battered about your ears? 
 inquired the stranger ; for I did knock, until I was afraid it 
 might come to that. Perhaps you re deaf, old gentleman ; 
 
 if so, I m sorry for you ; but as for your d d dog, I wish 
 
 he was dumb. I can scarcely hear myself speak for him. 
 
 This explanation cleared from Harson s face every trace 
 of anger ; and silencing the dog, he said : * I did not hear 
 you ; and yet I am not deaf. 
 
 Well, I made noise enough, said the other. Is your 
 name Henry Harson ? 
 
190 HARRY H ARSON. 
 
 Harson answered in the affirmative. 
 
 The stranger took off his hat and placed it on a chair ; 
 after which, he thrust his hand in his pocket and pulled out 
 a letter. That s not it, said he, throwing it in his hat ; 
 * nor that] continued he, drawing out a handkerchief, which 
 he rolled in a veiy tight ball, and transferred to another 
 pocket. 
 
 I Ve got a letter some where, that I know. It must 
 belong to the mole family, for I put it uppermost, and it s 
 
 burrowed to the very bottom ; d d if it has n t ! Ah, 
 
 here it is, said he, after a violent struggle, bringing up both 
 a letter and a snuff-box. The former he handed to Harson, 
 and the latter he opened, and after applying each nostril 
 sideways to its contents, took a pinch between his fingers, 
 returned the box to his pocket, and, seating himself, snuffed 
 deliberately, all the while eyeing the breakfast-table with a 
 fixed, steady, immovable stare. 
 
 The thread-bare, poverty-stricken look and hungry eye of 
 his visitor was not lost on Harson, who, before opening the 
 letter, glanced at the table and at the stranger, and then 
 said : * It s early ; perhaps you have not yet breakfasted, 
 Mff. Mr. Mr 
 
 Kornicker, said the stranger. 
 
 Kornicker, Mr. Kornicker. If so, make yourself at home, 
 and help yourself while I look over this letter ; no ceremony. 
 I use none with you. Use none with me. 
 
 It was a tempting sight to poor Kornicker ; for there stood 
 the coffee-pot, steaming away at the spout ; and the dishes, 
 far from empty, and such rolls as he was not in the habit of 
 meeting every day ; but mingled with all his defects of cha 
 racter was a strong feeling of pride which made him hesi 
 tate ; and it is probable that pride would have carried the 
 
HARRY HARSON. 191 
 
 day, had not Harson, divining something of his feeling, 
 added : 
 
 Perhaps it s scarcely civil to ask you to the table, when 
 I have left it myself; but I should not stand on a trifle like 
 that with you ; and I hope you 11 not do so with me. Those 
 rolls are excellent ; try them. 
 
 He said no more ; but going to the window, broke the 
 seal of the letter and commenced reading. 
 
 Left to himself, Kornicker struggled manfully ; but hunger 
 got the better of all other feelings ; and at last, drawing his 
 chair to the table, he commenced a formidable attack upon 
 its contents. 
 
 So you re with Michael Rust, said Harson, after he had 
 finished reading the note, going to the table, and standing 
 opposite Kornicker. 
 
 Kornicker s teeth were just then engaged in a severe 
 struggle with a roll, and he could do nothing but nod an 
 affirmative. 
 
 1 Who is he ? inquired Harson ; * what s his profession ? 
 
 Kornicker swallowed his roll, and kept it down by half a 
 cup of coffee ; and then said : 
 
 As to who he is, all I know is, he s sometimes an old 
 man,- sometimes he is n t ; sometimes he wears a broad- 
 brimmed hat and a red handkerchief on his head, and some 
 times he do n t ; but who he is, or what he does, or where he 
 goes to, or where he comes from, or whom he knows, or 
 who knows him, curse me if / know. That s all I can 
 tell you, Sir. He s a mystery, done up in the carcass of a 
 
 little, dried-up man, of a d d uncertain age. May I 
 
 trouble you for the milk ? 
 
 1 Humph ! said Harson, in a very dissatisfied tone, at the 
 same time passing the milk ; and yet you are in his 
 employ ? 
 
192 HARRY HARSON. 
 
 Kornicker nodded. 
 
 * It s strange, muttered he, quite strange. 
 
 D d strange, said Kornicker, burying his face in a 
 
 huge coffee-cup, but true, continued he, setting it down. 
 
 True! repeated Harson ; true that you are in his 
 employ ; are in the habit of daily intercourse with him ; 
 attend to his concerns ; see him constantly, and yet do not 
 know who he is ! 
 
 Partly correct, partly incorrect, quoth Mr. Kornicker, 
 pushing his cup away. I m in his employ correct. I 
 know nothing of him correct again. As to the rest in 
 correct. Sometimes, I do n t see him for weeks ; sometimes 
 I have something to do often nothing. I never know 
 when he s going, or when he s coming back. 
 
 Harson stood quiet for some time. This is all very 
 strange. Do n t you know who arc his acquaintances or 
 associates ? 
 
 Kornicker shook his head. 
 
 Who comes to see him ? 
 * Nobody. 
 
 Do you never hear him speak of any one ? 
 
 Never heard him name a soul, till the other day he 
 named Enoch Grosket, and to-day you. 
 
 Do you know nothing of his mode of life, or intentions, 
 or plans, or whether he s honest or dishonest, or how he 
 lives, or where his money conies from, or what his family 
 is? 
 
 Nothing, said Kornicker. Indeed, it never struck me 
 till now, how much there was to know on the subject, and 
 how little conversant I was with it. 
 
 Shall / tell you who he is ? asked Harson. 
 
 Mr. Kornicker replied, that any information in his then 
 unenlightened state would be acceptable. 
 
HARRY EARS ON. 193 
 
 Well, then, lie s one of the veriest villains that ever 
 disgraced human nature. He s 
 
 * Come ! come ! none of that ! hold up, old gentleman ! 
 interrupted Kornicker, sitting bolt upright, and grasping 
 the handle of a coffee-cup with a somewhat hostile tenacity. 
 I ve just been eating your bread, backed by not a little 
 meat, and no small quantity of coffee, and therefore am 
 under obligations to you ; and of course, a quarrel with you 
 would be greatly against my stomach. But you must 
 recollect that Rust is my employer. What I eat, and drink, 
 and snuff, comes out of his pocket ; and although he was 
 small in some matters, yet he helped me when it required a 
 good deal of salt to save me ; my fortunes were not only at 
 an ebb, but they d got to dead low-tide. I m bound to 
 stand up for him, and I 11 do it. I ve no doubt he s the 
 d dest rascal going ; but I 11 not hear any one say so. 
 If I do, damme. So no more of that. Come, come, said 
 he, after a somewhat hostile survey of Ilarson s person ; * you 
 do n t look like the man to make a fellow regret that he s 
 broken your bread. 
 
 Quizzical as was the look of Kornicker, and vagabond as 
 he seemed, there was something in the open, blunt manner 
 in which he defended even Rust, that found an answering 
 note in the bosom of Harry ; and he said : 
 
 No, no, I am not. You re an honest fellow ; but I sup 
 pose there s no harm whatever in wishing you a better 
 employer ? 
 
 No, none at all, said Kornicker, after a minute s reflection ; 
 I often wish that myself; but, said he, with a philosophical 
 shake of the head, some people are born with a silver spoon 
 in their mouth, and I was n t one of them ; mine must have 
 been iron ; and I m rather inclined to think that there must 
 have been no bowl to it, for it always held mighty little. 
 9 
 
194 HARRY II ARSON. 
 
 There was a mixture of comicality and sadness in the 
 tone in which he spoke, which left Harson in doubt in what 
 strain to answer him. At last he drew a chair to the table : 
 leaning his two arms upon the back of it, and surveying his 
 guest attentively, he asked : * What s your business, if I 
 may be so bold ? 
 
 * Law, replied Kornicker, leaning back. I m the cham 
 pion of the distressed ; see widows and orphans righted, and 
 all that sort of thing. It s a great business devilish 
 great business. 
 
 And is Michael Rust a lawyer ? inquired Harson. 
 
 * No, I attend to that part of his concerns. He s a mere 
 child in matters of that kind ; but devilishly wide awake in 
 others. But come, old gentleman, said he, suddenly break 
 ing off, I m to thank you for a breakfast ; now let s have 
 an answer to the letter. It s time to be off. 
 
 Harson glanced at the letter, and then said : 
 
 1 Do you know the contents of this ? 
 
 Not a word of them, replied Kornicker. 
 
 Nor what it s about ? 
 
 No. Rust is neither confidential nor communicative, 
 replied Kornicker. So, what you ve got to say, say in 
 writing. I do n t want the trouble of thinking about it, or 
 trying to recollect it. 
 
 Humph ! said Harson. There s nothing here requiring 
 a great stretch of either. He wants me to meet him at his 
 office, on very particular business ; a request somewhat 
 singular, as I never laid eyes on him in my life. 
 
 Quite singular, ejaculated Kornicker. 
 
 But I know much about him ; and that leaves me no 
 desire to be more intimate with him. What do you think 
 of it ? 
 
 I think you re in luck, replied the other ; you re the 
 
HARRY H ARSON. 195 
 
 first that ever , was asked inside the door since I ve been 
 there. Several very nice, pleasant fellows of my acquaint 
 ance have dropped in occasionally ; and although his office 
 is nothing to brag of, d n me if he did n t invite them to 
 air themselves in the street, and not to come back ! It was 
 quite mortifying, especially as I was there at the time. 
 
 1 What did you do ? inquired Harson. 
 
 You Ve never seen Rust, you say ? said Kor^)ker, in 
 reply to the previous question. 
 
 Harson answered in the negative. 
 
 Well, Sir, if you had, you would n t ask that question. 
 I looked out of the window, and held my jaw that s what 
 I did ; and that s what I d advise you to do in the same 
 trying circumstances. But come, Sir, give me the answer. 
 
 Harson, after a moment s thought, said : * It is n t worth 
 while to write. Tell him I 11 come, or send some one. You 
 can remember that ? 
 
 Kornicker replied that he thought he could ; and taking 
 up his hat, and shaking hands with Harson, and favoring 
 Spite, who was examining the quality of the leg of his 
 pantaloons, with a sly kick, he went out. 
 
IOC HARRY HARSON. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 CoME, Spite, said Harson, when his visitor was gone, 
 we must be up and doing. This is not a business that can 
 be triiid with. The longer we put it off, the tighter will 
 the knot be drawn. Stop until I get the papers. Leaving 
 the room for a moment, he returned fully equipped for 
 walking; with a huge handkerchief wrapped round his 
 chin, and his broad-brimmed beaver pulled tightly down 
 over his forehead. Now my cane, Spite, and we 11 see if 
 we can t get to the bottom of this deviltry. We re em 
 barked in a good cause, my old pup, and must n t give up. 
 It s a glorious day ; the air s bracing, and will make your 
 old bones quite young again. Hey ! what spirits you re in ! 
 said he, as Spite, elated at being associated in so important 
 a matter, after wriggling his body in a most convulsive 
 manner, by way of expressing his satisfaction, finally fell 
 over on his back, in an abortive effort to perform a hilarious 
 pirouette on his hind legs. * Never mind, old fellow, said 
 Harson; pick yourself up; accidents will happen to the 
 best of us. I warrant me you d have done it better ten 
 years ago ; do n t be down-hearted about it. We re going 
 to see old Holmes ; and when you and I and old Holmes 
 are thoroughly at work in sifting this matter, why, Rust had 
 better look sharp. Hey, Spite ? 
 
 Thus talking to his dog, or whistling to himself, or 
 exchanging a cheery word with an acquaintance as he 
 passed, the old man trudged along, followed at a very staid 
 pace by his dog, who, since his late unsuccessful effort, had 
 fallen into a very serious mood, notwithstanding all the 
 
HARRY HARSON. 197 
 
 efforts of his master to raise his spirits and to banish the 
 recollection of it from his mind. 
 
 The person whom Harson sought was a little antiquated 
 man, who had buried himself among his books, and spent 
 his time in burrowing in out-of-the-way corners of the law. 
 He had wormed his way into all its obsolete nooks, and 
 haunted those regions of it which had become deserted, and 
 as it were grass-grown from long disuse. By degrees he 
 had shrunk from a practice which had once promised to be 
 large ; and a name which had once bid fair to shine brightly 
 in the annals of the law, gradually grew faint in memory, 
 as its owner was missed from those places where the constant 
 rush of the crowd soon wears out any impress made by 
 those who are no longer seen. But there were times when 
 the old man looked out from his den, and prowled among 
 those who had crowded in his place ; and there were t mes 
 (but those were on rare occasions, when some exciting case 
 would be on the carpet) when he would steal into the 
 court- room, with a bundle of papers under his arm ; and 
 would take his seat at the table among the counsel engaged 
 in the case ; sitting silent throughout the whole ; speaking 
 to none ; taking no notes ; watching the witnesses with his 
 dim eyes ; studying the faces of the jury ; occasionally 
 referred to by the other counsel ; but taking no part in any 
 discussion, until the evidence was closed, and the cause was 
 to be summed up ; and then, to the surprise of all, except 
 the bench and a few of the oldest of the bar, rising to 
 address the jury; commencing in a low, feeble tone, and 
 apparently sinking with infirmity, until by degrees his dim 
 eye became like fire ; his faint voice like the clear ringing of 
 a bell ; his eloquence as burning as if flowing from the lips 
 of manhood s prime ; his sarcasm withering ; his logic 
 strong, clear, fervid, and direct; no loitering, no circumlo- 
 
198 HARRY EARS ON. 
 
 cution, no repetition : what he had to say he said once, and 
 only once. Those who missed it then waited in vain for 
 something of the same nature to explain it ; it never came. 
 His object was before him, and he hurried onward to it, 
 sweeping every thing before him and carrying all with him. 
 And when he had concluded, as he gathered his papers and 
 left the court, the elder members of the bar would say 
 to each other : Old Holmes is himself again ; and the 
 younger ones wondered who he was ; and as they learned 
 his name, remembered dimly of having heard it as that of 
 one who had lived in by-gone days. 
 
 His office was not in the business part of the town ; but 
 in a quiet, shady street, which few frequented, filled with 
 huge trees, and so quiet and out of the way that it seemed 
 like a church-yard. Thither Harson bent his steps ; and it 
 was not long before he found himself in his office. 
 
 It was a large, dim room, with high shelves filled with 
 volumes and papers, reaching to the low ceiling. Long, 
 dusty cobwebs hung trailing from the walls : the very 
 spiders who had formed them, finding that they caught 
 nothing, had abandoned them. The floor was thickly car 
 peted; and a few chairs were scattered about, with odd 
 volumes lying upon them. Upon a table covered with a 
 green cloth were piles of loose papers, ends of old pens, torn 
 scraps of paper, and straggling bits of red tape. Altogether, 
 it was a sombre-looking place, so still and gloomy, and with 
 such a chilly, forbidding air, that it seemed not unlike one 
 of those mysterious chambers which used to abound in anti 
 quated castles and tumbling-down old houses, with a ghost- 
 story hanging to their skirts ; or which some ill-natured 
 fairy had doomed to be shut up for a hundred years : and 
 the little, thin, dried-up man who sat in the far corner of it, 
 with every faculty buried in the large volume on his knees, 
 
HARRY HARSON. 199 
 
 looked as though he might have dwelt there for the whole 
 of that period. Had it been so, it would have been the same 
 to him ; for in that dim room had he spent the most of his 
 life, immersed in the musty volumes about him ; now and 
 then coming to the surface, to see that the world had not 
 disappeared while he was busy ; and then diving again to 
 follow out some dark under-current, which was to lead him, 
 God knows whither. What was the world to him ? What 
 cared he for its schemes and dreams and turmoil ? The law 
 was every thing to him ; home, family, and friends. God 
 help him ! a poor lone man, with kindly feelings and a 
 warm, open heart, which might have made a fireside happy ; 
 but now without a soul to whom he might claim kindred. 
 Many respected him ; some pitied him, and a few, a very 
 few, loved him. There he sat day after day, and often until 
 the day ran into night, delving, and diving, and pondering, 
 and thinking ; a living machine, working like a slave for his 
 clients ; alike for rich and poor, the powerful and the friend 
 less ; beyond a bribe ; too honest to fear or care for public 
 opinion ; strenuous in asserting the rights of others, and 
 never enforcing his own, lest he might give pain to another. 
 God help him ! I say. He was not the man for this striv 
 ing, struggling world ; and perhaps it was well for him that 
 in his murky pursuits he found that contentment which 
 many others wanted. Yet he never freed his mind from its 
 trammels, and looked abroad upon the wide world, with its 
 myriads of throbbing hearts, but he found in it those whom 
 he could love and could help. God help Aim, did I say ? 
 Rather, God help those who warp and twist the abilities, 
 talents, and wealth which are showered upon them, to un 
 holy purposes ; who make the former the slaves to minister 
 to deeds and passions at which human nature might blush ; 
 and the last but the stepping-stone to selfish aggrandizement, 
 
200 HARRY H ARSON. 
 
 or the nucleus around which to gather greater store. Pity 
 them, but not him; for although but a pale, thin, sickly 
 being, with barely a hold upon life, with scarce the strength 
 of a child, growing old, and withered, and feeble without 
 knowing it ; yet was he all-powerful, from the bright, bold 
 spirit that animated him, and a soul stern in its own inte 
 grity, which shrank from nothing except evil ; and blessed 
 was he, far above all earthly blessings, with a heart ever 
 warm, ever open, and in which God had infused a noble 
 share of his own benevolence and love to man. 
 
 It is no wonder then that Harry Harson, when he stood 
 in the presence of one in heart so akin to himself, paused 
 and gazed upon him with a softened eye. 
 
 Holmes, Dick Holmes, said he, after a moment, are 
 you at leisure ? 
 
 The old lawyer started, looked wistfully up, contracting 
 his dim eyes so as to distinguish the features of the person 
 who addressed him, and then doubling down the leaf of the 
 book which he had been reading, rose and advanced hesitat 
 ingly until he recognized him. 
 
 Ah, Harson ! said he, extending his hand quietly ; 
 honest old Harry, as we used to call you, continued he, 
 smiling; I m glad to see you. Few except those who 
 come on business cross my threshold ; so you, are the more 
 welcome. Sit down. 
 
 He pushed a chair toward him, and drawing another close 
 to it, took a . seat, and looked earnestly in his face.. Time 
 doesn t tell on you, Harry; nor on me much, 1 said he, 
 looking at his attenuated fingers; still it does tell. My 
 flesh is not so firm and hard as it used to be; and I m 
 getting thinner I ve thought for some months past of 
 relaxing a little, and of stealing off for a day to the country, 
 and of rambling in its woods and fields, and breathing its 
 
HARRY HARSON. 201 
 
 pure air. It would quite build me up ; perhaps you 11 go 
 with me 1 
 
 That I will, with all my heart, said Harson ; that I 
 will ; and right glad am I to hear you say so ; for it s 
 enough to break down a frame of iron to spend hour after 
 hour in this stagnant room, poring over these musty books. 
 
 Holmes looked about the room, and at his volumes, and 
 then said, in a somewhat deprecating tone : 
 
 4 1 ve been very happy here. It does not seem gloomy to 
 me ; at least, not very gloomy. But come ; I 11 walk out 
 with you now. It does me good sometimes to see what is 
 going on out of doors ; if I can only find a person I care 
 for, to keep me company. 
 
 He half rose as he spoke ; but Harson placed his hand 
 on his arm, and told him to keep his seat. 
 
 You made a mistake this time, said he, in a good- 
 natured tone, and beginning to fumble in his pockets; 
 business brought me here to-day ; business, and a desire to 
 follow the suggestions of a clearer head than mine. 
 
 As he spoke, he drew from his pocket the package of 
 letters, and placed it before the lawyer. 
 
 * Before you examine these, I must tell you what they are 
 about. Perhaps you won t believe me, but these letters will 
 confirm every word I say. You must hear my story, read 
 them, and then tell me frankly and fairly what to do ; not 
 only as a lawyer, but as a friend. I shall need your advice 
 as both. 
 
 You shall have it, said Holmes ; go on. 
 
 The tale which Harson told was sufficient to arouse every 
 feeling of indignation in the lawyer. As Harson went on, 
 Holmes became excited, until, unable to control himself, he 
 rose from his chair and paced the room, with every honest 
 and upright feeling in arms. He forgot every thing but the 
 
202 HARRY If A R SON. 
 
 deep wrongs which were recited. Debility and age were 
 trampled under foot; and his voice, clear and loud, rang 
 through the room, scorching in its denunciation of the 
 wrong-doer, and bitter in its threats of retribution. Then 
 it was that the spirit showed its mastery over the clay, and, 
 spurning the feeble form which clogged it, shone forth, 
 strong in its own might, a glorious type of the lofty source 
 from which it sprang. But suddenly he sat down; and 
 passing his hand across his face, said in a feeble tone : I am 
 easily excited now-a-days, but I will command myself. Go 
 on ; I will not interrupt you again. 
 
 As he spoke, he placed his arms on the table, and leaned 
 his head upon them ; and this position he maintained with 
 out asking a question or making a comment, until Harson 
 had finished speaking ; and when he looked up, his face had 
 assumed its usual quiet expression. 
 
 Do these letters prove what you say, beyond a doubt ? 
 he asked. 
 
 * I think so. 
 
 And why do you suppose them to be written by Rust ? 
 The name, you say, is different. 
 
 I had it from a person who would swear to it. By the 
 way, added he, suddenly, I have just received a letter from 
 Rust. I 11 compare the writing with those ; that will 
 prove it. 
 
 He took the letter from his pocket, and placed it beside 
 the others ; and his countenance fell. They were as unlike 
 as possible. 
 
 Holmes shook his head. 4 You may have hit upon the 
 wrong man, or you may have been purposely put on a false 
 scent. There certainly is no resemblance between these, 
 said he, carefully comparing the two ; * not even in the 
 general character of the hand. 
 
HARRY H ARSON. 203 
 
 Harson could not but admit the fact. It was too 
 evident. 
 
 Look over the whole bundle/ said he. There are at 
 least twenty of them. If this is a disguised hand, it is 
 possible that he may have betrayed himself in some of the 
 others. 
 
 The lawyer went over the letters, one by one, carefully 
 comparing them ; but still the character was the same. All 
 of them were in the free, flowing style of a good penman ; 
 while the letter which Harson had produced was written in 
 a bold, but stiff and ungraceful hand. 
 
 Where did you get this ? said Holmes, pointing to the 
 one which Harson had received from Kornicker. 
 
 * It was brought to me by a clerk of his this morning/ 
 Then you know him. ? said Holmes. 
 
 * I never saw him in my life. 
 
 Have you ever had any business with him through 
 others ? 
 
 Harson shook his head. Never. 
 
 How do you know that the person who brought this 
 letter was from Bust ? inquired he. 
 
 The letter proposes an interview. If it is n t from him, 
 the cheat would be found out when I go. 
 
 How long have you been ferreting out this matter ? 
 
 Several weeks. 
 
 Have you worked in secret, or openly ? inquired Holmes. 
 
 I kept the matter as quiet as I could, replied Harson, 
 because I did n t want him to get wind of it, and place 
 obstacles in my way ; but still, I was obliged to employ 
 several persons of whom I know little. 
 
 Then this Rust is the man, you may rely on it, said 
 Holmes, in a positive manner. He has discovered that you 
 are busy, and is startled at it. Depend on it, this wish 
 
204 HARRY H ARSON. 
 
 to see you has something to do with your present move 
 ments. 
 
 I thought so too, said Harson, and shall go there this 
 morning. 
 
 * I 11 go too, said Holmes ; and the sooner \ve start, the 
 better. 
 
 Thank you, thank you, said Harson, stretching out his 
 hand ; * the very thing I wanted. 
 
 The old lawyer said no more ; but after searching about 
 his room for his hat and great-coat, and having succeeded, 
 without any great difficulty, in putting on the last, (for he 
 had no idea how shrunken and attenuated he was, and it 
 was large enough for a man of double his size,) and sup 
 ported by Harry s steady arm, they set out. 
 
 Stop a minute, said Harson ; * we ve shut Spite in. 
 There 11 be the deuce to pay if we leave him. Come, pup. 
 He opened the door ; and Spite having leisurely obeyed hia 
 call, they resumed their walk. 
 
HARRY H ARSON. 205 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 MICHAEL RUST sat in his office with his arms twined 
 round his knees, and his chin bowed down to them, like a 
 wild beast crouching to spring. His thin cheek was thinner 
 than on the day before ; his hair tangled and matted. But 
 he neither moved nor changed his position ; and the black 
 flashing eye, which darted hither and thither, never resting, 
 even for a moment, alone showed that his mind was on the 
 alert. 
 
 He was awaiting the return of his messenger. Persons 
 ascended and descended the stairs; and as the morning 
 advanced, and the hours of business approached, the sound 
 of out-door bustle increased, until a perfect current of 
 human beings seemed to pour through the street. Still, 
 Rust sat there in silence, watching the return of his clerk. 
 Once, he fancied that he distinguished his voice in the entry. 
 He got up, opened the door, and looked out ; a strange man 
 was loitering in the passage, but no one else. He shut it, 
 dragged a chair to the middle of the room, stamped it down 
 heavily, and flung himself into it. A step slowly ascended 
 the stairs. He was certain this time. It was Kornicker. 
 There was no mistaking that heavy, irregular tread ; but, 
 nevertheless, Rust did not stir until the door opened and 
 Kornicker walked in. 
 
 * Your answer ! said Rust, looking at him, as if to read 
 his success in his features. 
 
 He 11 come. 
 
 When? 
 
206 HARRY H ARSON. 
 
 1 He did n t say, replied liis clerk, shutting the door by 
 butting his shoulder against it. 
 
 4 Did he write ? 
 
 No. 
 
 Good ! replied Rust, abruptly. Any thing else ? 
 
 No. If you ve done with me, I 11 get my breakfast. 
 
 Go. 
 
 Kornicker departed, and Rust relapsed into his old atti 
 tude, occasionally biting his nails, or passing his fingers 
 through his matted hair, or casting a suspicious glance 
 toward the door. 
 
 Half an hour had passed, and Rust was absorbed in his 
 own thoughts, when he was startled by a heavy step at his 
 door. He sat up in his chair, and listened attentively, hold 
 ing his breath. There was something in that step which he 
 did not like. It was calm, slow, and deliberate. He hoped 
 that it would pass on, but it did not. Two hard knocks at 
 the door followed. 
 
 Come in, said Rust, without rising. 
 
 The door opened, and Harson and Holmes entered. Still 
 Rust sat where he was, with his black eyes peering from 
 beneath his heavy brows, and glancing from face to face. 
 
 I m seeking a Mr. Rust, said Harson, advancing. 
 
 That s me. My name is Rust, was the laconic answer. 
 
 And mine is Harson, replied the other. I received this 
 note this morning, said he, pointing to the letter which he 
 had received from Kornicker, and have come to keep the 
 appointment proposed in it. 
 
 Rust moved uneasily on his chair, and turned to the 
 lawyer ; but, seeing that no farther efforts at opening a con 
 versation were made by his visitors, he pointed to Holmes, 
 and asked : 
 
 Is that gentleman s name Henry Harson too ? 
 
HARRY EARS ON. 207 
 
 * No, replied Harson. 
 
 Then he was n t invited here. My note was to Henry 
 Harson, and to no one else. My conversation is to be on 
 private matters, which I don t choose to make known to 
 every body. 
 
 Perhaps it is as well that I should go, said Holmes, 
 without any trace of anger. I ll leave you, Harry, and 
 will return in half an hour. 
 
 He was leaving the room, when Harson laid his hand on 
 his arm, and said : 
 
 No, no ; do n t go,. Dick ; I can t spare you. Turning to 
 Rust, he added : There are no secrets between this man 
 nnd me, and I do n t intend that there shall be. So, what 
 you have to say, you must -speak out before us both, or keep 
 it to yourself. 
 
 Rust eyed him for a few moments in silence, with his thin 
 lips closely compressed, and then looked on the floor, appa 
 rently making up his mind. At length he said, in a slow 
 tone : * So you will have him here, will you ? Well, be it 
 so. Should what I say hit hard, thank yourself that one 
 more knows it than is necessary ! 
 
 He went to the table and took up a letter, which he 
 handed to Harson. * Did you write that ? 
 
 Harson opened it, and ran his eye over it. * I did, said 
 he. How came you by it ? 
 
 No matter. You ll find that out some day; but not 
 now. I may have borrowed it, I may have found jft, or 
 bought it, or begged it, or stolen it. Michael Rust, you 
 know, is not too good to do any thing. I think you hinted 
 something of the kind in it. 
 
 Harson passed the letter to Holmes, who, seating himself, 
 deliberately perused it, and turned it over, and examined the 
 with a kind of habitual caution. There was a smile 
 
208 HARRY H ARSON. 
 
 upon his lips as he read it, that puzzled Rust. It s not at 
 all improbable that he may have stolen it, said he, folding it 
 up, and returning it to Harson. * The language is free, but 
 no doubt it is deserved. 
 
 Bust s eyes fairly shot fire, as they encountered the calm, 
 steady gaze of the old lawyer. But he could not look him 
 down, and he turned away and said : 
 
 I rn not fond of law, or there is that in that letter which, 
 if revenged in a court of justice, would fall heavily upon 
 the writer of it. 
 
 1 Perhaps so, perhaps so, said Holmes, in reply. 
 
 4 Well, Sir, I 11 not waste time about this matter, but will 
 state why I sent for you ; which was, not to ask favors, but 
 to warn you against the consequence of your own acts. For 
 weeks, a man whose gray hairs might have brought prudence 
 with them, has been at work in the dark, tracking my foot 
 steps, prying into my actions ; throwing out insinuations 
 against me ; asserting nothing openly, but doing every thing 
 in secret ; working with the vilest tools, and frequenting the 
 haunts of the very offscouring of the earth. It was a noble 
 pursuit, said he, bitterly, * and it was worthy of the person 
 upon whom I was at last able to fix it. That person was 
 yow, said he, pointing to Harson. Stop, Sir ! said he, 
 seeing that Harson was going to speak, stop, Sir. Your 
 turn will come. Hear what / yet have to say. I have told 
 you what you have done ; I have told you too that I hated 
 law ; but if you think that I am a man who will submit to 
 be hunted down like a beast, and branded in the eyes of 
 the world, with impunity, you do n t know Michael Rust. 
 
 Harson s fingers had gradually closed, until his fist as 
 sumed a form not unlike the head of a sledge-hammer ; and 
 for a short time it was a matter of no small doubt whether 
 it would not light upon the sharp, fierce face that glared 
 
HARRY H ARSON. 209 
 
 upon him. But a cautioning glance from Holmes called him 
 to himself; and he replied in a manner which, if less to the 
 point, was at least more peaceable: What I have done, I 
 will abide by; what I intend to do, you ll find out, and that 
 soon. Take your own course, and I 11 take mine. If you 
 are innocent, you ll not be injured; if you are not, you ll 
 get your deserts. 
 
 Rust bit his lips at this quiet answer. Perhaps, said he, 
 in a low, sneering tone, since you seem to be so anxious to 
 pry into my conduct, you may obtain more authentic infor 
 mation by applying to me in person ; and perhaps you will 
 not object to make my misdeeds, of which you hint so freely, 
 known to me, who certainly am interested in learning what 
 they are. 
 
 Harson drew Holmes to the other end of the room, where 
 they whispered together for some moments ; after which, 
 Holmes turned to Rust, and said : 
 
 4 Your name, I think, is Michael Rust ? 
 
 That is my name, replied Rust, bowing stiffly. 
 
 And you accuse Mr. Harson of having endeavored to 
 injure your character ? 
 
 I do, replied Rust. 
 
 Perhaps your memory may lead you astray, and his 
 remarks and allusions may refer to another than yourself. 
 
 Michael Rust turned from him with a contemptuous 
 smile ; and then tapping the letter with his finger, said : 
 Ink never forgets. Henry Harson and his friend may both 
 vary their story, but this is always the same, and the slan 
 ders once uttered against me here, are here still unchanged 
 and unsoftened. 
 
 Against you ? repeated Holmes. * Read it again. You 
 are not even mentioned in it. 
 
 Rust glanced at it ; and the lawyer thought that for a 
 
210 HARRY H ARSON. 
 
 moment he observed a change in his features. If so, it was 
 but momentary; for he answered in the same low tone, 
 though perhaps with even more of a sneer : 
 
 It was a trap, was it ? Pah ! a child could see through 
 it ! It alludes to one Henry Cotton. The charges are made 
 against him. I 11 save you the trouble of farther manoeuvring 
 to obtain information on that point, by informing you that 
 Henry Colton and Michael Rust are one. I 11 inform you 
 too that you knew it before you came here. If you wish it, 
 I 11 give you the same admission in writing. 
 
 I accept your offer, said Holmes, quietly. There s 
 paper, said he, pointing to the table ; * write it on that. 
 
 Rust cast an angry glance at him, and seemed to hesitate 
 but he saw that he was watched narrowly, and must not 
 shrink. So he sat down and scrawled something, which he 
 pushed to Holmes. 
 
 Holmes read it over slowly : Alter that ; the wording is 
 not clear, said he, pointing out a paragraph which did 
 not suit him. 
 
 Rust took up the pen and altered the phrase. 
 
 Perhaps that will do? said he, again handing it to 
 Holmes. 
 
 That s just what I want, replied the lawyer, running his 
 eye over it, and apparently weighing every word. But you 
 are very forgetful. You have n t signed it. 
 
 Rust took the paper and signed his name to it. I hope 
 you are satisfied. I suppose you have me now, said he, 
 with a sneer. 
 
 I think I have] replied Holmes, folding up the paper, 
 and putting it in his pocket. Have you any farther re 
 marks to make to Mr. Harson or myself? What you have 
 done has been of much service, and will save us a great 
 deal of trouble. 
 
HARRY HARSON. 211 
 
 * None, replied Rust ; I sent for him] said he, pointing to 
 Harson, to let him know that I was aware of his proceed 
 ings, and to warn him that I was prepared to defend myself; 
 and that if he persisted in his attacks upon me, he would do 
 so at his peril. 
 
 It is well, said Holmes. * It s frank in you, and no doubt 
 Mr. Harson feels grateful. And now that you have finished, 
 perhaps you will listen to a strange tale which I am going 
 to narrate to you. I wish you to pay particular attention, 
 as you may find it interesting. It s quite romantic, but 
 strictly true. 
 
 Once upon a time, (that s the way stories begin, I think,) 
 there were two brothers living at a place far from this city? 
 the names of whom were George and Henry Colton. The 
 former received a large property from a distant relative, 
 while the means of the latter were limited ; so much so, that 
 but for the liberality of his elder brother, he would have 
 found it utterly impossible to live in the style and manner 
 in which he always did and still is accustomed to live. 
 
 Well, Sir, does this refer to me ? said Rust ; and if it 
 does, and is true, what then ? 
 
 * I have not finished, replied Holmes. * You shall hear 
 the rest. Shortly after the accession of George Colton to 
 this property, he married ; but previous to doing so, to 
 secure his brother against want, he settled upon him 
 property sufficient to produce him a handsome income. 
 
 Well, Sir, said Rust, what then ? 
 
 You shall hear, replied Holmes. By this marriage 
 George Colton had two children, who in the course of law 
 would have inherited his entire property, had they been 
 living at the time of his death. These children had reached 
 the ages of two or three years, when they were lost in a very 
 singular manner. They had been left alone by their nurse, 
 
212 HARRY HARSON. 
 
 in a room in their father s house ; and when she returned, 
 after the lapse of a very few minutes, they were gone ; and 
 from that day to this their parents have had no tidings of 
 them. Search was made in every direction ; rewards were 
 offered ; persons were employed in all parts of the country, 
 and descriptions of the missing children were placarded in 
 every quarter. No one was more earnest and untiring in his 
 efforts to find them than Henry Colton, the younger brother ; 
 for he remembered only his brother s past kindness ; entirely 
 forgetting, that if these children were dead, he would, in all 
 probability, receive his brother s vast property. But he was 
 equally unsuccessful with th,e others. By degrees, hope 
 grew fainter, and the efforts of all, except this noble younger 
 brother, relaxed ; but he travelled, wrote, had agents em 
 ployed in every direction, and, I am told, is still endeavoring 
 to unravel this mystery. And now, said he, in a low, stern 
 tone, shall I tell you the reason why he failed ? It was 
 this : The agents employed by him were put on a false 
 scent ; and although a high reward was offered for the dis 
 covery of the children, a higher one was paid for keeping 
 the place of their concealment secret. Shall I tell you, 
 added the lawyer, in the same tone, who paid the bribe ? 
 That same noble Henry Colton, the younger brother ; and 
 what s more, that same man sometimes bore the name of 
 Michael Rust. All this can be proved beyond the shadow 
 of a doubt, and will be, in a court of justice, if we are com 
 pelled to do it. 
 
 The lawyer paused, and looked Rust steadily in the face. 
 
 4 Well, Sir, said Rust, part of what you say is true. I 
 know that the children were lost ; I know that I did what I 
 could to find them. As to the rest, it is false, and I care 
 nothing for it. They are dead, I fear. 
 
 * Not quite, replied Holmes. One of them is already 
 
HARRY EAR SON. 213 
 
 rescued ; so that Michael Rust s hopes and schemes are 
 thwarted ; and his only chance to escape the arm of the law 
 is to give up the other, or to tell where he is. 
 
 Rust turned toward him, and looking him steadily in the 
 face, said : Well, Sir, if this be true, I m glad of it ; but if 
 some designing scoundrel is desirous of palming off his own 
 brats on an honest man, to swindle him out of his property, 
 let him beware, lest he run his legs into shackles. For my 
 part, I Ve no doubt that the whole tale is a fabrication of 
 that old man s, said he, pointing to Harson, got up for no 
 honest purpose. 
 
 That s false ! replied Holmes, sternly. Lie as you 
 will ; deny as stoutly as you please ; I tell you that what I 
 have said is true, and that you know it to be so. 
 
 Rust grew deadly pale, but said nothing. 
 
 And I tell you again, said Holmes, in the same stern 
 voice, that your only hope of escaping punishment is in 
 giving up the remaining child, or in giving such informa 
 tion as may lead to his discovery. Do that, and we will 
 show you all the favor we can. 
 
 Nay, more, added Ilarson ; we will never let it be 
 known what you had to do with it. We 11 let it be supposed 
 that the children were stolen, and found. We will keep it 
 quiet, won t we, Ned ? said he, walking up to the lawyer, 
 and laying his hand on his shoulder. 
 
 You Ve said so, and your promise must be kept, replied 
 Holmes. I should n t have made it. But you must decide 
 at once. 
 
 Michael Rust had sat as still as a statue, merely turning 
 his eyes from one to the other, as they spoke. 
 
 Have you done ? asked he, in a voice as quiet and com 
 posed as if the threats just uttered had no reference to 
 himself. 
 
214 HARRY HARSON. 
 
 * You have heard all that we have to offer, said Holmes. 
 
 You re very kind, replied Rust ; * you re very kind ; but 
 you do n t know Michael Rust. He accepts favors from no 
 man. There, there go ! He values your threats and 
 promises alike ; and neither the one nor the other will turn 
 him one inch from his own course, to aid you in your dis 
 honest purpose of passing off your own brats as the lost 
 children of George Colton. He can t lend himself to such 
 an iniquitous scheme it s against his conscience. Good- 
 morning. Our interview is ended, I think. I m sorry to 
 see gray hairs so steeped in depravity. 
 
 Michael Rust, said Holmes, turning to him, you have 
 sealed your own doom. I m glad you ve rejected our 
 offers, and I now withdraw them. You re unworthy of 
 them ; and you shall have no other grace than that what 
 the law extends to a felon. 
 
 Rust bowed. 4 You re kind. I shall not trouble you to 
 repeat the offer. As for the grace extended to felons, I 
 believe there is a law which makes a conspiracy to defraud 
 a felony likewise. It takes three to make a conspiracy, in 
 law ; but I have no doubt you have abettors. Perhaps you 
 had better examine the matter. I wish you good-morning, 
 gentlemen ; I wish to be alone. 
 
 Rust sat without moving, until the sound of their footsteps 
 descending the stairs was lost, and then he sprang to his feet. 
 
 1 Now, then, exclaimed he, I know where I am ! Now I 
 can see where to strike. Ha ! ha ! We 11 see who conquers, 
 Harry Harson or Michael Rust a desperate man, who has 
 no alternative but to succeed or die. I know where the 
 mine is to be sprung ; and I will countermine ! 
 
 Listless, desponding, and irresolute as to his course, as he 
 had been before his interview with Harson, all trace of irreso 
 lution had disappeared now. He had decided upon the steps 
 
HARRY UARSON. 215 
 
 to be taken ; and, desperate as they were, he was not the 
 man to hesitate. The anxiety which had borne him down 
 disappeared as he ascertained the extent of his danger, and 
 was able to nerve himself to cope with it ; and his manner 
 was not only cheerful but merry, and his eye shone with a 
 self-confidence not unlike that of a gladiator preparing for a 
 conflict in which he or his adversary must perish. 
 
 Lingering in his office only long enough to give his visitors 
 time to get some distance off, he put on his hat, locked the 
 door, placed the key over it, so that Kornicker might know 
 where to find it, and sallied out into the street. 
 
216 HARRY HARSON. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 NOTWITHSTANDING his having made what most persons 
 would have considered a hearty meal at Harry Ilarson s, Mr. 
 Kornicker had nevertheless such perfect reliance on his own 
 peculiar gastronomic abilities, that he did not in the least 
 shrink from again testing them. Leaving Michael Rust s 
 presence with an alacrity which bordered upon haste, he 
 descended into the refectory with somewhat of a jaunty 
 air, humming a tune, and keeping time to it by an occasion 
 al flourish of the fingers. Having seated himself, he closed 
 his eyes ; thrust his feet at full length under the table ; 
 plunged both hands to the very bottom of his pockets, where 
 they grasped spasmodically two cents and a small key, and 
 laughed silently for more than a minute. 
 
 A queer dog ! a very queer dog ! d d queer, old 
 
 Michael is ! Well, that s his business, not mine. 
 
 Having thus expressed his opinion, he sat up, became 
 grave, and looked about in search of the waiter. In doing 
 so, his eyes encountered those of a short fat man at a table 
 near him, who at the first glance seemed to be reading a 
 newspaper, but at the second, seemed to be reconnoitering 
 him over it. Mr. Kornicker, observing this, not only returned 
 his glance, but added a wink to it by way of interest. The 
 man thereupon laid down his paper, and nodded. 
 
 Mr. Kornicker nodded in reply ; and said he hoped he was 
 well, and that his wife and small children were equally 
 fortunate. 
 
HARRY HARSON. 217 
 
 The face of the stranger was a round, jolly face, with two 
 little eyes that twinkled and glistened between their fat lids, 
 as if they were very devils for fun ; and his whole appear 
 ance was cosy and comfortable. His chin was double ; his 
 stomach round and plump, with an air of respectability; 
 and he occasionally passed his hand over it, as if to say : 
 Ah ha ! beat that if you can ! But notwithstanding his 
 merry look, at Mr. Kornicker s last remark his face grew 
 long ; and with a melancholy shake of his head, he pointed 
 to his hat, which hung on a peg above him, and was swathed 
 in a broad band of crape, terminating in two stiff skirts pro 
 jecting from it like a rudder, and giving it the appearance of 
 a corpulent butterfly in mourning, at roost on the wall. 
 
 Ah ! said Mr. Kornicker, looking at the hat, that s 
 it? 
 
 4 Yes, replied the stranger, with a deep sigh, * that s it. 
 
 Father ? inquired Mr. Kornicker, nodding significantly 
 toward the hat. 
 
 No wife, replied the other. 
 
 Dead I inquired Mr. Kornicker. 
 
 Dead as a hammer. 
 
 Was it long or short ? consumption or fits ? asked Mr. 
 Kornicker, drawing up his feet, and turning so as to face the 
 stranger, by way of evincing the interest which he felt in his 
 melancholy situation. 
 
 The man shook his head, and was so affected that he was 
 troubled with a temporary cold in his head ; which having 
 alleviated by the aid of his handkerchief, he said : * Poor 
 woman, she undertook to present me with a fine boy, last 
 week, and it proved too much for her. It exhausted her 
 animal natur , and she decamped on a sudden. She was a 
 very fine woman a very fine woman. I always said 
 she was. 
 
 10 
 
218 HARRY HARSON. 
 
 And the child ? inquired Kornicker, I hope it s well. 1 
 
 Quite well, I thank you. It went along with her. They 
 are both better off : saints in heaven, both of em ; out of 
 this wale of tears. 
 
 Mr. Kornicker told him to heer up. He said that ever] 
 man had a crook in his lot. Some men had big crooks, and 
 some men had little crooks ; and although this crook made 
 rather a bad elbow in his lot, that perhaps all the rest wai 
 square and straight, and he could build on it to advantage, 
 especially if it was twenty-live feet by a hundred, which was 
 the ordinary width and length of lots in general. 
 
 Having deiivered himself of this rather confused allegory, 
 Mr. Kornicker, by way of farther consolation, drew out his 
 snuff-box, and stretching out as far as was possible without 
 falling from his chair, tendered it to the stranger, who, in 
 return, leaning so far forward as slightly to raise his person 
 from the chair, gently inserted his ringers in the box, and 
 helped himself to a pinch, at the same time remarking thai 
 it 4 was a great comfort, in his trying situation, to find friends 
 who sympathized with his misfortunes. That he had found 
 it so ; and that Mr. Kornicker was a man whose feelings did 
 credit to human natur . 
 
 Kornicker disclaimed being any thing above the ordinary 
 run of men, or that his feelings were more than every other 
 man possessed, or ought to possess. But the stranger was 
 vehement in his assertions to the contrary; so much so, that 
 he rose from his seat, and drawing a chair to the opposite 
 side of Kornicker s table, proposed that they should break 
 fast together. 
 
 Kornicker shook his head : 
 
 1 It s against the agreement, said he ; it can t be done. 
 
 * But it can, Sir it shall, Sir ! A man of your sympa 
 thies is not to be met with every day, and must be breakfast- 
 
HARRY HARSON. 219 
 
 ed with, whether he will or not agreement or no agree 
 ment. Do n t agreement me ! said the stranger, lifting up 
 his chair, and setting it down opposite Kornicker, with great 
 emphasis. What s the natur of this agreement ? 
 
 Mr. Kornicker assumed a very grave and legal expression 
 of countenance, and without replying, asked : 
 
 * What s your name ? 
 
 Ezra Scrake. 
 
 I, Edward Kornicker, forbid you, Ezra Scrake, from 
 breakfasting with me ; telling you that it is contrary to a 
 certain agreement, referred to but not set forth ; and I now 
 repeat the request that you will forthwith retire to another 
 table, and that I be permitted to take my meal by myself. 
 He threw himself back in his chair, and looked Mr. Scrake 
 full in the face. 
 
 And I, Ezra Scrake, say that I won t leave this table, and 
 that I will breakfast with a fellow whose benevolence might 
 warm the witals of a tiger. 
 
 Very well, Sir, said Kornicker, relaxing from his former 
 severe expression; I ve done my duty. Old Rust can t 
 blame me. The breach of contract is not on my part. I m 
 acting under compulsion. Just recollect that I desired you 
 to leave me, in case it gets me into hot water, and that you 
 refused ; that s all. Now, old fellow, what 11 you take ? 
 Only recollect that you are breakfasting with me under pro 
 test, and that each man rides his own pony. 
 
 The stranger nodded, and said that of course he would 
 foot his own bill. 
 
 These preliminaries being settled, the boy, who had been 
 standing at their elbow, in a state of ecstatic delight at the 
 proceedings of Mr. Kornicker, with whom he had become 
 familiar, and whom he regarded as a gentleman of great 
 legal acumen, was desired by the stranger to hand him the 
 
220 HARRY HARSON. 
 
 bill of fare, and not to keep him waiting all day. Having 
 been gratified in this respect, Mr. Scrake commenced at the 
 top and deliberately whispered his way to the bottom of the 
 list. 
 
 Beef-steak : shall I say for two ? asked he, looking up at 
 Kornicker. 
 
 Yes, but always under protest, said Mr. Kornicker, wink 
 ing at him. Do n t forget that. 
 
 Of course. Now, my son, what trimmings have you got? 
 said he to the boy. 
 
 Taters. 
 
 Are they kidneys, blue-noses, or fox ? and will they bu st 
 open white and mealy ? 
 
 They m prime, replied the boy. 
 
 Bring one for me or, stop ; are they extra ? 
 
 We throw them in with the steak, gratis. 
 
 Then bring a dishful, with coffee, bread, and whatever else 
 adds to the breakfast, without adding to the bill. 
 
 The boy, having no other interest in the establishment than 
 that of securing his own wages and meals, was highly de 
 lighted at this considerate order of Mr. Scrake, and forthwith 
 disappeared to obey it. 
 
 In the meanwhile, Mr. Scrake, after having deliberately 
 re-perused the bill of fare, and not observing any thing else 
 which could be got for nothing, laid it down, and looking at 
 Mr. Kornicker, who was gazing abstractedly at the table 
 cloth, said that he hoped he (Mr. Scrake) was not going to be 
 impertinent; and as Mr. Kornicker made no other reply 
 than that of looking at him, as if he considered it a matter 
 of some doubt whether he was or was not, he elucidated the 
 meaning of his remark, by inquiring who Old Rust was. 
 
 The old gentleman that caters for me, replied Kornicker 
 carelessly. 
 
HARRY HARSON. 221 
 
 And does he make you eat alone ? 
 
 If I dine double, lie 11 stop the prog ; that s all. 
 
 A sing lar bargain quite sing lar ; very sing lar, in fact. 
 Does he keep a tight eye over you ? 
 
 Mr. Kornicker did not exactly know what kind of an eye 
 a tight eye was, but he replied : Sometimes he does, some 
 times he do n t. He s nigh enough to do it. His office is 
 overhead. 
 
 * Lawyer, I suppose ? must be, said Mr. Scrake, drum 
 ming carelessly on the table. 
 
 You re out, old fellow. I m with him, and should know 
 something of him ; and he isn t. 
 
 Ah ! said the stranger, leaning back and yawning, and 
 then sharpening his knife on the fork. What is he, then ? 
 
 Mr. Kornicker raised his finger gently to his nose, winked 
 so knowingly at Mr. Scrake that he caused that gentleman 
 to stop short in his performance to look at him ; after which 
 he shut both eyes, and gave vent to a violent inward con 
 vulsion of laughter. 
 
 What is he ? repeated Kornicker ; then sinking his 
 voice, and leaning over the table, he whispered in Mr. 
 Scrake sear, He shell. 
 
 No ! he is n t though, is he ? said Mr. Scrake, dropping 
 his knife and fork, and sinking back in his chair. 
 
 Yes, he is, repeated Mr. Kornicker ; and if you were a 
 certain gentleman that I know, you d find it out. He will 
 some day, I rather think. 
 
 Are you that individual ? inquired Mr. Scrake, with an 
 air of deep interest. 
 
 No, I a n t, but I suspect some one else is. But come, 
 said he, there s the breakfast ; so let s be at it, and drop all 
 other discussion. 
 
 This remark found an answering echo in the stomach of 
 
222 HARRY HARSON. 
 
 Mr. Scrake,. who resumed the sharpening of his knife as the 
 breakfast entered the room, and did not desist until the steak 
 was on the table, when he immediately assaulted it. 
 
 Shall I help you ? What part will you take ? 
 
 Any part, replied Kornicker, carelessly. 
 
 Well, it s singular ; I never could carve. I 11 help you 
 as I would help myself, said Mr. Scrake, in his ignorance 
 depositing on Mr. Kornicker s plate an exceedingly tough 
 piece of dry meat, and upon his own a cut which was re 
 markably tender and juicy. 
 
 Do you always help yourself as you have helped me ? 
 said Mr. Kornicker, snuffing with great deliberation, and eye 
 ing his portion with no very contented eye. 
 
 Always, always. 
 
 Then let me tell you, my good fellow, that you do your 
 self d d great injustice. 
 
 Ha ! ha ! good very good ; sheer ignorance on my 
 part, upon my soul. * But you were telling me about this 
 man, this Rust, said Mr. Scrake, mashing his potatoes, and 
 entombing a lump of butter in the heart of a small pyramid 
 of them. * You said he was hell, or the Devil, or something 
 of that sort. What then ? Eh ? 
 
 Kornicker, though not at all pleased with the ignorance 
 of his companion in the particular branch in which it had 
 just displayed itself, was not of a sulky disposition, and was 
 easily brought into a communicative mood, particularly as 
 Mr. Scrake begged him, with tears in his eyes, to tell him 
 which was the best part of a beef-steak, so that he might 
 avoid in future the mortification of being guilty of a similar 
 error. 
 
 As the coffee disappeared, and the beef-steak followed, 
 Mr. Scrake seemed to relax, and to forget that his hat hung 
 over his head, commemorative of the recent decease of Mrs. 
 
HARRY II ARSON. 223 
 
 Scrake, and became quite jocular on the subject of the fair 
 sex, congratulating Kornicker upon his looks ; calling him a 
 lucky dog, and telling him that if he were him, he d make 
 up to some charming young woman with a fortune, and be off 
 with her. He then went into a detail of his own juvenile 
 indiscretions, relating many incidents of his life ; some of 
 which were amusing, some ridiculous, some tragic, some 
 pathetic, and not a few quite indecent. It was wonderful 
 what a devil that fat-cheeked, little-eyed, round-stomached 
 fellow had been. Who could resist the influence of such a 
 man ? Not poor Kornicker ; it gradually had its effect upon 
 him, for he in turn grew communicative. He grew merry 
 over the rare doings which had taken place in Rust s den. 
 He then descanted upon the peculiarities of the old man ; 
 his fierce fits of passion, his cold, shrewd, caustic manners, 
 his long absences, and his sudden returns ; how profoundly 
 secret he kept himself and his mode of life. And, said he, 
 in conclusion, I know nothing of him. He s a queer dog, 
 a wonderful queer one. It would take a long time to fathom 
 him, I can tell you. I ve been with him for a long time; 
 and am his confidential adviser, his lawyer, and all that sort 
 of thing ; and yet I Ve never done but two things for him. 7 
 
 * You do n t say so ! exclaimed Mr. Scrake, laying down 
 his knife and fork, and looking at him with his mouth 
 open ; and pray what were those things ? 
 
 I sued one man, (being a lawyer, you know, ) said he, 
 nodding in an explanatory way at Mr. Scrake, and carried 
 a letter to another. 
 
 Ah ! who were those fortunate individuals ? 
 
 * Poh ! I suppose there s no secret about it. The man 
 sued was one Enoch Grosket. The other was one Henry 
 Harson ; a jolly old boy he ivas, too. I breakfasted with 
 him ; a prime fellow ; keeps a d d ugly cur, though. 
 
224 HARRY H ARSON. 
 
 * Enoch Grosket, Henry Harson ! said the stranger, mus- 
 ing ; I Ve heard of them, I think. Who are they ? 
 
 * It is more than I can tell, replied Kornicker. That s 
 the mystery of my situation. I know nothing about any 
 thing I m doing, or of Rust, or his acquaintances. 
 
 1 Why, you must know what you sued the man for, said 
 Mr. Scrake, earnestly; you must know that, surely. 
 
 Yes, but it s a height of knowledge which do n t carry 
 much information with it, replied Mr. Kornicker. * I sued 
 him on a promissory note. What he made it for, or how 
 Rust got it, or any thing more about him, or it, or Ilarson, 
 or Rust, I know as little as you. 
 
 The stranger drew himself up, and looking at him gravely, 
 said in a serious and even stern tone : Do you mean to say 
 that you are entirely ignorant of every thing respecting this 
 Rust ; his family, his business, his acquaintances, his associ 
 ates, his habits, his plans and operations ? in short, that 
 you know nothing more than you have mentioned to me ? 
 
 The other nodded. 
 
 Waiter, my bill, said he in a peremptory tone. 
 
 The boy brought him a slip of paper, on which was writ 
 ten the amount. 
 
 He paid it without a word ; walked across the room, took 
 down his hat, put it on his head, and turning to Kornicker, 
 said in a tone of solemn earnestness : Young man, you re 
 in a bad way, a very bad way. Had I known with what 
 people you were in the habit of associating before I sat 
 down at that table, Ezra Scrake s legs and yours would never 
 have been under the same mahogany. A man in the employ 
 of another, and know nothing of him ! It s enormous ! He 
 might be a murderer, a thief, a man-slaughterer, a Burker, 
 an arsoner, or any thing that is bad. Young man, in spite 
 
HARRY HARSON. 225 
 
 of the injury you Ve done me, I pity you ; nay, I forgive 
 you. 
 
 Mr. Kornicker was merely waiting for an opportunity to 
 suggest to him that his company had not only been unsought, 
 but actually forced upon him, and even under his solemn 
 protest. But before he could do so, Mr. Scrake was in the 
 street. On ascertaining that he was out of the hearing of 
 Mr. Kornicker, he muttered to himself: It was no go. 
 Waited for him two hours ; then spent an hour in pumping 
 a dry well. Enoch Grosket has sent me on a fool s errand. 
 Michael Rust knows too much to trust that addle-headed 
 fool. 
 
 Having given vent to these observations, he deliberately 
 buttonec 1 up his coat, and walked off. 
 
 10* 
 
226 HARRY H ARSON. 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 IN a dark room which was lighted only by a single candle, 
 which flared and dripped in the currents of air, as they eddied 
 and whirled through the room, sat Tim Craig and his com 
 rade, Bill Jones. They were sitting on two wooden benches 
 in front of a fire, which they from time to time nourished 
 with sticks from a heap of wood on the hearth. The fire 
 kept smouldering and smoking, now and then springing up 
 into a fitful blaze, which threw a spectral air over the room, 
 peopling its dim recesses with fantastic forms, and then ex 
 pired, leaving it more gloomy than ever. The appearance 
 of the men, their subdued voices and startled looks, showed 
 that at that particular time they were not altogether in a 
 frame of mind to resist the gloomy influence of the place. 
 The dark, lonely room, with its dim shadowy cornel s and 
 gaping seams, through which the wind sighed and wailed, 
 and the pattering of the rain as it swept heavily against the 
 side of the house and on the roof, all tended to add to the 
 melancholy and sombre tone of their feelings. Bill drew his 
 bench to the fire, looked suspiciously about him, and then, 
 as if half ashamed of having done so, said : 
 
 It s a h - 11 of a night ! I do n t know how it is, but 
 I m not in trim to-night. Blow me, if the sight of that 
 old fellow do n t make one s blood cold. I can t get 
 warm; and this fire keeps sputtering and smoking, as if 
 to spite one. 
 
 Tim Craig, to whom this remark was addressed, turned 
 and looked him steadily in the face, without speaking ; and 
 
77^1 RRY II A R SON. 227 
 
 then his eyes wandered about the room, as if he were fearful 
 of being watched or overheard in what he was going to say. 
 
 * Bill, said he in a low voice, his thin lips quivering ; but 
 whether from anger or any other emotion, was a matter of 
 
 much doubt ; d d if I know which way to leap ! Enoch 
 
 pulls one way and Rust another. Either of them could 
 send us to kingdom come. Ugh ! how cold it is ! Some 
 thing comes over me to-night I can t tell what. I do n t 
 half like this job. Bill, continued he after a pause, drawing 
 nearer his comrade and lowering his voice, * I m haunted 
 to-night. You know that fellow, the man up town, the 
 
 cartman He hesitated, and leaned his mouth close to 
 
 the ear of the other, while in the dim light his face seemed 
 ghastly ; the the man, last year 
 
 Jones looked at him significantly; and then drew his 
 finger across his throat. Do you mean that fellow ? 
 
 Yes, replied Craig in a husky tone, and scarcely able to 
 articulate, for the choking in his throat. * He s been here 
 to-night. Three times I ve caught him looking over my 
 shoulder ! God ! There he is again ! Light ! light ! light ! 
 shouted he, springing up; make the fire burn, I say 
 make it burn ! Heap on wood ! heap it on ! Do any thing 
 but keep HIM off ! 
 
 * Why, Tim, you seem to be took bad, exclaimed his com 
 panion, at the same time getting on his knees, and setting 
 assiduously to work to blow the fire. Come, this is worse 
 than ever. We Ve got to work to-night ; and it won t do 
 to go into your fantastics. 
 
 He paused in his remarks to apply his breath to the fire, 
 and with such success, that in a few minutes a bright blaze 
 was dancing up the chimney, lighting the whole room, and 
 dispelling at once that shadowy appearance which its great 
 size and dilapidated state had tended to give it. 
 
228 HARRY H ARSON. 
 
 * There, now ; that s as comfortable a fire as you can want ; 
 and arter all, what you was just talking of was all fancy, 
 said he, resuming his seat. Dead men stay where you put 
 em. 
 
 Craig had been pacing furiously up and down the room, 
 as if to outwalk some demon that would keep at his side ; 
 but he stopped short, and going up to his comrade, placed 
 his hand on his shoulder and said : Bill Jones, that s a lie ! 
 Whoever says so, lies ! Dead men do n t stay where you put 
 em. I Ve had that man walking with me for hours to 
 gether. I Ve had him at the same table with me, when I 
 ate ; I Ve had him in bed with me ay, all night long ; 
 and to-night he s been here, with his face almost touching 
 mine. Blast him ! if I could but get him by the throat, I d 
 throttle him ! 
 
 * Come, come, Tim, none of this, said Jones, with more 
 gentleness than might have been expected from one of his 
 rough exterior. I m sorry for you ; you must feel bad 
 enough, or you would n t go on so. I ve knowed you since 
 we were boys together ; and I know it s not a little matter 
 that works you up like you are now. Come, sit down. He 
 led him to a seat, and kneeling at his feet, took his hand in 
 both of his. Do n t give in so, my old feller. Don t you 
 know, when we were boys, how we all looked up to you ; 
 and although I could have doubled you up, with my big 
 limbs, yet you always had the mastery over me ? Ha ! ha ! 
 Tim, do n t you remember the old schoolmaster, too ? Hallo ! 
 what now ? 
 
 Craig leaned his head upon Jones s shoulder, and sobbed 
 aloud. Do n t talk of those days, Bill ; it 11 drive me mad. 
 Oh ! if I was a boy again ! But no, no ; I m a fool, ex 
 claimed he, springing up, apparently swallowing his emotion 
 at once fierce gulp, and in an instant becoming as hardened 
 
HARRY H ARSON. 229 
 
 as ever. Am I crazy to-night, or what ails me, that I Ve 
 become as white-livered as a girl ? Where s the grog ? Give 
 us a sup ; and we 11 see what s to be done. 
 
 There, now you talk right, said Jones, putting his hand 
 in his coat-pocket, and drawing out a small bottle, cased in 
 leather ; that 11 wake you up. And now to business. You 
 have n t told me what s to be done, and who you 11 go with, 
 Grosket, or Rust. 
 
 * Rust, said Craig, abruptly ; he s our man. He can bleed ; 
 Enoch can t. He never fails in what he wants to do ; Enoch 
 does : but they are both devils incarnate. I d rather fight 
 against ten other men than either of them ; but rather against 
 Enoch than Mike Rust. 
 
 Well, what is it ? He told you all about it. I could n t 
 hear what he said. 
 
 * He s been on the prowl for two days ; God knows what 
 he s after ; but he wants us to break into a house, and steal 
 a girl. 
 
 * The profligate willain ! exclaimed Mr. Jones, with an air 
 of great horror. * I 11 tell his father of him ! 
 
 1 It s only a child. 
 
 * Oh ! that alters the case, said Mr. Jones. Then I 11 tell 
 his wife. 
 
 * It s nothing of that sort, said Tim, peevishly. * I can t 
 joke to-night. I told him how Enoch had helped some one 
 steal some children, and how one of them had got away, 
 and where she was. We are to go k> the house, get the girl 
 at all hazards, rob the house if we choose, and bring her here. 
 What he wants of her, who she is, is more than I know. 
 4 You aTe to get her, and ask no questions : that s what he 
 said. 
 
 4 Who s in the house ? 
 
 * Only an old man and a woman. 
 
230 HARRY II ARSON. 
 
 1 The man is lie used up, or what ? 
 
 He s a bull-dog, was the laconic reply. 
 
 We 11 want them, then, said Jones, pointing to a closet 
 which was partly open, showing several pairs of pistols on a 
 shelf. 
 
 I suppose so. Bring em out, and look at the locks ; not 
 the flint-locks it s a wet night ; get the others. We must 
 have no trifling. 
 
 Jones made no other reply than to take out a pair of pis 
 tols, which he carried to the light, and examined their locks. 
 Are they loaded ? inquired Craig. 
 
 Jones nodded : Two bullets in each ! Suppose they twig 
 us ? are we to fight or run 1 
 
 You had better die than fail. He said that, replied 
 Craig in a low tone ; * and when I saw his look, I thought so 
 too. D n him ! I m afraid of him. It 11 be no baby- 
 work if they discover us. 
 
 The other robber made no reply, but continued to exa 
 mine the pistols, carefully rubbing the barrels, to remove any 
 trace of rust, and working the hammers backward and for 
 ward ; after which he put two fresh caps on the cones. 
 
 All right ! I m ready as soon as it s time. When do you 
 go? 
 
 Not till an hour after midnight. That s the time when 
 folks sleep soundest. You could cut a man s throat then 
 without waking him. Do n t let the fire go down, said he, 
 turning an apprehensive eye toward the fire-place. It s 
 cold, and we Ve three hours to be here yet. 
 
 Jones, with the same good-natured alacrity which he had 
 before displayed, threw several sticks on the fire, and then 
 turning to his comrade, said : 
 
 Suppose we rattle the dice till midnight ? 
 
 Craig shook his head. 
 
II A R R Y HA It SO N. 231 
 
 What say you to the paste-board ? 
 
 No cards for me, replied the other, seating himself and 
 leaning his cheeks between his hands, with his elbows on his 
 knees, and his eyes fastened on the fire. I want to be on 
 the move. God ! How I wish it was time ! This cursed 
 room is enough to suffocate one. Curse me, but it smells of 
 coffins and dead men, and is as cold as a church-vault. It 
 goes to a fellow s very bones. 
 
 There was something so unusual in the mood of his com 
 rade, that Jones at last started up and said : 
 
 Blast me, Tim, but you must stop this. You re making 
 me as wild and frightened as yourself. Talk of your beaks, 
 and courts, and prisons, and bullets and pistols as much as 
 you like ; but, d n it, leave your dead men, and coffins, 
 and vaults, and all them ere to themselves, will you ? Curse 
 me if you a n t enough to make a sneak of any man. So 
 just stop, will you ? If you can t talk of something better, 
 do n t talk at all. 
 
 Craig took him at his word ; and drawing his bench closer 
 to the fire, maintained his position, without moving or speak 
 ing, for more than an hour. 
 
 Jones, in the meanwhile, for want of employment, again 
 examined the pistols ; drew out the loads, and reloaded them ; 
 then going to the closet, he brought out two very dangerous- 
 looking knives, and after trying the points on his finger, 
 proceeded to oil them. This over, he betook himself te 
 whistling, at the same time keeping time to his music by 
 drumming his heel heavily on the floor. This, however, 
 could not last for ever ; and finally, wrapping a heavy coat 
 around his shoulders, he stretched himself at full length in 
 front of the fire, and was soon sound asleep. 
 
 Not so his companion. In silence, without stirring, and 
 scarcely breathing, yet wide awake, with ears alive to every 
 
232 HARRY HARSON. 
 
 sound, and distorting every sigh of the wind into the voice 
 of a human being, he sat with white lips and a shaking hand 
 until the faint chime of a clock, which reached him even 
 above the noise of the storm, told him that the hour was 
 come. 
 
 * Wake up ! said he, touching Jones with his foot. It s 
 time to be off. 
 
 Jones, with instinctive quickness, obeyed the call by spring 
 ing to his feet, apparently as wide awake as if he had not 
 closed his eyes during the night. 
 
 All right ! said he, looking hastily about the room. Hey ! 
 but what s all this noise ? 
 
 It s a horrible night ; all hell seems abroad, said Craig. 
 * But come ; get ready, and let s be off. 
 
 Will we want any of them ? asked Jones, pointing to an 
 upper shelf in the closet, on which were lying several un 
 couth-looking instruments, the nature of which was best 
 known to themselves. 
 
 Take the small crow ; we may want that, but nothing 
 more. 
 
 * The bag too ? inquired Bill. 
 
 No ; it s a girl we ve to steal ; d n it, I wish it 
 was n t ! 
 
 While he was speaking, he had thrust his arms into a 
 shaggy great-coat, and was tying a thick woollen wrapper 
 over his mouth, so that the last remark was nearly lost in it. 
 He then put on an oil-skin cap, not unlike what is called by 
 sailors a sou -wester, and stood watching the proceedings of 
 his comrade, which were by no means as expeditious as his 
 own ; for that gentleman proceeded very leisurely to encase 
 his feet in a pair of thick woollen stockings, and a pair of 
 shoes more capable of resisting the wet than those which he 
 then wore. After this he put on an oil-cloth jacket over his 
 
HARRY EARS ON. 233 
 
 other one, and, surmounted the whole by a coat similai to that 
 worn by Craig. 
 
 One would suppose you was a baby, from your tender 
 ness to yourself, said Craig, impatiently. You a n t iugar, 
 are you ? Do you expect the rain to melt you ? 
 
 I in a sweet fellow, I know, replied the other, care 
 fully buttoning his coat to the chin. I may be sugar, for 
 all I know : should n t be surprised if I was. I Ve been told 
 so afore this ; let me tell you that, my old feller. You a 7 n t 
 in kidney to-night. Take another pull at little Job, said he, 
 handing him the bottle, and we 11 be off. 
 
 Whatever Craig s contempt of the rain might be, it did 
 not seem to extend to other liquids ; for he took the bottle, 
 and applying it to his lips, did not remove it until the bot 
 tom of it was not a little inclined toward the ceiling ; per 
 haps its elevation might even have increased, had not Jones 
 reminded him that, it being late at night, the vessel could not 
 be replenished, and that there was a small child to be 
 helped after him, who hated above all things sucking at the 
 neck of a dry bottle. 
 
 Craig permitted the bottle to be taken from his hand, and 
 stood with his eyes fixed on the floor in deep thought ; nor 
 did he arouse himself until Jones took him by the arm, 
 and said : 
 
 Come on ; all s ready. 
 
 Craig started at the words. * The pistols and the glim ? 
 
 * I ve got em. 
 
 And the crow-bar ? 
 
 All snug here] said Jones, touching the pocket of his 
 great-coat. 
 
 Good ! Follow me. Craig strode across the room, and 
 went out. 
 
 Tt was a dreadful night. The rain spouted furiously from 
 10* 
 
234 HARRY H ARSON. 
 
 the water-conductors, and sped boiling and foaming through 
 the streets. The wind too caught it up as it fell, and swept 
 it in long sheets through the streets ; and as the two men 
 battled their way along, it seemed actually to hiss around 
 them, like the long lash of a whip. The tempest had a rare 
 frolic that night, and right merrily did it howl over the house 
 tops, and through the narrow streets; and fast and furiously 
 did the water bubble and boil, as it dashed on like mad to 
 the deep river, to take refuge in her bosom from its torment 
 or, the hurricane. 
 
 A right glorious night it was for rapine and midnight 
 murder. The house-dog had slunk into his straw, and the 
 watchman was dozing away under some shed, or in some 
 dark door-way. There was nothing to stand in the way of 
 these enterprising men, save the fierce storm, and what cared 
 they for that ? It was the very night for them. If it came 
 to blows, or if a life were to be taken, the death-cry would 
 be lost in the howling of the wind ; it was the night of all 
 nights for them; and so thought Craig and his comrade, as 
 they toiled along, with their heads bent down to keep the 
 rain out of their faces. 
 
 Is it far ? at last inquired Jones : we Ve come a mile. 
 
 * Half a mile more, replied Craig ; and that was all that 
 passed between them until they stood in front of Harson s 
 house. 
 
 This is it, said Craig. 
 
 He lifted the latch of the gate opening into the door-yard, 
 and approached the house. 
 
 * Where are we to begin ? inquired Jones. 
 
 Craig pointed to a small window on a level with, or ra 
 ther sunk somewhat below, the surface of the ground, with 
 a kind of area around it. There ; there are iron gratings, 
 
HARRY H ARSON. 235 
 
 but they are set in the wood, which is all rotten. Quick ! 
 try them with the crow-bar ; they 11 give way. 
 
 Jones, with an alacrity and adroitness which showed a 
 long experience in such matters, after feeling his way to the 
 place, and passing his hand over the bars to discover their 
 exact situation, inserted his crow-bar between the stone-work 
 and the wood, and at the very first application forced the 
 whole out. A wooden shutter which opened from within, 
 being merely secured by a wooden button, gave way before 
 a strong pressure of his hand, and left the entrance open. 
 
 4 Go in quick ! do n t keep a fellow in the rain all night, 
 said Craig, in a sharp whisper. * It s only three feet to the 
 floor. Get in, will you ? 
 
 Shut up ! Cuss ye ! exclaimed Jones, savagely ; let me 
 take my own way. 
 
 As he spoke, he inserted his feet, and gradually let him 
 self down until he touched the floor. In a moment Craig 
 was at his side, and closed the shutter. 
 
 * Now, quick ! a light ! whispered he. In another minute 
 the dark lantern was lighted, and Craig, taking it up and 
 throwing back the slide, turned it carefully around the place. 
 It was a cellar, filled with empty barrels and boxes ; and 
 seemed to be a sort of receptacle for rubbish of all descrip 
 tions. At one end was a door leading to the upper part of 
 the house. It was partly open. Without a word, Craig 
 went to it and ascended the stairs, which were shut off from 
 the kitchen by another door. 
 
 Craig opened this, and crossed the room with a quick yet 
 stealthy step, but with the air of one perfectly familiar with 
 the precincts. Passing through the entry, he went into 
 Harson s sitting-room; thence into the outer room, com 
 municating with the street. 
 
 We 11 open the street-door, Bill, said he, in case we 
 
236 HARRY HARSON. 
 
 have to bolt quick. There, said he, as he .drew back two 
 bolts, and turned the key, * do n t forget the road. Leave all 
 the doors open. That 11 do. We 11 get the girl first, and 
 then we 11 see what s to be done. First door at the head of 
 the stairs. Quiet, quiet ; there s a dog in the next room. 
 
 Stealing up the stairs, they opened the door, and the full 
 light of the lamp fell in the child s room. They could hear 
 her low, regular breathing as she slept. Craig handed the 
 light to his companion. 
 
 * I 11 take her, whispered he. Bring the light so that I 
 can see. There, that will do. He bent over her. As he 
 did so, he accidentally stirred the bed-clothes, and the child 
 opened her eyes ; and before he could prevent it, a single 
 wild cry escaped her, as she caught sight of the savage 
 faces which were bending over her. 
 
 * Christ ! how she yelps ! exclaimed Craig, in a fierce 
 whisper. He clapped his hand over her mouth. ByG-d! 
 there goes the dog too ! we must be off. My chicken, said 
 he, in a low tone, * if you understand plain English, you 
 know what I mean when I say, if you whisper loud enough 
 to wake a cat, you ll get a bullet through your head. Hist ! 
 
 Bill, was that a door creaking 1 I can t hear for the d d 
 
 dog ! Both stopped and listened. 
 
 It was only the door below, said Jones. * Quick ! quick ! 
 
 Craig caught the child out of bed, wrapped a blanket 
 about her to stifle her cries, in case she should make any, 
 and moved to the door. 
 
 Turn the light on the door; I can t see. There, that 
 will do. Now, then, it s open, and the game s ours. 
 
 Not quite ! said a stern voice ; and the next instant 
 Craig received a blow from a fist which sent him reeling 
 back into the room. 
 
 4 Watch ! watch ! murder ! thieves ! bellowed Harson 
 
HARRY HARSON. 237 
 
 from without, while, from the din, at least forty pag-dogs 
 seemed to be barking in all parts of the entry. 
 
 * Shoot him ! shoot him down ! shouted Craig, springing 
 to the door. By G - d ! the door s shut, and he s holding 
 it from the outside ! exclaimed he, pulling it with all his 
 force. He s as strong as a bull. Quick ! shoot through 
 the panel ! He must stand behind the knob. Fire ! 
 
 Instead of obeying him, Bill Jones seized the child. 
 * Hark ye, old fellow, said he ; shut up, or I 11 dash this 
 girl s brains out. If I do n t, d n me ! 
 
 This appeal was heard, and operated upon Harson ; but 
 in a different manner from what they expected, for he re 
 laxed his hold of the door so suddenly, that Craig fell back 
 ward ; and bursting into the room, with a single blow he 
 prostrated the burglar, who was bending over the child, and 
 dashed the light to the ground. His advantage was only 
 momentary ; for in a minute Craig flung himself upon him. 
 But the old man s blood was up. In his young days he had 
 been a powerful wrestler ; and even now the robber found 
 him no easy conquest, for he said, in a husky tone : This 
 won t do, Bill. Drop the girl and come here. This blasted 
 old fool will keep us all night. 
 
 Instead of obeying him, Jones stole to the head of the 
 stairs and listened. In an instant he sprang back. 
 
 We must be off, Tim ! Some one is coming. Quick ! 
 Let loose the man. 
 
 But there were two to that bargain ; for Harson had 
 heard the words as well as the robber, and he held him with 
 a gripe like a vice. 
 
 Let go your hold, and we 11 be off, said Craig, in a husky 
 voice. 
 
 * Never ! You shall taste what you are so ready to give I 
 said Harson, fiercely. 
 
238 HARRY HARSON. 
 
 Bill, there s no time to lose ! exclaimed Craig, in a 
 stern tone. " Shoot him, and have done with it ! There, 
 now ; I 11 hold him. 
 
 The report of a pistol followed ; but as it did so, a deep 
 groan came from Craig. You ve done for me, Bill. The 
 old fellow dodged. Run ! run ! my rope s out. 
 
 Can t I help you, Tim ? exclaimed Jones. 
 
 * No, no ; go ! Get off. I 11 not blow on you. 
 
 Thus adjured, the robber paused no longer. But escape 
 was now no easy matter ; for at the door he was saluted by 
 a loud voice : 
 
 " Hallo ! Harry ; is this you f 
 
 No, no, a thief ! Grab him, Frank ! 
 
 The next instant Jones was in the grip of a powerful man, 
 but he was a giant himself, and desperate. He flung him 
 self with all his force upon his adversary, and both went to 
 the floor together ; Jones s hand on the other s throat. 
 
 There is something fearful in the grapple of a desperate 
 man, even when feeble in frame ; and in the case of Jones, 
 who knew that every thing depended on his efforts, and 
 whose fierce spirit was backed by muscles of iron, the con 
 flict was one of such fury that the very walls of the old 
 house shook. From step to step, from the landing to the 
 hall, they fought ; tugging and tearing at each other like 
 two dogs, while Harry Harson in vain hung about them ; 
 the darkness and the rapidity of their motions preventing 
 him from distinguishing friend from foe. 
 
 By G - d ! he s an ox for strength, at last said Frank ; 
 * if you d do any thing, Harry, go to the door and sing out 
 for the watch. I 11 hold him. 
 
 It might be that in order to utter these words the Doctor 
 relaxed his grasp, or it might be that the knowledge of the 
 increased risk that he would run gave additional strength to 
 
HARRY HARSON. 239 
 
 the robber; foi* lie made a single desperate effort, tore him 
 self from the iron grasp that held him down, rose to his 
 knee, and striking the Doctor a blow in the face that for a 
 moment bewildered him, sprang to his feet, dashed Harson 
 from the door, bounded across the room between the hall 
 and the street-door, and darted into the street at full speed. 
 
 D n me, Harry, he s off! said the Doctor, assum 
 ing a sitting posture on the floor. He deserves to escape, 
 for he fought like a devil for it. D n him, he s a 
 brave fellow ! There s no use in chasing him, I suppose ; 
 you and I a n t cut out for running. If that last crack 
 had hit me on the nose, it would have smashed it. Come, 
 let s look after the other fellow ; perhaps he s playing pos 
 sum, and may be off. If you do n t stop the barking of that 
 
 d d dog of yours, I 11 kill him. Groping their way 
 
 back to the upper floor, from which they caught sight of 
 Spite, rapidly retreating as they advanced, they found the 
 housekeeper standing in the room which they had just left, 
 arrayed in a particularly large white night-gown, and wear 
 ing a particularly high cap, with a particularly fierce white 
 ribbon on the top of it, and bearing in her hand a dim rush 
 light. 
 
 * Quick ! Martha ; more lights, and some brandy ! said 
 Harson, pushing past her. Thank God! you" 1 re not hurt, 
 Annie ! Come, Doctor, this poor devil is human, said he, 
 pointing to Craig, who lay on the floor apparently dead. 
 Look to him ; he breathes. I hear him. 
 
 It needed no second appeal ; for before he had finished, 
 the Doctor had turned the robber over, opened his vest, and 
 displayed a wound in his breast. He thrust his finger in it, 
 and then looking up at Harry, shook his head. 
 
 4 He s a case ; must go ! 
 
240 HARRY H ARSON. 
 
 * Poor fellow ! God only knows what may have driven 
 him to this. Help me to put him on the bed. 
 
 Taking him in their arms, they placed him on the bed ; 
 and there they sat and watched him until the dawn of day. 
 The bright sunshine came cheerily in at the window ; the 
 storm had passed, and the sky looked clear and blue, as if it 
 had never been ruffled. And at that hour, and in that 
 room, with the golden sunbeams streaming in, lay Tim 
 Craig, his head pressed heavily back upon the pillow, and 
 bound round with a cloth dabbled in blood. His face was 
 blackened and bruised, and his shirt and the bed-clothes 
 stained with blood. His breath was short and heavy, and 
 at times gasping ; his mouth half open, and his dull eye 
 fixed with a heavy leaden stare at the ceiling. His race was 
 nearly run. He seemed utterly unconscious of the presence 
 of any one, until the door opened, and Harson, who had 
 gone out, came in. 
 
 He went to the bed, and leaned over the burglar. As 
 he did so, his shadow, falling across the man s face, attracted 
 his attention, and he turned his heavy- eye, and asked, in a 
 husky voice : 
 
 Will I go ? What does he say ? 
 
 Harson shook his head. It s almost over with you, my 
 poor fellow ; God help you ! 
 
 The man turned his head away and looked at the wall. 
 
 Do you understand me ? said Harson, anxiously bending 
 over him. 
 
 Yes, yes, replied the man in the same mumbling tone ; 
 * yes, I m come for ; my time s up. I was a strong man 
 
 yesterday ; and now ! now ! It s very strange ! very 
 
 strange ! He muttered a few inarticulate words, and then 
 resumed his old position, looking at the wall, no sound es- 
 
HARRY EARS ON. 241 
 
 caping him except the low panting of his breath. Suddenly 
 he said, in a louder tone : 
 
 It s all very strange here? He pointed to his head. 
 1 Were you ever at sea ? Yes ? Well, well did you ever 
 see a ship toss and swing to and fro to and fro to and 
 fro, and yet keep straight on? Well, my brain reels and 
 swims in that way. There are dim, strange things ; men, 
 "beasts, birds, and ghosts hovering about me; but I see 
 straight on, and they are on all sides of the path ; yet I see 
 it straight, straight, straight and plain. I m going on it. 
 They can t make me swerve ; but it s awful to have such 
 company about me on such a journey. Come close to me ! 
 
 Harson drew his chair close to the bed and sat down. 
 * I Ve sent for a clergyman, said he, in a low tone ; * he 11 
 be here presently. You must endeavor to chase away these 
 thoughts ; they are only dreams. 
 
 Craig s thin lips contracted into a smile which was horri 
 ble, as, without moving his eyes from their fixed position, he 
 whispered : No, no ; he won t do it he 11 not do it. No ; 
 I won t blow on you, Bill. Ha ! how hot that bullet was ! 
 Lift me up ! He s there ! Yes, lift me up, so that I may 
 be above him ; up ! up ! Ha ! ha ! that 11 do. Bill, do you 
 recollect the old schoolmaster ? There ! Up ! up ! 
 
 Harson put his arm under him, and raised him. As he 
 did so, Craig s head fell against his shoulder, dabbling it with 
 blood. The next instant he stretched himself out at full 
 length ; gave a shudder ; a long rattling breath followed ; and 
 he fell back on the pillow dead. 
 
242 HARRY EAR SON. 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 IN the same room from which Craig and Jones had set 
 out on their ill-fated errand, and at the hour of noon on the 
 following day, the latter was crouching in front of the fire 
 place, which had been so bright and cheery the night before, 
 but which now contained nothing except ashes and a few 
 half-burned stumps, charred and blackened, but entirely 
 extinguished. Over these Jones bent, sometimes shivering, 
 holding his hands to them, apparently unconscious that they 
 emitted no heat, and at others dabbling in the ashes, and 
 muttering to himself. But a few hours had elapsed since 
 he had left that room a daring, desperate man ; yet in that 
 short time a frightful change had come over him. Ilis eyes 
 were bloodshot; his lips swollen and bloody, and the under 
 one deeply gashed, as if he had bitten it through ; his 
 cheeks haggard and hollow, his hair dishevelled, his dress 
 torn, and almost dragged from his person. But it was -not 
 in the outward man alone that this alteration had taken place. 
 In spirit, as well as in frame, he was crushed. His former iron 
 bearing was gone ; there was no energy, no strength left. 
 He seemed but a wreck, shattered and beaten down down 
 to the very dust. At times he mumbled to himself, and 
 moaned like one in suffering. Then he rose and paced the 
 room with long strides, dashing his hand against his fore 
 head, and uttering execrations. The next moment he stag 
 gered to his seat, buried his face in his hands, and sobbed 
 like a child. 
 
 * Tim, said he, in a low broken voice, poor old Tim ; I 
 killed you, I know I did ; but blast ye ! I loved you, Tim. 
 
HARRY H ARSON. 243 
 
 But it s of no use, now ; you re dead, and can never know 
 how much poor Bill Jones cared for you. No, no ; you 
 never can, Tim. We were boys together, and have always 
 roughed it through life together until last night ; and now 
 I m alone ; . no one left no one, no one ! 
 
 In the very frenzy of grief that succeeded these words, 
 he flung himself upon the floor, dashing his head and hands 
 against it, and rolling and writhing like one in mortal pain. 
 This outbreak of passion was followed by a kind of stupor ; 
 and crawling to his seat, he remained there, like one stunned 
 and bereft of strength. Stolid, scarcely breathing, and, but 
 for the twitching of his fingers, motionless as stone ; with 
 his eyes fixed on the blank wall, he sat as silent as one 
 dead ; but with a heart on fire, burning with a remorse 
 never to be quenched ; with a soul hurrying and darting to 
 and fro in its mortal tenement, to escape the lashings of 
 conscience. Struggle on ! struggle on ! There is no escape, 
 until that strong heart is eaten away by a disease for which 
 there is no cure ; until that iron frame, worn down by 
 suffering, has become food for the worm, and that spirit and 
 its persecutor stand before their final Judge, in the relations 
 of criminal and accuser. 
 
 A heavy step announced that some one was ascending the 
 stairs. Jones moved not. A loud knock at the door 
 followed. Still he did not stir. The door was then flung 
 open in no very gentle manner, for it struck the wall behind 
 it with a noise that made the room echo; but a cannon 
 might have been fired there, and Jones would not have 
 heard it. 
 
 The person,however, who had thus unceremoniously opened 
 the way for his entrance, seemed perfectly indifferent whether 
 his proceedings were agreeable or otherwise. His first move 
 ment on entering the room was to shut the door after him 
 
244 HARRY H ARSON, 
 
 and lock it ; his next was to look about it to see whether it 
 contained any other person than Jones. Having satisfied 
 himself on that score, he walked rapidly up to him and 
 tapped him on the shoulder. 
 
 Jones looked listlessly up at him, and then turning away, 
 dabbled in the ashes, without uttering a word. 
 
 Hallo ! Bill Jones, said the stranger, after looking at him 
 a moment or two in evident surprise, what ails you ? 
 
 The man made no reply. 
 
 So you are sulky ! said the other. Well, follow your 
 own humor ; but answer me one question : where s Craig ? 
 
 Jones shuddered ; and his hand shook violently. Rising 
 up, half tottering, he turned and stood face to face with his 
 visitor. 
 
 * Good-day to ye, Mr. Grosket, said he, with a ghastly 
 smile, and extending his hand to him. Good-day to ye. 
 It s a bright day, on the heels of such a night as the 
 last was. 
 
 * Good God ! what ails you, man ? exclaimed Grosket, 
 recoiling before the wild figure which confronted him ; and 
 then taking his hand, he said : * Your hand is hot as fire, 
 your eyes bloodshot, and your face covered with blood. 
 What have you been at ? What ails you 1 
 
 Jones passed his hand feebly across his forehead, and then 
 replied : * I m sick at heart ! 
 
 He turned from Grosket, and again crouched upon the 
 hearth, mumbling over his last words, * Sick at heart ! sick 
 at heart ! nor did he appear to recollect Grosket s 
 question respecting Craig. If he did, he did not answer it, 
 but, with his arms locked over his knees, he rocked to and 
 fro, like one in great pain. 
 
 Are you ill, man, or are you drunk ? demanded Grosket, 
 pressing heavily on his shoulder. * Speak out, I say : what 
 
HARRY EARS ON. 245 
 
 ails you? If you don t find your tongue, I ll find it for 
 you. 
 
 Jones, thus addressed, made an effort to rally, and par 
 tially succeeded ; for after a moment he suddenly rose up 
 erect, and in a clear, bold voice, replied : 
 
 I m not drunk, Mr. Grosket, but I am ill; God knows 
 what s the matter with me. Look at me ! he continued, 
 stepping to where the light was strongest ; Look at me 
 well. Would n t you think I d been on my back for 
 months ? 
 
 * You look ill enough, was the blunt reply. 
 
 * Well, then, what do you want ? demanded Jones, in a 
 peevish tone ; why do you trouble me ? I can t bear it. 
 Go away ; go away. 
 
 I will, when you ve answered my question. Where s 
 Craig ? 
 
 I don t know. He was here last night; but he went 
 out, and has n t been here since. 
 
 Where did he go? 
 
 Jones shook his head : He did n t say. 
 
 Was he alone? 
 
 No, replied the other, evidently wincing under these 
 questions ; No ; there was a man with him. That s all I 
 know about either of them. There, there ; get through with 
 your questions. They turn my head, said he, in an irritable 
 tone. 
 
 Why did he take a stranger ? demanded Grosket, with 
 out paying the least attention to his manner. You forget 
 that I know you and he generally hunt in couples. 
 
 It might have been the cold of the room striking through 
 ( to his very bones that had so powerful an effect on Jones* 
 but he shook from head to foot, as he answered : 
 
 Look at me ! God ! would you have a man out in such 
 
246 HARRY H ARSON. 
 
 a night as that was, when he s almost ready for his winding- 
 sheet! 1 
 
 Grosket s only reply was to ask another question. 
 
 * What was the name of the man who went with him ? 
 
 * I do n t know. 
 
 What kind of a man was he ? asked Grosket. 
 A man of about my size, replied Jones sullenly. 
 
 * What did they go to do ? 
 
 Jones hesitated, as if in doubt what answer to make, and 
 then, as if adopting an open course, he said : * I ve know d 
 you a good while, Mr. Grosket, and you won t blab, if I tell 
 you what I suspect, will ye ? It s only guess-work, after all. 
 Promise me that ; I know your word is good. 
 
 Grosket paused a moment before he made the promise ; 
 and then said : Well, I 11 keep what you tell me to myself. 
 Now then. 
 
 1 It was a house-breaking business, said Jones, sinking his 
 voice. * They took pistols with them ; and I heard Tim tell 
 the other one to take the crow-bar and the glirn. That s all 
 I know. I was too much down to listen. There ; go away 
 now. I ve talked till my head is almost split. Talking 
 drives me mad. Go away. 
 
 Grosket stood perfectly still, in deep thought. The story 
 might be true ; for the city was ringing with the news of 
 the burglary, and of the death of one of the burglars by 
 the hands of his comrade. It was rumored, too, that the 
 dead man had been identified by some of the officers of 
 the police, and that his name was Craig. It was this, taken 
 in connection with the facts that the attempt had been 
 made on Harson s house, that an effort had been made to 
 carry off the child who lived with him, and of its being known 
 to Grosket that Rust had often employed these two men in 
 matters requiring great energy and few scruples, that had 
 
HARRY HA R SON. 247 
 
 induced him thus early to visit their haunt, to ascertain tho 
 truth of nis suspicions, and to endeavor, if possible, to ferret 
 out the plans of their employer. The replies of Jones, short 
 and abrupt as they were, convinced him that his suspicions 
 respecting Craig were correct; but who could the other 
 man be ? 
 
 Engrossed with his own thoughts, he commenced walking 
 up and down the room. At last he stopped at its farthest 
 end. 
 
 Jones, in the meantime, seated himself; and leaning his 
 elbows on his knees, hid his face in his hand. He was dis 
 turbed, however, by feeling himself shaken roughly by the 
 shoulder. What you ve just been telling me is a lie ! said 
 Grosket sternly. * You should know me well enough not to 
 run the risk of trifling with me. I want the truth, and no 
 thing else. Where were you last night ? 
 
 Jones looked up at him, and then answered in a sullen 
 tone : I ve told you once ; I was here. 
 
 Grosket went to a dark corner of the room and brought 
 back a great-coat, completely saturated with water. This 
 room scarcely leaks enough to do that, said he, throwing it 
 on the floor in front of Jones. Ha! what s that in the 
 pocket ? 
 
 He thrust in his hand and drew out a pistol. The ham 
 mer was down, the cap exploded, and the inside of the muz 
 zle blackened by burnt powder. 
 
 Fired off! said he. You told the truth. The man 
 who went with Craig did look like you. I know the rest. 
 Tim Craig is dead, and you shot him. 
 
 An expression of strange meaning crossed the face of the 
 burglar as he returned the steady look of his visitor without 
 making any reply. But Grosket had not yet finished with 
 him ; for he said in a low, savage tone : Now mark me well. 
 
248 HARRY HARSON. 
 
 If you lie in what you tell me, I 11 hang you. Who em 
 ployed you to do this job ? 
 
 Jones eyed him for a moment, and then turned away im 
 patiently and said : I do n t know what you re talking about. 
 Do n t worry me. I m sick and half crazy. Get away, will 
 ye! 
 
 This to me ! to me ! exclaimed the other, stepping back, 
 his eyes flashing fire ; you forget yourself. 
 
 Jones rose up, his red hair hanging like ropes about his 
 face, and his bloodshot eyes and disfigured features giving 
 him the look rather of a wild beast than of a man. Shak 
 ing his finger at Grosket, he said : * Keep away from me 
 to-day, I say. There s an evil spell over me. Come to-mor 
 row, but do n t push me to-day, or God knows what you 
 may drive me to do. There, there go. 
 
 Still Grosket stirred not, but with a curling lip and an eye 
 as bright as his own, and voice so fearfully quiet and yet 
 stern that at another time it might have quelled even the 
 strong spirit of the robber, he said : Enoch Grosket never 
 goes until his object is attained. 
 
 * Then you won t go ? demanded Jones. 
 
 No! 
 
 Jones made a hasty step toward him ; but whatever may 
 have been his purpose and from the expression of his face, 
 there was little doubt but that it was a hostile one he was 
 diverted from it by hearing a hand on the latch of the door, 
 and a voice from without demanding admittance. 
 
 4 It is Rust, exclaimed Grosket, in a sharp whisper. He 
 touched the burglar on the shoulder, and said in the same 
 tone, I m going in there. 1 He pointed to a closet in a dark 
 part of the room, nearly concealed by the wainscoting. Let 
 him in, and betray me if you dare ! 
 
 You seem to know our holes well, muttered Jones. 
 
HARRY HARSON. 249 
 
 You ve been here afore. Grosket made no reply, but 
 hurried across the room and secreted himself in the closet, 
 which evidently had been constructed as a place of conceal 
 ment, either for the tenants of the room themselves, or for 
 whatever else it might not suit their fancy to have too closely 
 examined. 
 
 Jones stared after him, apparently forgetting the appli 
 cant for admission, until a renewed and very violent knock 
 ing recalled his attention to it. He then went to the door, 
 drew back the bolt, and walked to his seat, without even 
 glancing to see who came in, or who the person was who 
 followed so closely at his heels. Nor did he look around 
 until he felt his arm roughly grasped, and a sharp, stern 
 voice hissing in his ear : 
 
 So, so ! a fine night s work you ve made of it. Tim 
 Craig is dead, and the whole city is already ringing with the 
 news ; and yow, you re a murderer ! 
 
 Jones started from his seat with the sudden spasmodic 
 bound of one who has received a mortal thrust. Ho stared 
 wildly at the sharp thin face which had almost touched his, 
 and then sat down and said : 
 
 Do n t talk to me so, Mr. Rust ; I can t bear it. 
 
 Ho, ho ! your conscience is tender, is it ? It has a raw 
 spot that won t bear handling, has it ? We 11 see to that. 
 But to business, said he, his face white with rage ; his black 
 eyes blazing, and his voice losing its smoothness, and quiv 
 ering as he spoke. 
 
 I Ve come here to fulfil my agreement ; you were to get 
 that child for me to-day. I Ve come for her ; where is she ? 
 
 Jones looked at him with an expression of impatience 
 mingled with contempt, but made him no answer. 
 
 4 Tim Craig was to have gone to that house ; he was to 
 have carried her off; he was to have had her here, here, 
 11 
 
250 HARRY HARSON. 
 
 HERE ! said he, in the same fierce tone. * Why has n t he 
 done it? 
 
 4 Because he s dead, said J ones savagely. 
 
 * I m glad of it ! I m glad of it ! exclaimed Rust. He 
 deserved it. The coward ! Let him die. 
 
 Tim Craig was no coward, replied Jones, in a tone 
 which, had Rust been less excited, would have warned him 
 to desist. 
 
 Ha ! exclaimed Rust, scanning him from head to foot, 
 as if surprised at his daring to contradict him, would you 
 gainsay me i 
 
 Jones returned his look without flinching, his teeth firmly 
 set and grating together. At last he said : 
 
 I do gainsay you ; and I do say, whoever calls Tim Craig 
 a coward, lies ! 
 
 This, and from you!" 1 exclaimed Rust, shaking his thin 
 finger in his very face ; * this from you ; you, a housebreaker, 
 a thief, and last night the murderer of your comrade. Ho ! 
 ho ! it makes me laugh ! Fool ! How many lives have 
 you? One word of mine could hang you. 
 
 1 You II never hang me 1 replied Jones, in the same low, 
 savage tone. * I wish you had, before that cursed job of 
 yours made me put a bullet in poor Tim. I wish you had ; 
 but it is too late. You won t now. 1 
 
 Words cannot describe the fury of Michael Rust at seeing 
 himself thus bearded by one whom he had been used to see 
 truckle to him, whom he considered the mere tool of Craig, 
 and whom he had never thought it worth while even to con 
 sult in their previous interviews. 
 
 * Won t I ? won t I ? Look to yourself, muttered he, shak 
 ing his finger at him with a slow, cautioning gesture : Look 
 to yourself. 
 
 * You re right, I will ; I say I will 1 exclaimed Jones, con- 
 
HARRY EARS ON. 251 
 
 fronting him. I say I will ; and now I do ! He grasped 
 him by the throat and shook him as if he had been a child. 
 
 I might as well kill him at once, muttered he, without 
 heeding the struggles of Rust. It s him or me. I 11 do it. 
 
 Coming to this fatal conclusion, he flung Rust on the 
 floor and leaped upon him. At this moment, however, the 
 door of the closet was thrown open, and Grosket, whom he 
 had entirely forgotten, sprang suddenly out : 
 
 Come, come, this won t do ! said he ; no murder ! 
 
 Jones made no effort to resist the jerk at his arm with 
 which Grosket accompanied his words, but quietly rose, and 
 said: 
 
 4 Well, he drove me to it. He may thank you for his 
 life, not me? 
 
 Relieved from his antagonist, Rust recovered his feet, and 
 turning to Grosket, said, in a sneering tone : 
 
 Michael Rust thanks Enoch for having used his influence 
 with his friend to prevent the commission of a crime which 
 might have made both Enoch and his crony familiar with a 
 gallows. A select circle of acquaintance friend Enoch has. 
 
 Grosket quietly pointed to the closet and said : 
 
 You forget that I have been there ever since you came in 
 the room ; and have overheard every thing that passed be 
 tween you and my friend. 
 
 Rust bit his lip. 
 
 Do n t let it annoy you, continued he, * for the most of 
 what I heard I knew before. I have had my eye on you 
 from the time we parted. With all your benevolent schemes 
 respecting myself I am perfectly familiar. The debt which 
 you bought up to arrest me on ; your attempt to have me 
 indicted on a false charge of felony ; the quiet hint dropped 
 in another quarter, that if I should be found with my throat 
 cut or a bullet in my head, you would n t break your heart ; 
 
252 HARRY H ARSON. 
 
 I know them all; but I did not avail myself of the law. 
 Shall I tell you why, Michael Bust ? Because I had a re 
 venge sweeter than the law could give. 
 
 Friend Enoch is welcome to it when he gets it, replied 
 Rust, in a soft tone. * But the day when it will come is far 
 off. 
 
 The day is at hand, replied Grosket. It is here : it is 
 now. Not for a mine of gold would I forego what I now 
 know ; not for any thing that is dear in the world s eyes 
 would I spare you one pang that I can now inflict. 
 
 Rust smiled incredulously, but made no reply. 
 
 Your schemes are frustrated, continued Grosket. The 
 children are both found ; their parentage known ; your 
 name blasted. The brother who fostered you and loaded 
 you with kindness will have his eyes opened to your true 
 character ; and you will be a felon, amenable to the law, 
 whenever any man shall think fit to call it down upon your 
 head. But this is nothing to what is in reserve for you. 
 
 Well, said Rust, with the same quiet smile : please to 
 enumerate what other little kindnesses you have in store 
 for me. 
 
 I will, replied Grosket. / was once a happy man. I 
 had a wife and daughter, whom I loved. My wife is dead ; 
 what became of my child ? I say, exclaimed he bitterly, 
 * what became of my child ? 
 
 4 Young women will forget themselves sometimes, said 
 Rust, his thin lip curling. She became a harlot only a 
 harlot. 
 
 Grosket grew pale, and his voice became less clear, as he 
 answered : 
 
 * You re right you re right ! why shrink from the 
 word ? It s a harsh one ; but it s God s truth ; she did 
 and she died. 
 
HA R R Y HA RSON. 253 
 
 1 That s frank, said Rust, quite frank. I am a straight 
 forward man, and always speak the truth. I m glad to see 
 that friend Enoch can bear it like a Christian. 
 
 A loud, taunting laugh broke from Grosket ; and then he 
 said : 
 
 Thus much for me; now for yourself, Michael Rust. 
 You once had a wife. 
 
 Rust s calm sneer disappeared in an instant, and he seemed 
 absolutely to wither before the keen flashing eye which was 
 fixed steadfastly on his. 
 
 She lived with you two years ; and then she became 
 shall I tell you what ? 
 
 Rust s lips moved, but no sound came from them. Gros 
 ket bent his lips to his ear, and whispered in it. Rust neither 
 moved nor spoke. He seemed paralyzed. 
 
 But she died, continued Grosket, * and she left a child 
 a daughter ; mine was a daughter too. 
 
 Rust started from a state of actual torpor ; every energy 
 every faculty, every feeling leaping into life. 
 
 That daughter is now alive, continued Grosket, speaking 
 slowly, that every word might tell with tenfold force. That 
 daughter now is what you drove my child to be a 
 harlot. 
 
 * It s false as hell ! shouted Rust, in a tone that made 
 the room ring. It s false ! 
 
 * It s true. I can prove it ; prove it, clear as the noon 
 day, returned Grosket, with a loud, exulting laugh. 
 
 Oh ! Enoch ! oh, Enoch ! said Rust, in a broken, sup 
 plicating tone, * tell me that it s false, and I 11 bless you ! 
 Crush me, blight me, do what you will, only tell me that my 
 own loved child is pure from spot or stain ! Tell me so, I 
 beseech you ; /, Michael Rust, who never begged a boon 
 before / beseech you. 
 
254 HARRY EAR 8 ON. 
 
 He fell on his knees in front of Grosket, and clasping his 
 hands together, raised them toward him. 
 
 I cannot, replied Grosket, coldly, for it s as true as 
 that there is a heaven above us ! 
 
 Rust made an effort to speak; his fingers worked con 
 vulsively, and he fell prostrate on the floor. 
 
HARRY 11 A R .V. 255 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 IT was not the failure of his plans, nor the dread of de 
 tection, which broke Rust down. He had been prepared for 
 that, and had nerved himself to meet it ; but it was a blow 
 coming from a quarter where he had not dreamed of harm, 
 and wounding him where alone he could feel a pang, that 
 crushed him. There was something so abject in the prostra 
 tion of that iron-willed man, who had often endured what 
 would have wrung the very souls of other men, without ex 
 hibiting any other feeling than contempt, that for a moment 
 awed even the hard man who had struck the blow. In pro 
 portion as Rust s control over his emotions had been great, 
 so now the reaction was terrible. He seemed paralyzed in 
 body and mind. No cry escaped him, but his breath rattled 
 as he drew it ; his long hair hung loosely over his face and 
 upon the floor ; his eyes were closed ; his features livid 
 and distorted ; and but for his struggling breath, and the 
 spasmodic jerking of his ringers, he seemed dead. 
 
 Lift him up, Bill, said Grosket, in a subdued tone. It s 
 been too much for him. Who d have thought he had a 
 heart ? 
 
 Jones smiled grimly, as he said : * I m glad you did it, 
 Mr. Grosket. It was better than murdering him. He was n t 
 afeard of dying. Is it a fit he s got ? 
 
 Without waiting for a reply, he placed his arms under him 
 and raised him up. Rust lay heavily against him, his head 
 falling back, and his arms dangling at his side. They car 
 ried him to the bench, and placed him on it, Grosket stand 
 ing behind him and supporting his back. 
 
256 HARRY H ARSON. 
 
 * I guess he s done for, said Jones, pushing the hair from 
 his face. Pity it was n t three days ago that s all. 
 
 Get some water or brandy, said Grosket; I suppose we 
 may as well bring him to. It would be an ugly business if 
 he should die on our hands. 
 
 Jones stooped down, and picking up his great-coat, com 
 menced fumbling in his pocket, and drew out the bottle from 
 which he and Craig had drunk, as they were starting on their 
 expedition the previous night. He held it up and looked at 
 it, then muttered : It s no use ; it s no use. 
 
 What are you talking about there ? demanded Grosket 
 impatiently ; is it empty ? 
 
 Jones shook it. 
 
 4 No ; there s a drop or two in it. D n him ! I do n t 
 like his drinking out of this bottle, I do n t ; I use it myself; 
 and blow me, if I do n t think his mouth ud p ison it! 
 
 Grosket cut his scruples short by taking the bottle from 
 him, uncorking it, and pouring its contents into Rust s 
 mouth. 
 
 It s a waste, muttered Jones", eyeing his proceedings with 
 a very dissatisfied look. * I begrudged it to poor Tim ; and 
 cuss him, it s going down his gullet ! I hope it 11 choke 
 him. 
 
 Grosket paid no attention to him, but supported Rust, oc 
 casionally shaking him, by way of restoring his consciousness. 
 Either the liquor or the shaking had an effect ; for the deadly 
 paleness gradually disappeared from his face ; his breath 
 grew less short ; and finally he sat up and looked about him. 
 His eye was wandering and vacant, and sad and heart-broken 
 indeed was his tone. 
 
 My own dear child ! said he, in a voice so mild and win 
 ning, and so teeming with fondness, that none would have 
 recognized it as Rust s. I Ve had a strange dream, my 
 
HARRY HARSON. 257 
 
 poor little Mary, about you you, whom I have garnered 
 up in my heart of hearts. 
 
 His voice sank until his words were unintelligible, and 
 then he laughed feebly, and passed his hand backward and 
 forward in the air, as if caressing the head of a child. Your 
 eyes are very bright, my little girl, but they beam with happi 
 ness ; and so they shall, always. So they shall so they 
 shall. Kiss me, my own darling ! He extended his arms 
 and drew them toward him, as if they enfolded the child, 
 and then bending down his cheek, rocked to and fro, and 
 sang a song, such as is used in lulling an infant to sleep. 
 
 * My God ! He s clean gone mad ! said Jones, staring at 
 him with starting eyes. Dished and done up in ten min 
 utes ! That s what I call going to Bedlam by express. 
 
 Although Grosket uttered not a word of comment, his 
 keen gray eye, bright as a diamond ; his puckered brows ; 
 his compressed lips, and his hands tightly clasped together, 
 showed that he viewed his work with emotions of the most 
 powerful kind. At length he said, in a low tone, as if com 
 muning with himself rather than addressing the only person 
 who seemed capable of hearing him: If he goes mad, 
 he 11 spoil my scheme. He 11 not reap the whole harvest 
 that I have sown for him. He must live ; ay, and in his sane 
 mind, to feel its full bitterness. I, /have lived, said he, strik 
 ing his breast ; / have borne up against the same curse that 
 now is on him. / have had the same feeling gnawing at my 
 heart, giving me no rest, no peace. He must suffer. He 
 must not take refuge from himself in madness. He shall 
 not, said he, savagely. * Who would have thought that the 
 flint which the old fellow carries in his breast and calls his 
 heart, had feeling in it ? 
 
 Whether these remarks reached Rust s ear, or whether it 
 was that his mind, after the first shock of the intelligence 
 
258 HARRY HARSON. 
 
 was over, was beginning to rally, is a matter of doubt ; but 
 from some cause or other, he suddenly discontinued his sing 
 ing, passed his hand across his forehead, held his long hair 
 back from his face, and stared about him ; his eye wander 
 ing from Grosket to Jones, and around the room, and then 
 resting on the floor. He sat for some time looking stead 
 fastly down, his face gradually regaining its stern, unbending 
 character ; his thin lips compressing themselves until his 
 mouth had assumed its usual expression of bitterness, min 
 gled with resolution. 
 
 The two men watched, without speaking, the progress of 
 this metamorphosis. At last he rose, and turning to Gros 
 ket, said in a calm voice : 
 
 * You ve done your worst ; yet you see Michael Rust can 
 bear it ; and then bowing to him, he said : Good-bye, 
 Enoch. Whatever may have happened to my child, / am 
 blameless, /never sold her happiness to gratify my avarice. 
 If she has become what Enoch s child was, the sin does not 
 lie at my d - oor. I do n t know how it is with yow. 
 
 Turning to Jones, he said, in the same quiet tone : 
 Murderer of your bosom-friend, good-bye. The door 
 closed, and he was gone. 
 
 A bitter execration from each of the two men followed 
 him. From Jones, it burst forth in unbridled fury, and he 
 sprang forward to avenge the taunt, but was withheld by 
 Grosket, who grasped his arm, then as suddenly relinquished 
 his hold, and said : 
 
 Quick ! quick ! Jones. Drag him back ! It concerns 
 your safety and my plans to get him back. 
 
 The man dashed to the door and down the stairs. In a 
 moment he reappeared : 
 
 It s too late. He s in the street. 
 
HARRY EARS ON. 259 
 
 * Curse it ! that was a blunder ! We should have searched 
 him. He carries all his papers with him. 
 
 But almost at the same moment he seemed to overcome 
 his vexation, for he said : 
 
 Well, it can t be helped, so there s no use in grumbling 
 about it. And now, Bill Jones, said he, turning to the 
 other, you know what you ve done, and who set you on. 
 So do I. He s worse than you are. If you were he, I d 
 arrest you on the spot. As it is, I say you had better make 
 yourself scarce. Your neck is in danger ; for although the 
 death of Tim, if the rumor is true, was accidental 
 
 It was, it was, Mr. Grosket, interrupted Jones. D n 
 it, if it was Rust, if it was only him, I would n t mind it. 
 I d die myself, to see him swing. 
 
 Well, hear me, continued Grosket. You were com 
 mitting a felony when you killed Craig, and his death, 
 although accidental, is murder. I m no lawyer, but I know 
 that. You must run for it. 
 
 I d cuss all danger, said Jones, gnawing his lip, if I 
 could only lug Rust in it too. 
 
 Well, well, returned Grosket, you must take your own 
 course; but remember I ve warned you. You have some 
 good traits about you, Bill, and that s more than Rust has. 
 Good-bye ! He extended his hand to the burglar. Jones 
 grasped it eagerly. 
 
 Thank you ! thank you, Mr. Grosket, said he, the tears 
 starting to his eyes. If you only knew how I was brought 
 up, how I suffered, what has made -me what I am, you 
 would n t think so hard of me as some do. But there is 
 blood on me now : that s worse than all. I 11 never get 
 over that. I might, if it was n t Tim s. Good-bye. God 
 bless ye, Mr. Grosket ! My blessing won t do you much 
 good, but it can t hurt you. 
 
260 HARRY HARSON. 
 
 Grosket shook his hand, and left the room ; and the des 
 perate man whom he left, melted by a transient word of 
 kindness, which had found its way to his rugged heart, 
 buried his face in his hands, and wept. 
 
 Once in the street, Rust endeavored to bear up against 
 his fortune. But he could not. His mind wandered, 
 and all his thoughts were strange, fantastic, and shadowy. 
 He paused ; dashed his hand impatiently against his fore 
 head, and endeavored to shake off the spell. No, no ! it 
 would not leave him. Failure in his schemes ! dishonor to 
 his child ! He could think of them, and of them only. 
 Once on this theme, his mind became more bewildered than 
 ever; and yielding himself to its impulses, he fell into a 
 slow pace, and sauntered on, with his chin bent down on his 
 breast. 
 
 From the thickly-settled parts of the town he went on, 
 until he came to streets where the bustle and crowd were 
 less ; then to others, which were nearly deserted ; then on 
 he went, until he reached a quarter where the houses stood 
 far apart, with vacant lots between them. Still he kept on. 
 Then came fields, and cottages, and farm-houses, surrounded 
 by tall trees. Still on he went, still wading through a mass 
 of chaotic fancies, springing up, and reeling and flitting 
 through his mind ; shadows of things that had been, and 
 might be ; ghosts of the past ; prophets of the future. He 
 had become a very child. At last he .stood on the bank of 
 the river ; and then for the first time he seemed to awaken 
 from his trance. 
 
 It was a glorious day, whose sunshine might have found 
 its way even into his black heart. Oh ! how soft, and 
 mellow, and pure, the hurricane of the last night had left it ! 
 Not a cloud in the sky, not a breath to ripple the water, or 
 
HARRY HARSON. 261 
 
 to wave the Ipng trailing locks of the hoary willows which 
 nodded over its banks. 
 
 Rust looked about him with a bewildered gaze, until his 
 eye became fixed upon the water. It s very quiet, very 
 quiet, said he ; I wonder if a man, once engulfed in it, 
 feels peace. He pressed his hand to his breast, and muttered : 
 Here it is gone for ever ! 
 
 He loitered listlessly on, under the trees. His step was 
 feeble ; and he stooped and tottered, as if decrepit. He 
 stopped again, shook his head, and went on, looking upon 
 the ground, and at times long and wistfully at the river. 
 
 An old man, leaning on a stout cane> who had been 
 watching him, at last came up. Raising his hat as he did 
 so, he said : 
 
 * You seem, like myself, to be an admirer of this noble 
 river. 
 
 Rust looked up at him sharply, ready to gather in his 
 energies, if necessary. But there was nothing in the mild, 
 dignified face of the speaker to invite suspicion, and he 
 replied in a feeble tone : 
 
 * Yes, yes ; it is a noble river. 
 
 * I ve seen many, in my long life, said the other, * and 
 have never met its equal. 
 
 Rust paused, as if he did not hear him, and then con 
 tinued in a musing tone : 
 
 * How smooth it is ! how calm ! Many have found peace 
 there, who never found it in life. Drowning s an easy death, 
 I m told. 
 
 The stranger replied gravely, and even sternly : 
 
 * They have escaped the troubles of life, and plunged into 
 those of eternity ; and then, as if willing to give Rust an 
 opportunity of explaining away the singular character of the 
 remark, he said : * I hope you do not meditate suicide ? 
 
262 HARRY HARSON. 
 
 No, replied Rust, quietly, not at present; but I ve often 
 thought that many a wrecked spirit will find there what it 
 never found on earth peace. 
 
 The body may, returned the other, but not the sou]. 
 
 Rust smiled doubtfully, and walked off. The man watched, 
 and even followed him ; but seeing him turn from the river, 
 he took another direction, occasionally pausing to look back. 
 Not so Rust. From the time he had parted with the stranger, 
 he had forgotten him, and his thoughts wandered back to 
 their old theme. It was strange that he should believe so 
 implicitly Grosket s tale, coming as it did from one whom he 
 knew hated him. Yet he did believe it. There was proof 
 of its truth in Grosket s manner ; in his look ; in his tone 
 of assured triumph. Yet, although Rust brooded over 
 nothing else that livelong day, he could not realize it ; he 
 could not appreciate how desolate and lonely he was. He 
 could only fancy what life would be, if what Grosket had 
 told him had happened. This is not all a dream, I sup 
 pose, muttered he, pausing as he went, and passing his hand 
 across his forehead. No, no ; I m awake wide awake ; 
 and / am Michael Rust; that s more strange than all. 
 
 After hours of wandering, he found himself at his office, 
 ascended the stairs, opened the door, and went in. It was 
 dark, for the lights had been blazing in the shop -windows 
 before he left the street ; but he sat down without observing 
 it ; and there he remained until Kornicker came in with a 
 light. 
 
 Rust made no reply to the salutation which he received. 
 Kornicker placed the light on the table ; and after loitering 
 round the room, and busying himself with a few papers 
 which he had arranged on the table, to give it a business 
 like appearance, he asked : 
 
 * Do you want me any more to-night ? 
 
HARRY HARSON. 263 
 
 No ; you may go. 
 
 The dismissal and departure of Mr. Kornicker were almost 
 simultaneous. His heavy foot went thumping from step to 
 step, and finally the street-door banged shut after him. Rust 
 sat without moving, listening to every tramp of his heavy 
 foot, until the door shut it out. 
 
 So, he s gone, said he, drawing a long breath, and 
 cuddling himself up on his chair. * He 11 be in my way no 
 more to-night. 
 
 He shivered slightly; and then got up and drew his 
 chair nearer to the grate, although there was no fire in it. 
 And this is then the end of all my schemes, muttered he; I 
 have gone on for years in the same beaten track, fighting off 
 all who could interfere with me. The affection of those who 
 would have loved me friends, relatives, those nearest to me, 
 with the same blood in our veins, nursed in the same arms, 
 who drew life from the same source this cold heart has 
 repulsed, until they have all abandomed me ! 
 
 He leaned his head on his hands, and tears, scalding tears, 
 gushed from his eyes. * I did it for her. It was to get gold 
 to lavish on her. I would have chained myself for life to 
 that old man s daughter, to get wealth ; I would have added 
 the destruction of those children to the catalogue of my 
 crimes, that I might have grasped their inheritance, to have 
 showered all that I had gathered by toil and crime upon her. 
 She was my hope, my pride, my own dear darling child ; 
 but she is shipwrecked now ; she has withered my heart. 
 I would have shed its last blood for her. I would I 
 would; indeed I would! But it s useless to think of it. 
 She can never be what she was; the bright, pure-souled, 
 spotless child whom I worshipped. Yes, yes ; I did worship 
 her ! Why deny it ? Better, far better she had died, for 
 
264 HAR IF H ARSON. 
 
 then I might still have cherished her memory. It s too late 
 now. She s become a castaway. 
 
 He paused. From a state of deep and querulous despond 
 ency, he gradually recovered composure ; then his mood 
 grew sterner and sterner ; until his compressed lips and flash 
 ing eye showed that he had passed from one extreme to the 
 other. 
 
 * Is there nothing left to live for ? exclaimed he ; nothing 
 left? One thing can yet be done. I must ascertain her 
 disgrace beyond a doubt. Then atonement can and shall be 
 made, or he had better never have been born ! 
 
 Rust stood up, with an expression of bold, honest indig 
 nation, such as he had rarely worn, stamped on every 
 feature. -This must be accomplished, said he. Every 
 thing else must be abandoned ; this done, let me die ; for I 
 cannot love her as I did, and I might hate her. Better die! 
 
HARRY HARSON. 265 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 RICTKIRD HOLMES, Esq., was sitting in his office, two days 
 after the events narrated in the last chapter, with his nose 
 within a few inches of a law-book which rested on his 
 knees, when he was aroused by the opening of the door, and 
 the entrance of a man. Holmes was so much out of the 
 world, and out of the current of business, that he did what 
 a practitioner at the bar of his age and standing rarely does j 
 that is, he looked up without waiting till he was addressed. 
 
 Ah, Harson ! it s you, is it ? said he, laying aside his 
 book, but without rising. 
 
 Harry walked up, shook hands with him, and seated 
 himself. 
 
 * We Ve been hard at work, and have made some progress/ 
 said he, taking off his hat, and placing it on the table. 
 * We Ve got the woman. 
 
 What woman ? 
 
 Blossom, replied Harson; I ve brought her here to 
 answer for herself. She was in Rust s employ, and received 
 the children from him. She s below. 
 
 What news of the boy ? inquired Holmes. 
 
 All right ; Grosket has him. Would you like to see the 
 woman ? 
 
 It would be as well, said Holmes, drumming on the 
 table. We ll hear what she has to say. Does she com 
 municate what she knows willingly, or under compulsion ? 
 
 1 She s not very talkative, answered Harson, and seems 
 terribly afraid of Rust. 
 
 12 
 
268 HARRY HARSON. 
 
 l l think we can squeeze the truth out of her, replied 
 Holmes. * Bring her up. 
 
 Harson went out, and in a few minutes reappeared with 
 Mrs. Blossom. The lawyer pointed to a chair, into which 
 the lady sank, apparently in a state of great exhaustion and 
 agitation ; for she moaned, and rocked to and fro, and 
 wrung her hands. 
 
 Your name s Blossom, I think, said Holmes, evincing 
 no sympathy whatever with her sufferings. 
 
 Ah s me ! ah s me ! I m very old ! I m very old ! 
 exclaimed the lady in a moaning tone, but without making 
 any reply to the question. 
 
 * Hark ye, said Holmes, in a stern tone, * I have not sent 
 for you, to be trifled with. You have come here to disclose 
 the deeds of a scoundrel ; and disclose them you must. You 
 shall answer all my questions, truly, honestly, and without 
 equivocation, or it will be the worse for you. I am aware of 
 offences committed by you, which, if punished as they merit, 
 would send you to prison. I tell you this, that you may 
 know exactly how we stand with reference to each other. 
 If you wish to serve yourself, you will find true and prompt 
 replies to whatever I ask. What s your name ? 
 
 Mrs. Blossom oscillated in her chair, glanced at the wall, 
 replied l Blossom, and buried her face in a rag of a shawl. 
 
 Good ! Where do you live ? demanded the lawyer. 
 The woman answered, and Holmes wrote it down. 
 
 4 Do you know a man by the name of Michael Rust ? 
 
 Mrs. Blossom s chair became very uneasy, and she was 
 seized with a violent cough. The lawyer waited until her 
 cough was better, and repeated the question, accompanying 
 it by a look which produced an answer in the affirmative. 
 
 4 What other name did you ever know him to bear ? 
 
 Mrs. Blossom suddenly found her voice, and replied 
 
HARRY IT ARSON. 267 
 
 boldly : * No Qther ; and here she spoke the truth ; for 
 although Rust had at last been obliged to disclose to her his 
 assumed name, yet he had trusted her no farther than was 
 absolutely necessary. 
 
 How long have you known him ? 
 
 Mrs. Blossom again lost her voice, but found it instantly 
 on meeting the eye of Holmes ; and she answered bluntly : 
 
 About four years. 
 
 What led to your acquaintance ? 
 
 The woman cast a shrewd suspicious glance at him, as if 
 calculating how far she might trifle with impunity : but 
 there was something in his manner that was not encourag 
 ing, and she replied, that she could not remember. 
 
 Holmes laid down his pen, and pushing back his chair so 
 that he faced her, said, in a quiet but very decided manner : 
 
 Mrs. Blossom, you have been brought here for the pur 
 pose of giving us such information as will enable us to do 
 justice to a person who has been greatly injured by this 
 man Rust. I mention this, not because I suppose the motive 
 will have any great weight with you, but to let you see that 
 the object of our investigation is nothing against yourself. 
 Your answers are important to us ; for at present we know 
 no other than yourself, of whom we can obtain the informa 
 tion we require. I do not conceal this, nor will I conceal 
 the fact that, unless you do answer me, you shall leave this 
 room for a prison. I told you so before ; I repeat it now ; 
 I will not repeat it a third time. I already know enough of 
 the matter on which I am interrogating you, to be able to 
 detect falsehood in your answers. 
 
 There was something either in the words of the lawyer or 
 in the formation of her chair that caused Mrs. Blossom to 
 sit very uneasily, and at the same time to cast a glance 
 behind her, as if there existed a strong connection between 
 
2C8 HARRY H ARSON. 
 
 her thtights and the door. She was, however, used to trying 
 circumstances, and did not lose her presence of mind. She 
 made no reply, but sat with every faculty, which long train 
 ing had sharpened to a high degree of cunning, on the alert ; 
 but she was not a little taken by surprise when Holmes, 
 after taking from the table a packet of papers, selected one, 
 and having spent a few minutes in examining it, said to her : 
 To convince you that we are perfectly acquainted with 
 the nature of your dealings with Rust, I will enter into a few 
 details, which may perhaps enable you to recollect something 
 more. Four years since, on the sixteenth of December, a 
 man by the name of Blossom, with whom you lived, and 
 whose name you bear, although you are not his wife, pro 
 posed to you to take charge of two children, a boy and girl. 
 At first you refused, but finally agreed to do it on receiving 
 five hundred dollars, and the assurance that no inquiry 
 would be made as to the treatment they received at youi 
 hands, and that whether they lived or died was a matter of 
 indifference to the person who placed them in your charge, 
 and would not be too closely investigated. The children 
 came. They were quite young. You had them for a week, 
 and were then informed that they must go, for a time, to 
 the country. You asked no questions, but gave them up, 
 and they were sent away, the money for their support being 
 furnished by the same hand that threw them upon your 
 mercy. In a year or so they were brought back, and were 
 again intrusted to you, with instructions to break them 
 down, and, if possible, to send them to their graves ; but if 
 their bodies were proof against cruelty, then so to pollute 
 their very souls, and familiarize them with crime, that they 
 should forget what they had been ; and that even those who 
 should have loved them best would blush to see what they 
 were. You began your work well, for you had a stern, 
 
HARRY HARSON. 269 
 
 savage master ,over you Michael Rust. Thus much, said 
 he, I know ; but I must know more. You must identify 
 the children as the same first delivered to you by Rust. You 
 must disclose the names of the persons with whom they 
 lived in the country. You must also give me such informa 
 tion as will enable us to fasten this crime on Rust. Another 
 person could have proved all this the man Blossom ; but 
 you know he is dead. 
 
 He paused, for Mrs. Blossom s face grew deadly pale as he 
 spoke. It was momentary, however ; and might have passed 
 away entirely, had not a strange suspicion fastened itself on 
 his mind. He added, in a slow tone : 
 
 What ailed him, you know best. 
 
 Mrs. Blossom s thin lips grew perfectly white, and moved 
 as if she were attempting to speak. 
 
 Will you give me the information I require ? or will you 
 accept the alternative ? said Holmes, still keeping his eye 
 upon her. 
 
 Go on ; what do you want ? demanded she, in a quick, 
 husky voice. 
 
 You are acquainted with Michael Rust ? 
 
 I am, replied she, in the same quick, nervous manner. 
 
 How did you first become acquainted with him ? 
 
 * You know all that, was the abrupt reply. Why should 
 I go over it again ? It s all true, as you said it. 
 
 Did he ever go by any other name than Rust ? 
 
 He never told me any name at all, said the woman, 
 * and threatened my life if I found any out ; but I did I 
 did. It was Rust ! Michael Rust ! 
 
 Any other name ? inquired Holmes. 
 
 The woman shook her head. None ! 
 
 Holmes paused to make a note of it, and then asked : 
 
270 HARRY EARS ON. 
 
 4 What is the name of the person, in the country, who 
 took charge of the children ? 
 
 4 I do n t know, replied the woman. Michael Rust sent 
 a man for them, who took them off. 
 
 Who was this man ? 
 
 I do n t know ; I never saw him. Mr. Blossom gave the 
 children to him, and never told me his name. 
 
 4 Good, said Holmes, in his short, abrupt manner. Where 
 are these children now ? 
 
 4 One s at his house, replied she, pointing to Harson. 
 4 The other, by this time, is with a man named Grosket. 
 He s been arter him, and I suppose has got him by this 
 time. 
 
 4 Enoch Grosket ? inquired Holmes. 
 
 The woman nodded. 4 1 told him where he d find him. 
 He went straight off to fetch him. 
 
 4 Will you swear that they are the same children brought 
 to you four years since ? said Holmes, pausing in his writ 
 ing, and running his eye over the notes which he had made. 
 * Do you know them to be the same ? 
 
 4 The man said so, who brought em back at the end of 
 the year. That s all I know about it. They never left me 
 arter that. 
 
 4 Who was that man ? 
 
 4 Tim Craig, replied the woman ; 4 but he did n t know 
 that Mr. Rust had any thing to do with them then. He 
 thought it was Grosket. 
 
 4 Tim draig ! and he s dead. The only person who could 
 reveal their place of concealment during that year, and the 
 name of those who had the care of them. The chain is 
 broken, by which to identify them as the lost children of 
 George Colton. Who can aid us in this ? 
 
HARRY HARSON. 271 
 
 * I CAN ! said a voice. 
 
 All three started ; for there, at their very elbow, stood 
 Michael Rust ; but Rust, fearfully altered, worn down, wan, 
 haggard, with sunken cheeks, and features rigid and color 
 less. But, wrecked as he was, there was still that strange 
 sneering smile on his lip, which seemed as if only parting 
 to utter sarcasm and mockery. But now he was serious in 
 his mood, for he repeated : 
 
 4 1 can ; and without my aid, the secret must be a secret 
 for ever. 
 
 Holmes rose, angrily, from his seat. 
 
 What brought you here ? demanded he. 
 
 Be seated, I beg of you, said Rust, bowing, and speaking 
 in a low, mocking tone. What brought me here ? You 
 called upon me, I think ; it was but civil to return the visit. 
 I have come to do so. 
 
 This is idle, Sir, replied Holmes, coldly. You came for 
 some purpose. Name it. The sooner this interview is over, 
 the more agreeeble I suppose it will be for both of us. 
 
 For me, certainly, said Rust, in a manner so constrained 
 and different from his usual one, that the lawyer was in 
 doubt whether he was in jest or earnest. Then he added, in 
 a bitter tone : * You ask what brought me here. Destiny, 
 folly, revenge perhaps against my own heart s blood. Call 
 it what you will ; here I am ; and ready to clear up the 
 very matter which now perplexes you. What more do you 
 want ? 
 
 Holmes replied, with a sarcastic smile : * The assistance of 
 Michael Rust is likely to be as great as his sincerity. We 
 certainly should place great reliance on it. 
 
 Rust, perfectly unmoved by the taunt, answered in a tone 
 BO bitter, so full of hatred to himself, so replete with the out- 
 
272 HARRY HARSON. 
 
 pouring of a cankered heart, so despairing and reckless, that 
 the lawyer felt that even in him there might be some truth : 
 
 I care not whether you trust me or not ; I care not 
 whether you believe me or not. If Michael Rust could ever 
 have been swayed by the opinions of others, it would have 
 been before this ; it s too late to begin now. I came here 
 because I have failed in all I undertook ; because I am be 
 ginning to hate the one for whom I have toiled, until I grew 
 gray with the wearing away of mind and body ; because the 
 soul of life is gone. I do it out of revenge against that per 
 son. It is not remorse; it is not conscience; but it s re 
 venge. Look at me : that person has blasted me. Do I not 
 show it in every feature and limb ? Now you understand 
 me. My schemes are abandoned ; and I shall soon be where 
 neither man nor law can reach me. My secret can do me no 
 good ; why should I keep it ? Perhaps the recollection of 
 past days and of past favors from one whom I have wronged, 
 may have had its weight; perhaps not. I ve come to tell 
 the truth. If you will hear it, well ; if not, I go, and it goes 
 with me. 
 
 Holmes and Harson exchanged looks, and Harson nodded, 
 as if in acquiescence to some proposition which he supposed 
 the looks of the other to indicate. 
 
 Well, Sir, replied Holmes, we will hear what you have 
 to say. 
 
 * Stop, said Rust ; before uttering a word, I must have a 
 promise. 7 
 
 The lawyer looked at him, and then at Harson, as much 
 &B to say : I expected it. There s some trick in it. 
 
 Rust observed it, and said : Spare your suspicions ; I 
 have come here to be frank and honest in word and deed ; 
 and Michael Rust can be so, when the fancy seizes him. 
 The promise I require is this : whatever I may reveal, no 
 
HARRY H ARSON. 273 
 
 matter what the penalty, you will not set the blood-hounds 
 of the law on my track within forty- eight hours. I have yet 
 one act to perform in the great farce of life. That accom 
 plished, you may do your worst. 
 
 * This is all very strange, said Holmes, eyeing the thin, 
 excited features of his visitor, as if not altogether sure of his 
 sanity. 4 If you fear the punishment of your misdeeds, why 
 reveal them ? Why place yourself in our power, or run the 
 risk of our interfering with your future movements ? 
 
 Rust replied bitterly : You shall hear. My whole life has 
 been spent for one person my own child. Every faculty of 
 mind and body has been devoted to her, and every crime I 
 have committed was to promote her interest. Scruples were 
 disregarded ; ties of blood set at defiance ; every thing that 
 binds man to man, that deters from wrong, were disregarded, 
 if they stood in the way of that one grand aim of life. She 
 forgot all ! She has broken me down, heart and spirit. Love 
 and devotion were crushed with them, and revenge has sprung 
 up from their ruins. Ay ! revenge against my own child ! 
 Should any thing prevent my doing what I have yet to do, 
 and should my brother die, and his children not be found, 
 she would be his heir. / would have labored and succeeded 
 for one who has disgraced me, and made me what you see 
 <ne! 
 
 He stretched out his thin hands, displaying the large 
 veins coursing beneath the skin, and apparently full to 
 bursting. How wasted they are ! He smiled as he looked 
 at them, and then asked : Will you promise ? 
 
 The lawyer turned to Harson, and then said : * I promise ; 
 do you, Harson ? Harry nodded. 
 
 Good ! said Rust abruptly. 4 You know my name, and 
 much of my history. All the facts which you detailed to me 
 at my office a short time since are true true almost to the 
 
 12* 
 
274 HARRY HA R SON. 
 
 very letter. Michael Rust and Henry Cotton are or.e. The 
 plodding, scheming, heartless, unprincipled Henry Cotton, 
 who could sell his brother s own flesh and blood for gold ; 
 who could forget all the kindnesses heaped upon him, and 
 stab his benefactor, and this wreck of Michael Rust, are 
 one! 
 
 He struck his hand against his chest, and strode up and 
 down the room. He was rich, and / was poor : he gave me 
 the means of living, but I wanted more. I had my eye on 
 his entire wealth, and I wanted him to be in his grave. But 
 he thwarted me in that. Feeble and sickly, so that a 
 breath might have destroyed him, he lived on ; and at last, 
 as if to balk me farther, he married. Two children were 
 born ; two more obstacles between me and my aim. Two 
 children ! two more of the same blood for me to love. 
 Ho ! ho ! how Michael Rust loved those babes ! exclaimed 
 he, clutching his ringers above his head, and gasping as he 
 spoke. He turned, and fastening his glaring eye on the 
 lawyer, griped his fingers together, with his teeth hard set, 
 and speaking through them, said in a sharp whisper : * I 
 could have strangled them ! 
 
 He paused ; and then went on : At last came the thought 
 of removing them. At first it was vague ; it came like a 
 shadow, and went off ; then it came again, and more distinct. 
 Then it became stronger and stronger, until it grew into a 
 passion a very madness. At last my mind was made up, 
 and my plans formed. I trusted no one, but carried them 
 off myself, and delivered them to the husband of that wo 
 man, pointing to Mrs. Blossom. * I told him nothing of 
 their history : he was paid to take charge of them, and asked 
 no questions. Then came the clamor of pursuit. I daily 
 met and comforted my broken-hearted brother and his wife ; 
 I held out hopes which I knew were false ; I offered rewards; 
 
HARRY EARS N. 2 7 
 
 I turned pursuit in every direction except the right one. 
 They both thanked me, and looked upon me as their best 
 friend; and so I was, for I kept up hope; and what is 
 life without it ? At last the search approached the neigh 
 borhood where the children really were, and they were sent 
 to the country. The only person who aided me was Enoch 
 Grosket. I told him, however, nothing respecting the his 
 tory of the children, nor where they went ; but he found it 
 out afterwards. 
 
 Where was it ? inquired Holmes, anxiously, and to 
 whom did you send them ? 
 
 1 1 have prepared ic all, said Rust : he drew a letter from 
 his pocket and handed it to him. * You 11 find it there, and 
 the names of the persons ; they know nothing of the child 
 ren ; but they can identify them as those left with them four 
 years ago ; and they still have the clothes which they wore 
 at the time ; but the girl s resemblance to her mother will 
 save all that trouble. 
 
 He paused, with his dark eyes fastened on the floor, and 
 his lips working with intense emotion. 
 
 And is it possible that the love of gold can lead one to 
 crimes like these ! said Holmes, in a subdued tone. 
 
 Love of gold ! exclaimed Rust, fiercely ; * what cared I 
 for gold ? Ho ! ho ! Michael Rust values gold but as dross : 
 but it is the world ; the cringing, obsequious, miser-hearted 
 world, which kisses the very feet of wealth, that set Michael 
 Rust on ; it was this that lashed him forward ; but not for 
 himself. I married a woman whom I loved, said he, in a 
 quick, stern tone ; she abandoned me and became an out 
 cast, and paid the penalty by an outcast s fate : she died in 
 the streets. The love which I bore her I transferred to my 
 child. I was poor, and I resolved that she should be rich. 
 Can jou understand my motive now? I loved my own 
 
276 HARRY H ARSON. 
 
 flesh and blood better than my brother s. I have now re 
 linquished my plans, and have told you why. 
 
 A pause of some moments ensued, and Rust said : Is 
 there any thing more that you want ? If so, tell me at once, 
 for after to-day we shall never meet again. 
 
 Holmes ran his eye over the papers, and selecting two 
 letters, handed them to Rust, and said : 
 
 How do you account for the difference of that hand-writ 
 ing, if Michael Rust and Henry Colton are one ? 
 
 Michael Rust wrote one hand, Henry Colton another, 
 said Rust ; * but / wrote both. He seized a pen, wrote a 
 few words, signed the names Michael Rust and Henry Col 
 ton, and flung it on the table. The game had been well 
 studied before it was played. 
 
 4 Your writing is well disguised indeed, said the lawyer, 
 comparing it with the letters ; it solves that difficulty. 
 
 Any thing else ? demanded Rust, impatiently ; my time 
 is limited. 
 
 Holmes shook his head ; but Harson said : A few words 
 about Jacob Rhoneland. 
 
 Well! 1 
 
 * You accuse him of forgery ; what does that mean ? 
 
 He was a fool. I wanted to marry his daughter ; I 
 represented myself to him as very rich, to tempt his avarice ; 
 that failed. I added entreaties ; they failed. Then I tried 
 the effect of fear. He yielded to that for a time, but at last 
 he overcame even that. 
 
 And the tale? 
 
 Was well fabricated, but false. 7 
 
 AndNedSomers? 
 
 I had to get rid of hjqtv -.what could I do while he was 
 dallying round the girl^fl IK get rid of him : a few lies 
 whispered to the old man^ulLjiiia adrift. "But I m tired 
 
HARRY H ARSON. 277 
 
 of this ; I came to tell what I pleased, and nothing more, 
 and I must be at work. You must respect your promise, 
 said he, turning to Holmes. 
 
 * I shall, and I hope your present errand at least is an 
 honest one. 
 
 It is, said Rust, with a strange smile ; it is to punish a 
 criminal. He opened the door and went off wUhout ao- 
 other word. 
 
 i- 
 
278 HARRY HARSON 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 BARRY HARSON strode into his own house, with his jolly 
 faoe brimful of cheerfulness. It shone out of his eyes ; out 
 of the corners of his half-closed mouth ; and even out of his 
 full, round double chin. Every part of him seemed glowing 
 with it ; and no sooner had he got in his parlor, than he 
 flung his hat on the table ; snapped his fingers in perfect 
 ecstacy ; made the hazardous experiment of a pirouette 
 around the table, and concluded bis performances by making 
 two or three passes with his cane at the nose of Spite, who 
 had been watching his conduct with an air of extreme sur 
 prise, not un mingled with disapprobation. The attack upon 
 himself was carrying the joke too far ; and after several in 
 effectual attempts to avoid the point of the cane, with a dis 
 contented grumble, between a whine and a growl, the dog 
 retreated under an old side-board, troubled with sad misgiv 
 ings as to the state of his master s intellect. 
 
 * Ha, ha ! old pup ! you do n t understand the science of 
 fence ; but do n t take it hard. I Ve got a drop of comfort 
 in store for you ; for we re to have a blow-out, Spite a 
 real, regular, out-and-out blow-out ha! ha! And you 
 shall be under the table during the whole of it, exclaimed 
 Harson, rubbing his hands together, and chuckling with in 
 describable glee. I 11 speak about it at once. He opened 
 the door and bawled out, in a voice that made the old house 
 shake : Hallo there ! Martha, Martha, come here, quick ! 
 
 A frantic rush across the kitchen was heard, succeeded by 
 a violent clatter of slip-shod shoes through the entry ; for 
 
HARRY II ARSON. 279 
 
 Martha, since the late burglary, being haunted in idea by 
 shabby-looking gentlemen with pistols in their pockets, and 
 dark lanterns under their arras, even in broad daylight, was 
 on the look-out for emergencies, and had every thing ready 
 for speedy egress to the street, either through the front door 
 or the cellar window ; and the tone of Harson s voice, being 
 that of a man in extremity, had such an effect upon her, 
 that when she reached the door, she could only gasp out : 
 
 Lor me ! is they here ag in ? 
 
 Who ? demanded Harson, not a little surprised at the 
 pale face of his housekeeper. 
 
 4 The robbers. 
 
 Poh, poll, nonsense ! replied he, perhaps a little annoyed 
 by the reflection that his own manner had contributed to 
 her mistake. There are no greater thieves here than our 
 two selves. Perhaps I did speak rather loud ; but I was not 
 thinking of what I was about. I shall have some friends to 
 dine with me to-morrow, and you must get things ready for 
 them. There may be six, or eight, or a dozen ; damme ! I 
 do n t know how many ; but have enough for twenty ; d y e 
 hear ? 
 
 Martha curtseyed, at the same time intimating, in a faint 
 tone, that she did hear ; for she had not entirely recovered 
 from the embarrassment attendant on the precipitancy of 
 her advent into his presence. 
 
 And hark ye ! continued Harson, warming as he went 
 on ; Frank s the very Devil and all ; we 11 tap the cask in 
 the corner of the cellar. It s prime stuff, which I Ve kept 
 for some great occasion ; and this is a glorious one. And 
 there s the fat saddle of mutton hanging in the store-room : 
 we 11 have that. It 11 be the very thing for the half-starved 
 boy we Ve found ; and bring down a bottle or two of the 
 red-seal wine; that of 1812. It ll wake up old Dick 
 
280 HAR R Y 11 A R S O JV. 
 
 Holmes, and make him ten years younger. There s no fear 
 of giving him the gout. Ha, ha ! Dick Holmes with the 
 gout ! I d like to see that ! exclaimed he, bursting out into 
 a broad laugh at the bare idea. Well, well, added he, 
 after a minute s consideration, you may go, Martha. Upon 
 the whole, I think I 11 get the things myself, and go to 
 market too. There, that s all. 
 
 Ilarson s spirits, however, were too exuberant to permit 
 him to remain quiet ; for after he had returned to the room, 
 drawn a chair to the fire, thrown on a few sticks of wood, 
 seated himself with a foot on each andiron, folded his hands 
 complacently over his abdomen, and fixed his eyes upon the 
 clock, as if it were a settled thing that he was to retain this 
 attitude for at least an hour, or perhaps a year, he suddenly 
 started up, thrust his thumbs in his waistcoat pockets, and 
 walked up and down the room, whistling with all his might ; 
 but even by whistling, he was unable to work off his surplus 
 of buoyancy. It was evidently gaining ground upon him, 
 do what he would. He had reached his present state by 
 rapid stages. From a feeling of complacency he had passed 
 to one of high satisfaction ; from that to one of mirthfulness ; 
 thence he advanced rapidly to one of joviality ; and he was 
 now fast verging upon one of uproariousness. Something 
 must be done ! Excessive steam bursts a boiler ; why should 
 not a similar excess of delight burst a man ? He would n t 
 risk it ! He must find some vent for it. Ha ! ha ! It just 
 occurred to him that the widow hadn t heard the news. 
 He clapped on his hat, seized his cane, and sallied out into 
 the street, in his haste shutting in Spite, who had started to 
 follow him, and who yelped mournfully for an hour after 
 ward, to the great dissatisfaction of a thin maiden lady who 
 resided next door, and was indulging herself in a nervous 
 headache. 
 
HARRY HARSON. 281 
 
 There must have been something in the expression of 
 Ilarson s face which bore the stamp of his feelings ; for as 
 lie trudged along, with a free, independent air, striding as 
 lustily as if only twenty instead of sixty years had passed 
 over his head, and as if every sinew were as well strung, and 
 every muscle as firm as ever ; not a few turned to take a 
 second look at his hearty, honest face ; for such an one was 
 not often met with ; and as they did so, observed : * There 
 goes a jolly old cock ! 
 
 Rap ! rap ! rap ! went the head of his cane against the 
 door of Mrs. Chowles s blinking old house ; but he was too 
 much at home to think of waiting for a reply, and had gone 
 through the ceremony only for the purpose of removing 
 from his entrance all appearance of being underhanded or 
 surreptitious ; for no sooner had he knocked with one hand, 
 than with the other he raised the latch and walked without 
 hesitation toward the widow s little parlor. 
 
 Ah, ha! my visit will be a surprise to her! thought he, 
 as he took the knob of the door in his hand. He was a true 
 prophet. A faint scream escaped the lady, for she was 
 opening the door to come out at the very moment he was 
 doing the same to enter; and as the movements of both 
 were rapid, the lady precipitated herself into his arms, which 
 in a most unexpected manner closed about her, while three 
 hearty smacks were deposited on her forehead before she 
 well knew where she was. 
 
 * Mr. Harson ! exclaimed she, extricating herself, though 
 without any appearance of anger ; is it you ? 
 
 By Jove, I believe it is ! replied Harson. * If it is n t, 
 it s some gay fellow of twenty or thereabout, for I have n t 
 been so young for thirty years as I am to-day. 
 
 Mrs. Chowles saw from his manner, and knew from the 
 unusual hour of his visit, that there was something on his 
 
282 HARRY H ARSON. 
 
 mind which he had come to communicate ; and as she was 
 not of that class who take pleasure in keeping others in 
 suspense, especially when she was liable to be a fellow- 
 suft erer, she drew an easy-chair to the fire, and taking a 
 seat in another, said : * Sit down, Harry. Now, what is it ? 
 what ails you ? 
 
 What ails me ? exclaimed her visitor, turning his joyous 
 countenance to her ; look at me. Do n t you see what a 
 boy I ve grown; how the wrinkles have gone from my 
 cheeks, and how clear and bright my eye is ! Look at 
 me, from top to toe. See how jolly I am, and hear how 
 loud and lusty my laugh is : Ha ! ha ! ha ! 
 
 The lady did look at him ; and did observe all the pecu 
 liarities to which he called her attention ; and did listen to 
 his loud ringing laugh ; and then, not knowing what to 
 make of him, drew away. 
 
 Aha ! widow, you re frightened at finding yourself alone 
 with such a gay fellow ! said he, laughing still more merrily. 
 4 Well, well, do n t be alarmed, for I m not in the least 
 dangerous; and to tell the truth, I am so overjoyed to-day 
 that I may be indulged in a little foolery. But I ll keep you 
 no longer in suspense. You recollect little Annie, the little 
 child who fled to my house for protection ? 
 
 Yes; well? 
 
 And you remember, too, how often I told you that that 
 poor, starved, cast-off little thing looked to me like one born 
 for a better destiny, and like one who had seen brighter 
 times ; and how often you ridiculed me, when I spoke of the 
 faint recollections which still flitted through her mind of 
 sunnier hours ; and how you said that they were merely 
 dreams, and that I was almost as great a child as she was, 
 to attach any weight to them ; though you admitted I 11 
 give you credit for that you did admit that she was a 
 
HARRY H ARSON. 283 
 
 beautiful, good little thing, and worthy to belong to the best 
 in the land. And when I said that Providence never would 
 have sent such a frail being as that into the world as a 
 beggar s brat, you told me, on the contrary, that HE might 
 have cast the lot of that child, frail, feeble, sickly as she was, 
 amid the very outcasts of the earth for wise purposes which 
 we never could fathom ; and that I had no right to reason in 
 that way on the subject, or to comment on His doings. And 
 there, widow, added he solemnly, you were right, and I 
 was very wrong. But I was correct in my surmises as to 
 the child. She was born for a brighter destiny even than 
 my humble roof; although, added he, his voice somewhat 
 choked, * she 11 never be where they 11 love her more. But 
 it s all right, and she must go ; for her parents are discovered. 
 They are of the best in the land ; she is not a beggar s brat. 
 Her brother, too, is found ; a miserable, thin, hollow-eyed 
 fellow ; but we 11 put flesh on him. This is not all, added 
 he : every body seems in luck to-day. Old Jacob Rhoneland 
 has escaped scathless out of Rust s clutches. Rust himself 
 is on his way to the Devil post-haste, and there is nothing 
 left to be done but to heal the breach between Jacob and 
 Ned. This matter settled, I hope to see Kate s cheeks once 
 more plump and round and rosy. I hope not only to see 
 them, but to kiss them too. I in not too old to fancy such 
 things, I can tell you. And now, widow, had n t I a right to 
 be a little boisterous ? Ah ! I see that you think me excus 
 able ; but bring me a pipe, and I 11 give you all the particu- 
 } ars over that. I m a little thirsty, too ; for I Ve already 
 told a long story, and have yet a longer one to tell. 
 
 The pipe was produced ; the small three-legged table was 
 placed at his side, to support his elbow ; and Harson, having 
 carefully lighted his pipe, suffered the smoke to eddy about 
 his nose, while he arranged his ideas and cleared his throat; 
 
284 HARRY EARS ON. 
 
 and then he entered into a full and faithful detail of the pro 
 ceedings which had been taken to unmask the villany of 
 Rust, and the various steps and precautions which had 
 finally led to success. 
 
 It was a pleasant sight to see two such persons as Ilarson 
 and his crony, both in the autumn of life, but with the 
 charities of the heart yet green and unwithered, talking and 
 gossipping together, with eyes bright and beaming with 
 mutual admiration ; each fully aware of the foibles of the 
 other, but carefully indulgent to them ; for each knew that 
 the heart of the other was an odd casket, encasing a gem 
 of the noblest kind, from which radiated love, charity, and 
 benevolence to man. Oh Harry, Harry ! how joyously and 
 yet mildly you looked into that widow s dark liquid eyes ; 
 and how gently and confidingly she returned that look! 
 What a risk you both ran ! Had you and she been but a 
 few years younger ; had either of you cherished a whit less 
 tenderly the memory of those who had once been all in all 
 to you, and whose forms were slumbering under the green 
 sod, that widow might have been a wife, and Harry Ilarson 
 no longer a stout, sturdy old bachelor ; for it cannot be de 
 nied that he did become a little animated as he proceeded ; 
 and that he did take the widow s hand in his, and did 
 squeeze it, perhaps with a little too much freedom, and did 
 look into her eyes, as if he loved her with his whole soul 
 and body into the bargain ; nor can it be denied that she 
 was pleased with these tokens of esteem, or love, or friend 
 ship, or whatever else she might have thought them ; for she 
 did not withdraw her hand, and she smiled when he smiled ; 
 and there certainly was a strong sympathy apparent in their 
 looks ; and even when in the fervor of his feelings he held 
 his pipe between his teeth to free the hand which held it, 
 and deliberately squeezed loth of her hands in his, still she 
 
JARRY HARSON. 285 
 
 did not appear embarrassed nor vexed ; and when lie had 
 released it, quietly went on with her sewing, as composedly 
 as if what he had just done was quite usual, and a matter 
 of course. 
 
 And now, Mrs. Chowles, said Harson, as he concluded 
 his narrative ; * upon the strength of our success we are to 
 have a jollification to-morrow at my house ; and we 11 have 
 Dick Holmes there, and Kate^and Ned Somers, and Kate s 
 father. He must make up with Ned then, if not before. 
 lie knows he was wrong, and he must give up. 
 
 But will he? inquired the widow, anxiously. You 
 know Jacob s a wrong-headed old man in some things. 
 Will he ? 
 
 Won t he? ejaculated Harson, with a peculiar wink and 
 nod of satisfaction, as if he were on excellent terms with 
 himself, and understood what he was about perfectly well. 
 I 11 tell you what it is, added he, in a more grave tone ; 
 Jacob has had his own way, or rather Michael Rust s way, 
 in this matter, too long. He shall have it no longer. He 
 shall not break his child s heart. I will not permit it. He 
 took his pipe from his mouth, and slapped his knee eraphat- 
 ically. Have you observed no change in the girl since 
 then ? If you have not, / have. She is still the same 
 devoted, affectionate child to that warped old man that she 
 always was ; but look at her face and form, and listen to her 
 voice. She was once the gayest, merriest little creature that 
 ever lived. It threw sunshine into one s heart only to look 
 at her ; and when she spoke, did you ever hear a bird whose 
 voice was half so joyous ? Poor thing ! when she laughs 
 now, it makes my heart ache. It s like the smile of one 
 dying, when he is trying to whisper hope to those who are 
 weeping over his death-bed. God bless her! and how should 
 it be otherwise ? But no matter ; the worst is past. And 
 
286 HARRY H ARSON. 
 
 now, said he, I must be gone. I came here to tell you the 
 *tory, and to ask you to dine with us ; and between you and 
 me, perhaps you had better come early in the day, and keep 
 an eye over Martha ; for the idea of a dinner-party has quite 
 frightened her ; and there are so many little things to be 
 done, which I know nothing about, and which you under 
 stand, and without which we should have every thing 
 helter-skelter, that you must come, or I 11 never forgive you. 
 Harry made this last menace with so fierce an air, and his 
 mouth pursed up in so ferocious a manner, although his eyes 
 were dancing with fun, that the lady consented at once. 
 
 It s well for you that you did, said Harson, rising and 
 putting on his hat ; * if you had n t, I do n t know what I 
 should have done ; but it would have been something dread 
 ful. I m a terrible fellow when fairly roused. Then shak 
 ing the lady s hand as if he intended to dislocate her shoul 
 der, he put his cane under his arm and went out. 
 
 Ha ! ha ! old Jacob ! you and I must now have a tussle. 
 Ha! ha! exclaimed he, still carrying his cane under his 
 arm, and his hands under his coat tails, you must hear a 
 little of what I think. A few words of wholesome advice 
 will do you no harm, and will rub off the rust that old age 
 has fastened upon you. 
 
 With this hostile resolution upon his tongue, the old man 
 made the best of his way to Rhoneland s house. Jacob was 
 there, dozing in his chair, with his white locks hanging 
 loosely over his shoulders ; and Kate was sitting at his side, 
 engaged in sewing. She was paler than usual ; and there 
 was a nervous restlessness in her manner, which did not 
 escape the quick glance of Harson. He thought, too, that 
 she seemed somewhat thinner than she was wont to be. It 
 might be mere suspicion, but still he thought so. 
 
HARRY HARSON. 287 
 
 It s too bad, muttered he; but I ll set matters right, 
 or my name s not Harry Harson. 
 
 There was something in the hearty greeting of the old 
 fellow, as he took her hands in his and called her his bright- 
 eyed girl, so full of happiness, that it was impossible not to 
 catch the same feeling as he spoke ; and even Jacob, as he 
 felt the cordial grasp of his hand, assured himself, and 
 assumed something like a cheerful smile. 
 
 Well, Kate, said Harson, drawing a chair between her 
 and her father ; * I ve news for you ; and for you too, my 
 old fellow saia ne, turning to Rhoneland ; * we Ve used 
 Rust up 
 
 Jacob stareu. a him, smiled faintly and half doubtfully, 
 and then sank back in his chair without speaking. 
 
 * Do you hear me ? exclaimed Harson, seizing him by the 
 collar and shaking him; do you hear me? Why don t 
 you jump up and hurrah at the downfall of such a scoun 
 drel 1 Ha ! ha ! We ve been on his track for months ; 
 but we ve run him down at last ; and then he made a vir 
 tue of necessity, and told all all about the children, and 
 about you, and about Ned ; all lies, ail lies every word of 
 them. Ned he swore was as honest a fellow as ever lived, 
 or something to that effect. You, he admitted, had com 
 mitted no forgery ; not a word of truth in it ; but all in 
 vented, to force you to consent to his marriage with my own 
 little sweet-heart, Kate. God bless me ! how near I was 
 to losing her! Perhaps you don t know that I intend 
 marrying her myself? Why don t you get up now, and 
 hurrah ? Confound it, I never saw such people in all my 
 life. Hallo ! by Jove ! Kate, quick ! some water! I swear, 
 the old fellow has fainted ! 
 
 As he spoke, Rhoneland s head fell back, and the color 
 forsook his cheeks. Harson caught him, while Kate ran for 
 
288 HARRY H ARSON. 
 
 water and brandy, a small quantity of which being poured 
 into his mouth, soon brought him to himself. Having waited 
 until he was sufficiently composed to listen, Harson com 
 menced from the beginning of his story, and detailed to both 
 of his listeners much that they already knew, and not a little 
 which they had never dreamed of; the causes which had 
 first led to the enmity between Grosket and Rust, and then, 
 step by step, what they had done to detect and bring to 
 light his villany. * Rust manoeuvred well and skilfully, said 
 he, for he was a bold, reckless man, who stuck at nothing, 
 and fought to the last. It is doubtful whether he would 
 not have got the better of us in the ena, naa not a suacien 
 misfortune fallen upon him, which prostrated his energies 
 and broke his hard heart. After that, be wa T$> ^on^er the 
 same man; but confessed every thing, and, among other 
 things, that it had been his intention to become the husband 
 of Kate, to obtain the wealth which he supposed you to 
 possess ; and finding that you were opposed to it, he tried the 
 effect of a display of wealth upon you. This failed. Then 
 he resolved to see what fear could do ; and threatened to 
 have you indicted for forgery ; and admitting that you were 
 innocent, he yet showed so clearly how he could support 
 his charge, and succeed in blasting your character, that you 
 shrank from collision with him : still you would not consent 
 to sacrifice your child, although you dared not give him such 
 an answer as would shut out all hope. There was another 
 obstacle in his way. This was a certain young fellow who, 
 as well as Rust, had an eye on Kate, and whom, perhaps, 
 Kate did not think the worst man in the world. Rust de 
 termined to be rid of him ; so he basely slandered him to 
 you ; and you, not suspecting Rust s veracity, as the know 
 ledge which you already had of his character should have 
 induced you to do, rashly forbade his rival the house ; and, 
 
HARRY H ARSON. 289 
 
 I am sorry to say, added harsh words to the wrong which 
 you were already committing. I need not tell you who that 
 young man was. He came to me shortly afterward, and 
 told ine what had occurred. He s a noble fellow, for not 
 one hard word or epithet did he breathe against you. He 
 said he was aware that for a long time back some person had 
 been endeavoring to poison your mind against him. He had 
 observed it in the gradual change of your manner, and in 
 your avoiding his society. He had hoped, he said, that in 
 time, when you found out that his character was fair and 
 irreproachable, these hard feelings would wear off, and you 
 could again meet as heretofore. But this was not to be. 
 Instead of diminishing, your hostility to him increased, until 
 one day when he was in your own house, you used language 
 to him which left him no alternative but to quit it for ever. 
 The charges which you made against him were very grave, 
 Jacob, and very vile ; and when you made them, you had no 
 right to withhold the name of the person on whose authority 
 you accused him ; but you did ; and although Ned might 
 and did suspect Michael Rust to be the kind friend to 
 whom he owed your ill-will, yet he had no proof of it 
 that would justify him in calling him to account. Ned 
 had a hard task before him ; for the charge you made 
 against him was that of harboring evil thoughts and of 
 cherishing unfair designs against your child. It was a 
 serious charge, and one that he could not refute ; for a 
 man s thoughts are not susceptible of proof; all that he can 
 do in justification, is to point to his past life and say : 
 * Judge by that ; and unless Ned could impeach the character 
 of his traducer, of whom he was then ignorant, he had 
 no alternative but to submit, and to hope that time would 
 exculpate him. Now, Jacob, even supposing Rust had 
 not confessed that the tales which he had told you 
 13 
 
290 HARRY H ARSON. 
 
 respecting Ned were calumnies, is there any thing in 
 Ned s past life to justify the suspicion you have cherished 
 against him? Answer candidly, and you will answer 
 No. Rust s motive was clear enough ; he feared Somers, 
 and wished to drive from you one who might be a 
 friend in time of need, and who might one day stand as a 
 shield between you and his dark purposes. Come, Jacob, 
 Rust has confessed all ; what he did, what his motives 
 were ; and now tell me whether you cannot say, from the 
 bottom of your heart, Ned Somers, I have wronged 
 you?" 
 
 He paused, and looked earnestly at Rhoneland, while 
 every feature glowed with the fervor of his feelings. Come, 
 Jacob, what do you say ? 
 
 There was one other person, too, who leaned forward to 
 catch the reply ; but Rhoneland answered : 
 
 4 She s my only child, and she s very dear to me. It 
 was a cruel suspicion, and perhaps I did act hastily. I will 
 not say that I did not, for I was greatly excited, and said 
 many things that I have since forgotten. But it was better 
 that he should go. Was n t it, Kate ? 
 
 He turned to his daughter, took her hand, and repeated 
 his question : Was n t it better that he should keep away, 
 Kate ? 
 
 Kate s voice trembled as she asked : What harm did he 
 do, father, in coming here ? If his character is fair, why 
 should he not come ? 
 
 Her father eyed her with an uneasy look. In truth, he 
 feared Ned s presence ; for he knew that he loved Kate, and 
 that she reciprocated the feeling; and with the selfishness 
 which old age sometimes brings with it, he was unwilling 
 that she should care for another than himself, or that another 
 should have a claim upon her. At last he replied, rather 
 
HARRY BARS ON. 291 
 
 sharply : The* reason why he should not come is, because i 
 do n t want him. 
 
 Kate drew back, and said not another word ; but Harson 
 saw from her compressed lip that the reply had cut deeply ; 
 and catching her eye, he made a sign to her to leave them. 
 Kate took the hint, and went out ; and Harson, after looking 
 Rhoneland steadily in the face for some time, said : Jacob, 
 you have given your reason why Ned Somers should not 
 come here. It s a very poor one, and not such as I ex 
 pected. Now, I ll give you mine why he should: Kate 
 loves him, and he loves her. 
 
 Jacob knit his brows, but made no reply. 
 
 And let me tell you, too, that unless you do consent, your 
 child will die. I m in earnest. There are some who fall in 
 love, as they call it, a hundred times ; bestowing their affec 
 tions, such as they are, sometimes on one, sometimes on 
 another ; until at last perhaps the owner of a handsome face 
 offers his hand, and gets in return the tattered thing they 
 call their heart. God help me ! this is called love. But 
 thank God, for the credit of human nature, there are others 
 who love as they should purely, nobly, with their whole 
 soul. These love once, and only once ; and woe to the man 
 who unwisely, or for his own selfish ends, crosses them ! 
 The siu of a broken heart too often lies at his door. Jacob, 
 you re an old man ; but you are not too old to have for 
 gotten the wife who once was yours. You loved her well, 
 my dear old fellow, I know it, said he, taking his hand. 
 * She deserved it too. Kate is very like her. What would 
 have been your feelings, had any one stepped in between you 
 and her ? 
 
 Rhoneland grew pale, and the tears came in his eyes. 
 
 Come, come, Jacob, I 11 not press the matter now ; but 
 you must reflect on what I ve said ; and you must not forget 
 
292 HARRY EAR SON. 
 
 how much Kate has at stake. Ned s a glorious fellow, and 
 will make your house very cheery. 
 
 Well, I 11 think of it, 1 replied Rhoneland, after a short 
 pause. 
 
 l Do; that s a good fellow. I ll consider it a personal 
 favor ; and I do think you owe me something for the pains 
 I Ve taken in aiding to get you rid of that rascal Rust. 
 
 * I do indeed owe you much, replied Rhoneland, earnestly, 
 4 and I am sincerely grateful. 
 
 * Well, well, we won t speak of that ; only reflect on what 
 I have just said ; and by the way, added he, rising to go, 
 you must oblige me in another matter. Two or three 
 friends are to dine with me to-morrow ; you and Kate must 
 be of the party. 
 
 We will, was the reply. 
 
 * Good ! Now go up stairs and comfort Kate. 
 
HARRY H ARSON. 293 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 A BRIGHT glowing day was the following one, the day of 
 the dinner-party ; and right gladly did the golden sun beam 
 out from the deep fathomless sky, as if from his lofty look 
 out he were aware of what was going on in this world below, 
 and rejoiced in the failure of the evil machinations which 
 had been so long disturbing the tranquillity of the worthy 
 individuals who have figured in this history. And fortunate 
 it was that neither clouds nor rain obscured his face ; for had 
 the latter been added to the cares which the approaching 
 dinner-party had already accumulated upon the culinary 
 department of Harson s household, the housekeeper in the tall 
 cap with stiff ribbons would have gone stark-mad. Mise 
 rable woman ! how she worked and fumed, and panted and 
 tugged, and kneaded and rolled, and stuffed and seasoned, and 
 skewered and basted and beat, during that day ! From soup 
 to dessert, and from dessert to soup, over and over again, she 
 toiled ; fish, flesh, fowl, vegetables, gravies, were all mingled 
 in her head helter-skelter. She had dreamed of nothing else 
 during the whole of the previous night, excepting a short 
 interlude in the aforesaid dream, when she was night-mared 
 by a fat pig, bestrode by a half-starved boy, who was all 
 eyes. And now, as the day waned and the hour of the din 
 ner approached, her ferment increased, until, to use a meta 
 phor, she had worked herself up into a mental lather. Her 
 voice was in every quarter, and so was her quick, hurried 
 step. She was in the entry, up stairs, in the pantry, in the 
 kitchen, and in the cellar ; at the street-door, giving orders to 
 
294 HARRY EARS ON. 
 
 the grocer s dirty boy to bring the cinnamon and alspice, 
 and not to forget the sugar and butter, and to be sure to 
 recollect the anchovies and pickles. The next moment she 
 was scolding the butcher, because he had come late with the 
 chops and cutlets; and every five minutes she thrust her 
 head into the room to look at the clock, lest Time should 
 steal a march upon her. Eleven, twelve, one, two o clock. 
 The tumult increased. Mrs. Chowles, punctual to her pro 
 mise, made her appearance ; forthwith dived into the kitchen, 
 and did not emerge until dinner-time. The only person 
 utterly unmoved was Harson, who had attended to his part 
 of the business by looking after the wine, and who now sat 
 with his feet to the fire, resolved to trouble his head about 
 nothing, and apparently more asleep than awake. At times, 
 however, he rose and went to one corner of the room, where 
 a small boy, who seemed to be worn down by suffering, lay 
 coiled up and sound asleep on a chair-cushion. The old 
 man bent over him, gently parted the hair from his fore 
 head, and then rising up, somewhat red in the face from the 
 exertion, rubbed his hands one over the other by way of 
 indicating that all was as it should be ; stole back to his seat 
 on tiptoe, lest he should awaken him, and forthwith re 
 lapsed into his former state of dreamy abstraction. Nothing 
 could arouse him ; not even the housekeeper when she 
 dashed into the room with a face at roasting-heat, and de 
 manded the key of the wine-cellar. It was handed to her 
 mechanically, and mechanically pocketed when she brought 
 it back. 
 
 But the hour of dinner drew near ; and a smell began to 
 pervade the house which aroused Harson at last. He sat up 
 in his chair and smacked his lips ; and Spite, who for an undue 
 curiosity as to the contents of a small pasty, exhibited early 
 in the day, had been escorted into the room by the house- 
 
HARRY H ARSON. 295 
 
 keeper, with a broomstick in his suite, sat under the same 
 chair, licking his lips and slavering profusely. 
 
 Again the red face of the housekeeper was projected into 
 the room, and as instantly withdrawn. It wanted half an 
 hour to the time. In and out again ; it wanted twenty-five 
 minutes. In and out again ; twenty minutes. The matter 
 was growing serious, and there was something frantic in her 
 looks. But this time Harson caught her, and told her that 
 it was time to put an end to that performance, as he expect 
 ed his friends every minute ; that she must guess as to the 
 time ; and that he would ring when she was to serve the 
 dinner. 
 
 A rap at the door ! and before it could be answered, a 
 heavy step crossed the ante-chamber. 
 
 There s Frank, said Harson, rising and facing the door ; 
 and in came the Doctor. But he was not alone ; for close 
 behind him followed Ned Somers, dressed in his best. Harry 
 shook hands with them ; but before he had time to do more 
 than that, Jacob Rhoneland entered with Kate on his arm, 
 looking very rosy from her walk. 
 
 What could it be that caused Ned s heart to flounce and 
 dance about as wildly as a caged bird ; and his cheek to 
 grow at first pale, and then burning hot ; and his lips to 
 quiver, and his voice to tremble so that he could scarcely 
 speak, and for a moment was unable even to tell Kate that 
 he was glad to see her ? Whatever the complaint was, it 
 was infectious ; for Kate s heart certainly did beat very rap 
 idly; and her color went and came, until it settled into a 
 deep burning blush, as she turned and saw Ned there, looking 
 at her as if he had eyes for nothing else. 
 
 * Good-morning, Mr. Somers, said she at last, in a tone 
 that was neither firm nor clear. 
 
 Call me Ned, Kate, said he in a low voice ; don t say 
 
296 HARRY HARSOX. 
 
 Mr. Soraers. Won t you shake hands with me ? There can 
 be no harm in that. He extended his hand; she placed 
 hers in it, and at the same time whispered in his ear, (for 
 Harry, seeing that there was some by-play going on, kept 
 Jacob busy,) Speak to father as if nothing had happened. 
 I think he s inclined to make up. Do, Ned. 
 
 Turning from him, she commenced talking to the Doctor, 
 while Somers, after a moment s hesitation, went up to the 
 old man and offered his hand. 
 
 Rhoneland hesitated, for he experienced the reluctance 
 which old age always evinces to succumb to those younger 
 in years ; and it was not very pleasant to admit that his 
 conduct toward Ned had been wrong. But there was some 
 thing in the expression of Ned s face, and even in the 
 way in which he offered his hand, which showed that the 
 past was forgiven.; and besides that, what had already hap 
 pened could not be mended by holding out; so Jacob 
 grasped his hand, and said frankly : 
 
 * Ned, my young friend, I wronged thee sadly. I hope 
 you will pardon it. 
 
 That s right, Jacob ! Spoken like a whole-hearted old 
 fellow, as you are! exclaimed Harson, patting him on the 
 shoulder. To be sure he will forgive you, and thank you 
 for the chance. If he does n t, he s not what I take him to 
 be. Do n t you pardon him ? demanded he, turning to 
 Somers, and at the same time casting a quizzical look in the 
 direction of Kate. 
 
 Ned laughed; said something about pardon being un 
 necessary, where no offence had been taken ; and then com 
 menced talking about indifferent matters. 
 
 Presently Holmes came in ; and after him, Grosket, and 
 one or two cronies of Harson s ; and then the little girl ; so 
 that the room became quite full. The boy too, aroused by 
 
HARRY EARS ON. 297 
 
 the noiwe of talking, awoke ; stared wildly around him, and, 
 though a boy of genteel lineage, evinced a great distaste to 
 mingling in society, and fought manfully to retain his 
 position in the corner, when Harson attempted to lead him 
 out. His sister endeavored, in an undertone, to impress 
 upon him the propriety of adapting his manners to the 
 change in his situation ; but it must be confessed that her 
 success was but indifferent ; and it is a matter of some doubt 
 whether he would ever have emerged, had not a tall, awk 
 ward boy, (a second cousin of the housekeeper, and appren 
 ticed to a tailor,) who had been borrowed to officiate as 
 waiter on this eventful occasion, thrust his head in the door 
 and remarked, * Cousin Martha says you may come to din 
 ner just as quick as you like, and forthwith disappeared, 
 slamming the door after him, and clattering across the entry 
 as if shod with paving-stones. 
 
 This aroused the company ; and this too emboldened the 
 small boy, who, being restrained by his sister from rushing 
 into the room before any one else, nevertheless crowded in, 
 and secured a seat at the table, opposite the best dish. 
 
 What a sight ! A table loaded with fish and flesh and 
 fowl ; glittering and glowing with cleanliness ; linen as white 
 as snow, and plates and dishes that glistened and shone until 
 you could see your face in them, while the steam alone 
 which rose from each of them might have made a lean man 
 fat ; and then, there were the decanters too, in which the 
 ruby wine sparkled, until it made even Dick Holmes smack 
 his lips. 
 
 * Aha ! ejaculated one of the neighbors, a thin, hungry 
 fellow, with large eyes ; aha ! And he snuffed up the 
 dinner as if he intended to appropriate it all, and as if he 
 intended his nose to be the only member destined to play 
 a part there. 
 
 13* 
 
298 HARRY H ARSON. 
 
 Harry paused at the head of his table, and said a 
 short grace ; and then seizing a carving-knife, he plunged 
 it forthwith into the fat saddle; and as he drew the 
 knife along the bone, and cut out the long strips, the 
 stearn and savor filling the room, it was to be feared that 
 the thin neighbor would have gone beside himself, lest 
 his favorite piece should be given to some one else before 
 his turn came. But such a dinner as graced that table 
 is a thing to be eaten, not spoken of; and so thought the 
 small boy, who, notwithstanding his genteel extraction, 
 brought with him the appetite which he had acquired by 
 education. A dreadful havoc he made in that fat saddle ! 
 It was labor lost for his sister to kick and pinch him under 
 the table, in hopes of checking his course. He returned the 
 kicks, but his onward course was unaltered. What eyes 
 he had for the meats and gravies ! what a deaf ear he turned 
 to all invitations to waste his energies on bread and vege 
 tables, or trifles of that sort ! His appetite, though belong 
 ing to a child, was full-grown, and needed no assistance. 
 All that he required was quantity and he got it. 
 
 Help yourself, my son, said Harson, actually growing 
 hungry by seeing the child eat. Do n t spare any thing. 
 
 The boy looked up at him, over a bone which he was 
 picking, and said nothing. 
 
 The first course went off, and so did a second and third. 
 Martha had excelled herself. Every thing was praised ; and 
 at every fresh eulogy, the tall boy darted to the kitchen to 
 communicate the intelligence to his aunt. How he enjoyed 
 that party ! how he skimmed his fingers round the plates, 
 as he took them through the entry ; sucking the ends of 
 them so loudly, that his aunt thought that the corks were 
 flying out of the porter-bottles ! He was perfectly happy. 
 
 It was remarked that, when the dinner was over, some of 
 
HARRY H ARSON. 299 
 
 the guests were uncommonly mellow ; and it_is credibly 
 asserted that Dick Holmes, who had spent his life among 
 parchment and cobwebs, had during the meal buried his 
 mouth in the bosom of his waistcoat, and had there been 
 heard confidentially singing to himself a short song of an 
 Anacreontic character. But be that as it may, when he 
 rose from the table, his eye certainly was not a little lively, 
 and his spirits were high. Nor was there any flagging among 
 the rest; for whether the jests were good or bad, or the 
 songs poor, or the conversation common-place, certain it is, 
 that a more jovial set had never met. Every one seemed to 
 have been placed beside the person who suited him ; Harry 
 sat with Jacob on one side of him, and the widow at the 
 head of the table, with the Doctor at her right hand ; and 
 Dick Holmes and Grosket together ; and Ned and Kate, so 
 close that their elbows touched ; and Annie beside her 
 brother ; and her brother, although somewhat incommoded 
 by his sister, directly opposite the best dish on the table. 
 And then the one or two neighbors, who knew no one ex 
 cept each other, seated in a knot, contrived to grow moist 
 and merry because the others did, and laughed because 
 Harry did. Choice spirits ! who could split their very sides, 
 without a joke to abet them in it ; just the fellows to help 
 out a dinner-party. 
 
 When they separated, it was late at night. The Doctor 
 gallantly volunteered to escort the widow to her abode, 
 which offer was accepted without hesitation. Harry re 
 marked that, as it was a fine night, he thought he would 
 walk too. 
 
 Come, Jacob, you and I will go together, said he, taking 
 the old man by the arm ; and Ned, you look after Kate. 
 No grumbling, but make yourself useful. Saying this, he 
 trudged rapidly on, dragging the old man with him. 
 
300 HARRY H ARSON. 
 
 What passed between him and Jacob, or what took place 
 between Ned and Kate, I cannot say ; but they certainly 
 were the two tardiest people that ever walked ; for long after 
 Harson and Rhoneland had reached the end of their journey, 
 and stood waiting in front of Rhoneland s door, they were 
 not in sight ; and when they did at last appear, it seemed a 
 perfect eternity before they were within calling distance; 
 and then even longer before they reached the door. And 
 although, from the pace at which they had come, it might 
 have been argued that one or the other of them was labor 
 ing under extreme debility or fatigue, yet it was a remark 
 able fact, that the looks of neither justified such a con 
 clusion. 
 
 What idlers you are ! exclaimed Harry, as they came 
 up. As for you, said he, turning to Ned, such a loiterer 
 should be trusted to escort no one unless it were his grand 
 mother, or a rheumatic old lady of seventy. 
 
 Ned Somers laughed, as he answered : We do n t all 
 walk as rapidly as you do. 
 
 * The more shame for you, exclaimed Ilarson. Upon my 
 life ! I believe I m younger than any of you. Look to your 
 self, my lad, or I may take it into my head to cut you out 
 of a wife ; and if you lose her, you won t require the snug 
 little legacy which I intend to leave you when I m under 
 ground. Come ; shake hands with the girl, and bid her 
 good-night : you ve kept her in the street long enough. 
 Good-night, Jacob good-night, Kate. 
 
 He took her hand, and whispered, Be of good heart ; 
 your father is coming round. 
 
 His mouth was very near her ear ; and as he whispered, 
 Ned happened to be looking at them, and thought that the 
 communication did not stop with the whisper ; and Harson 
 himself looked very wickedly up at him, as much as to say 
 
HARRY EARS ON. 301 
 
 Do you see that ? you had better have a sharp eye to 
 your interests ! 
 
 Long and earnest was the conversation which ensued 
 between Harson and Somers on their way home ; and nobly 
 did the character of that old man shine out, as he detailed 
 his future views for his young friend s welfare. 
 
 You need not thank me, said he, in reply to Ned s warm 
 acknowledgments. The best return that I can have will be, 
 to find you always in word and deed such that I may be 
 proud of you ; and hereafter, when I see others looking up 
 to you, and hear you spoken of as one whose character is 
 above all reproach, that I may say to myself: Thank God, 
 I helped to make him what he is. This is all that I want, 
 Ned ; and your future life will be your best acknowledgment, 
 or will prove your heartless ingratitude. Let neither success 
 nor failure tempt you to swerve from what your own heart 
 tells you to be right and fair. Turn out as your schemes 
 may, never forget to keep your motives pure ; and believe 
 me that, come what will, you 11 find an easy conscience a 
 great comforter in the hour of trial. Your father was one 
 of my oldest friends ; a noble, upright man he was ; and it 
 would have wounded him deeply that any one belonging to 
 him should have been otherwise; and it would give me 
 many a heavy hour if his only child did not turn out all 
 that I expected him to be. I am right glad to learn that 
 you are getting bravely on in your business ; and as for this 
 matter with Kate, said he, pausing, for they had come to 
 where their routes separated, it can easily be made right. 
 I love her as my own child ; and I would not have her 
 thwarted for the world. I ll see Jacob again to-morrow; 
 and have no doubt that he will give his consent at last. 
 Perhaps it would be better for you not to present yourself 
 at his house too soon. Work your way back to where you 
 
302 U A R R Y HA RSON. 
 
 were, cautiously, and say nothing to him about marrying 
 Kate, until you and he are on your old terms of good-fellow 
 ship. It won t be long, depend on it. And now, recollect 
 what I told you a few moments ago. If you want any 
 assistance in your business, or if a loan of a thousand or 
 two dollars, or a good word from me, will push you on, you 
 shall have it. Good-night ! And Harson had not gone a 
 hundred yards, before he was whistling so loud that he might 
 have been heard half a mile. 
 
 God help you, Harry ! muttered Somers, looking after 
 the stout, burly figure of his friend; God bless your warm 
 old heart ! What a glorious world this would be, if there 
 were more in it like you ! 
 
HARRY HARSON. 303 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 AT the dead of the night, when all others were at rest* 
 Michael Rust glided out of his office. It was a strange 
 hour, but he had become a strange man. Through the 
 silent streets he stole, with a step so noiseless that it awoke 
 no echo. Along Broadway, passing where the city ended 
 and the fields began, mile after mile he went. He met no 
 one. Every house that he passed was as silent as the grave ; 
 except a solitary one, standing by itself, with a light shining 
 through an upper window, as if some one kept watch at a 
 sick-bed. Sometimes the road ran between high trees, whose 
 skeleton outlines stood grimly up between him and the stars, 
 stiff and motionless. At other times, it coursed along dreary 
 wastes; then again, it was buried in dense shadow; now 
 ascending, now descending. At times he caught a glimpse 
 of the distant gray river, gleaming in the darkness, with 
 here and there the light on board some vessel at anchor, 
 glittering like a star. In some places, where it was shut in 
 by high banks, the road seemed inky black ; and parts of it 
 were so solitary, that even a stout heart might have shrunk 
 from traversing it at that dreary hour. But Rust thought 
 not of fear. What had he to do with that feeling, who 
 sought only revenge and a grave ? 
 
 It was yet night when he reached a house in the upper 
 part of the island, and near the river. Little except its dim 
 outline was visible in the obscurity ; and as he opened the 
 gate, and passed beneath an avenue of tall trees which led 
 to it, the darkness was such that he could scarcely see. But 
 he was familiar with the ground, and without hesitation 
 
304 HARRY H ARSON. 
 
 went directly to the door of the house. It was locked. He 
 drew a key from his pocket, unlocked it, went in, and closed 
 it after him. He groped his way along the hall until he 
 came to the door of a room, which he opened. A few 
 embers were smouldering on the hearth, sufficient to throw 
 out a dim light. Lighting a candle which stood on a table, 
 he drew a chair to the fire and sat down. The chamber 
 was large, fitted up as a library, and filled with massive 
 book-cases of dark wood, elaborately carved, which gave a 
 sombre appearance to the room. Nothing that money could 
 buy had been spared ; for this was the home of Rust s 
 daughter, and that hard, reckless, griping man had been 
 alive but to one feeling love to his child. In her were 
 garnered up all his affections, and upon her he had lavished 
 all that his means could obtain. 
 
 For a long time he sat without changing his position, his 
 eye fixed, his mouth compressed, his brow knit, not a sound 
 escaping him. At last he started from his fit of abstraction, 
 with a slight shiver ; passed his hand once or twice before 
 his eyes, as if to dispel something that clouded his sight ; 
 and said, in a whisper, * Can all this be real ? The clock 
 struck three. He rose, cast a stealthy glance over his 
 shoulder, and taking the candle in his hand, held it up over 
 his head, examining the room with a suspicious look, as if 
 he momentarily expected some form to start from behind 
 the heavy furniture. As his eye was wandering round the 
 room, it rested upon a picture in a carved frame, which 
 hung against the wall. He went to it, and held the light so 
 that its rays fell full upon it. It was the portrait of a girl of 
 about seventeen. Could the child-like, innocent face which 
 gazed out from the canvas upon that fierce, passion-worn 
 man, be that of his child? Could aught so pure and 
 beautiful have sprung from such as him ? And worse than 
 
HARRY H ARSON. 305 
 
 all, could she ,have lost that purity which was stamped on 
 every line of her face ? 
 
 With fixed and rigid features, with a hand that did not 
 tremble, with a heart that scarcely beat, he contemplated 
 the picture ; and then slowly, as if in a dream, replaced the 
 candle, and took his seat. There was that at work within 
 him, however, which banished bodily repose; for in one 
 minute afterward, he was up and pacing the room, muttering 
 and gesticulating to himself; the next, he went to a mirror, 
 and looked at his own face. He started as he did so ; for 
 he had not seen it in a week ; and in that time so altered 
 and wasted had it become, with its long unshorn beard, and 
 ghastly white complexion, that he could scarcely recognize it. 
 
 What a bird of prey the mind is ! muttered he ; how 
 it devours the body ! He turned away, and once more his 
 eye rested on the picture which hung against the wall. 
 Some strange feeling seemed to spring into existence as he 
 did so ; for his breath came thick and hard ; his heart beat, 
 until its pulsations could be heard, loud and strong like the 
 blows of a hammer ; his hand shook ; but at the same time, 
 his brow darkened, and its look of anxious and half-wander 
 ing thought gave place to an expression that was perfectly 
 fiendish. He muttered a few words ; then, taking the light, 
 cautiously opened the door, and stole up the broad flight of 
 stairs which led to the upper story. At the head of it was 
 a door ; he tried it ; it was not locked, but yielded to his 
 push. It opened into a bed-room, luxuriously furnished 
 with mirrors, and various nick-nacks and articles of taste, 
 such as a young and wealthy female gathers about her ; and 
 in the bed lay a beautiful girl, the original of the picture 
 below, sound asleep, her long hair, which had become un 
 bound as she slept, lying in loose tresses upon the pillow. 
 How bright and beautiful she was ! How gentle and calm 
 
306 HARRY HARSON. 
 
 her breathing was! And well might the stern old man, aa 
 he looked at her angel face, have misgivings as to the truth 
 of Grosket s tale. Rust s hard features worked convulsively 
 as he stood over his child, as if powerful feelings were 
 tugging at his heart-strings ; but it was only for a moment, 
 for he choked them down ; and going out, in the cautious 
 manner in which he had entered, he closed the door and 
 descended to the room below. 
 
 He resumed his seat; and although hour after hour 
 elapsed before daylight stole into the room, his attitude 
 remained the same, until a servant came in to light the fire 
 and uttered an exclamation of surprise at seeing him. This 
 aroused him ; and rising hastily, he said, * I m going out. 
 Tell your mistress that I 11 be here at ten o clock. He left 
 the house ; and after wandering up and down the road, he 
 crossed the fields until he came to the edge of the river, 
 and when he had sauntered along it for some time, he sat 
 down upon a rock, and commenced casting pebbles in the 
 water. 
 
 How long a time he passed in this way, he could not tell, 
 but it must have been several hours ; for on looking at his 
 watch, he found that it was late in the day. Suddenly, 
 recollecting his message to his daughter, he rose and went 
 directly to the house. He crossed the lawn in front of it; 
 but before he had time to reach the door, a light figure 
 sprang out, and his child s arms were about his neck. 
 
 * Dear father ! it s a very long time since I saw you ! said 
 she, putting back the hair which hung over his face, and 
 pressing her lips to his cheek. I m very happy at having 
 you here once more. But you are ill very ill ! What 
 ails you ? said she suddenly, as she observed the inroads 
 which the last few days had made in his whole form. Rust 
 
HARRY HARSON. 307 
 
 withdrew from her embrace, and without answering her ques 
 tion, said in a cold tone : * Come in the house. 
 
 Though his words were simple, there was that in his 
 manner (or it might have been the consciousness of guilt on 
 the part of the girl) which caused her cheek to grow pale, 
 and her step to falter; and she accompanied him to the 
 library, with the silent and downcast look of a criminal. He 
 took a chair, drew it to the fire, and pointing to another, said 
 in the same cold tone : Be seated. 
 
 The girl obeyed without a word. At that moment a ser 
 vant opened the door, and told Rust that a man was inquir 
 ing for him. 
 
 Rust got up and went out. In the entry were two men. 
 One of them, a powerfully -built fellow, of about five-and- 
 thirty, with light hair and a prominent eye, asked, Are you 
 Michael Rust ? 
 
 Rust scanned him from head to foot. He suspected his 
 errand, for he had seen him before ; and he replied simply : 
 I am. 
 
 1 Then, Sir, we Ve come for you. At the same time, the 
 man produced a slip of paper, and tapped Rust on the 
 shoulder. Here s the warrant, if you d like to look at it, 
 and the vehicle s in the road there. He gave a nod in the 
 direction. 
 
 Rust evinced neither surprise nor trepidation. He merely 
 said, in a musing tone, I should have stipulated for a longer 
 time, for the lawyer has lost none. Then addressing the 
 officer, he added : * My daughter is in the room. Before 
 going with you, I should like to speak with her in private. 
 You may examine the room, to see that there are no means 
 of escaping from it. 
 
 The man took him at his word ; went in the room ; 
 glanced round without noticing the girl, who regarded him 
 
308 HARRY H ARSON. 
 
 with . some surprise ; then went to an inner door, locked iti, 
 and put the key in his pocket. 
 
 Are you satisfied ? asked Rust. 
 
 The other again stared, round the room : went to the 
 window ; looked out to see how, high it was from the 
 ground ; said that he was, and then inquired : How long ? 
 
 Ten minutes, was the reply. 
 
 * Good ! said the man ; and with a knowing look at Rust, 
 and a shambling bow to the girl, he went out, and seated 
 himself on a chair in the hall, having taken the precaution 
 to send his companion to keep an eye on the windows, 
 which were within leap of the ground. 
 
 Rust returned to his seat. Come hither, Ellen, said he. 
 
 His daughter, rose, and came to him ; but in dead silence. 
 
 Look at me. Am I much altered ? inquired Rust. 
 
 The girl raised her eyes to his. They quailed before his 
 stern, searching glance ; but she replied in a low voice : 
 You re very much altered. 
 
 A smile of strange meaning crossed Rust s face. He 
 turned, and pointed to the picture which hung against the 
 wall. 
 
 * Was that ever a good likeness of you ? asked he. 
 
 His daughter glanced at it, with some surprise at the 
 sudden question, and then replied : * I Ve often been told so, 
 father a very good one. 
 
 * They told you the truth. It was a good one ; and now, 
 said he, turning to her, and fixing his eyes on her face, do 
 you think I am as much changed from what / was, as you 
 are from what you were, when that picture was painted ? 
 Mark it well ! said he, speaking quickly and earnestly, and 
 leaning forward until his face almost touched hers. Look 
 at every feature. See what innocence, what purity of soul 
 and thought is in every line of that face. An angel might 
 
HARRY II ARSON. 309 
 
 have envied its jnnocence. There is a mirror, said he, 
 pointing to the looking-glass ; Now look at yourself. He 
 half rose, and his voice was cold and cutting as he concluded. 
 
 The girl grew red ; then deeper and deeper crimson ; then 
 deadly, ghastly pale ; the perspiration stood upon her fore 
 head, and her eyes were blinded with tears : but she could 
 not meet his glance. 
 
 His voice sank almost to a whisper, as he asked : Then 
 what I have heard is true ? 
 
 The girl seemed absolutely stunned. 
 
 * Be it so. Now you know the cause of my illness. Look 
 at me. Look at this face, scored with wrinkles ; these hollow 
 cheeks, and this frame, broken down by premature old age. 
 Look at them, I say, and you will see but a faint image of 
 the utter, hopeless waste that has been going on in my 
 heart. 
 
 The girl made an attempt to speak ; sank on the floor ; 
 and clasping his knees, pressed her head against them, and 
 sobbed aloud. But Rust moved not. There was no trace 
 of compassion in either tone or manner, as he continued : 
 From your childhood until now, you were the person 
 for whose welfare I toiled. I labored and strove for you ; 
 there was not a thing that I did, not a thought that I ever 
 harbored, which had not your happiness for its aim; and 
 to your love and devotion I looked for my reward; and 
 as I brooded over my own guilty life, blackened as it was 
 with the worst of crimes, I thought that it was some pallia 
 tion to be the parent of one pure and spotless as you were. 
 Well, you turned out as hundreds of others have done, and 
 my labor was lost. I loved you as never child was loved ; 
 and in proportion as my love once was great, so now is iny 
 hate and scorn ! 
 
 Oh ! my God ! gasped the girl. She sank down as if 
 
310 HARRY HARSON. 
 
 crushed. Rust looked at her unmoved, and did not stir to 
 assist her. She raised her hands to him, and said in a sup 
 plicating tone : * Facher ! as you hope for mercy, hear me ! 
 If I received not mercy from my own child, said Rust, 
 sternly, * to whom can I look for it ? I hope for it no where ; 
 I ask for it no where ; I am at bay to the whole world. 
 
 One of those dark, withering expressions which had once 
 been so common to his features, but which his anguish had 
 for the last few days in a great measure banished from them, 
 swept across his face. 
 
 The girl wrung her hands, as she received his harsh 
 answer. At last she said, in a broken voice : Father, I am 
 sadly guilty ; but hear me, for God s sake ; do hear me ! 
 
 At that moment the door was opened, and the officer s 
 head was thrust in. 
 1 Time s up. 
 
 * I must have ten minutes more, said Rust. 
 You can t. 
 
 4 1 must, I will," 1 exclaimed Rust, sternly* 
 He tossed him a dollar, which the man caught in his hand 
 with professional dexterity; and then, with a grin, said: 
 * Well, if you re so very anxious, of course you must be 
 accommodated ; and disappearing, he shut the door. 
 
 You said that you were guilty, resumed Rust, turning to 
 his daughter. I know it. There s but one more so. You 
 know to whom I allude. What is his name ? 
 
 The girl grew very pale, and hung down her head in 
 silence. 
 
 Who is he ? again demanded her father, seizing her arm 
 with a strong grasp. 
 Still she made no reply. 
 
 Be it so, said Rust, flinging her hand from him. * Perhaps 
 silence is best. Now, one other question. Where is he ? * 
 
HARRY EARS ON. 311 
 
 She shook her head, and replied in a scarcely audible tone 
 that she did not know. 
 
 When was he last here ? 
 
 About a week since. 
 
 And when did he promise to return ? 
 
 On the same day, answered the girl, in a low tone. 
 
 And he has not kept that promise. The first of a series 
 of black-hearted lies ! exclaimed Bust, bitterly, speaking 
 more to himself than to her. In these cases, lies come first, 
 and the truth last. He again addressed her: Does he 
 speak of marriage ? and do you urge it upon him ? 
 
 I do, indeed I do ! replied the girl, apparently anxious 
 to hit upon something to conciliate the stern mood of her 
 parent. Often and often I remind him of his promise. 
 
 And what is his answer ? demanded Rust, with a half- 
 mocking smile. 
 
 He says that he cannot marry me just now, but that he 
 will soon. He wishes to obtain the consent of his father, 
 who is very ill, and cannot be spoken to about it ; but that 
 he will soon be better, and that then it will all be settled. 
 
 How long has he been making these excuses ? 
 
 A very long time a very long time, said the girl, sadly : 
 A month and more. 
 
 How often did he come here at first ? 
 
 Every day, said the girl. 
 
 And now ? 
 
 His daughter was silent ; for she began to see the drift of 
 this cold examination, and it sent a chill to her heart. 
 
 Rust was satisfied ; and he said in a half-musing tone : 
 * The same stale, hackneyed story. She is on her way to 
 where the first misstep always leads. Already he is wearied, 
 and wants but an excuse to fling her off ; and I I / 
 
312 HARRY HA RSON. 
 
 her avenger, exclaimed lie with a burst of fierce impatience, 
 / am shackled ; a prisoner, and can do nothing ! 
 
 He mads a hasty step to the door, opened it, and beck 
 oned to the officer to come in. As he did so, he shut it 
 after him, took the man by the arm, and drew him to one 
 end of the room : 
 
 I want a week, said he in a quick tone. * I 11 give a 
 thousand dollars to gain one week ; and at the end of that 
 time will surrender myself a prisoner. 
 
 The man shook his head : * It can t be done, Sir, said he. 
 
 What s the reward offered for my apprehension ? 
 
 A cool five hundred, replied the officer. 
 
 I 11 double it to escape, said Rust, or to gain a week, 
 but a single week. 
 
 The man shook his head. * Too many knows that we re 
 arter you. It would n t do. 
 
 But at the expiration of that time I would surrender 
 myself, and you could secure the reward too. 
 
 The man gave vent to a low chuckle, and placed his 
 finger on the side of his nose, accompanying the motion with 
 a sly expression, signifying an utter disbelief in Rust s pro 
 mises. 
 
 Rust gnawed his lip with fierce impatience ; then taking 
 the man by the arm, he led him into the hall, and shut the 
 door. 
 
 I must speak out, said he, and trust to your honor not 
 to betray me. A villain has seduced my child. I want to 
 find him, and to compel him to make her his wife. Now 
 you know why I ask a week. 
 
 The officer at first whistled, then muttered something 
 about its being a hard case ; but concluded by saying, in a 
 positive tone : It can t be did, Sir : I m sorry for it ; upon 
 my word I am ; but I must keep you now that I Ve got 
 
HARRY EARS ON. 313 
 
 you. I wish you d given me the slip at first ; but I can t 
 let you go now. It s impossible quite. 
 
 Rust eyed the man, as if endeavoring to find in his hard 
 features some loop-hole to his more kindly feelings ; but ap- 
 rently he met with no success. 
 
 * Well, if it can t be done, there s an end of it, said he, 
 abruptly terminating his scrutiny. I Ve some other matters 
 to speak of, and want a few moments more. * I 11 not de 
 tain you long, and will call you when I m ready. 
 
 * I 11 give you all the time I can, said the man, civilly. 
 Rust turned to enter the room, but as he did so he heard 
 
 a quick step behind him ; and looking round, found himself 
 face to face with a young man of two or three and twenty, 
 elegantly dressed, who eyed him carelessly, and then passing 
 him, entered the room with the air of one perfectly at home. 
 A suspicion of who he was flashed across Rust s mind. 
 That he himself was unknown to the other was not strange, 
 for he had been so much absent, and when he visited his 
 child it was at such irregular intervals, and for such short 
 periods, that a person might have been even a frequent 
 visitor at his house, without encountering him. Nor was 
 there any thing in the outward appearance of the slovenly, 
 haggard old man to attract attention. But the indifference 
 of the other was not reciprocated ; for Rust followed him, 
 and closed the door after him, with feverish haste, as if 
 he feared his prey might escape. He observed the deep 
 blush that sprang to the cheek of his daughter at the 
 entrance of the stranger ; her guilty, yet joyous look as he 
 addressed her ; and above all, he perceived his careless, cold, 
 indifferent reply to her warm salutation ; and a feeling of 
 revenge, the deadliest that he had ever felt, sprang up in his 
 heart against that man ; not so much because he had blasted 
 
 14 
 
314 HARRY HARSON. 
 
 the happiness of his child, as because he had torn from him 
 all that he had clung to in life. 
 
 Rust walked to the fire-place, turned his back to it, and 
 without uttering a word, faced the stranger, who eyed him 
 from head to foot with a cool, supercilious stare ; then looked 
 at the girl, as if seeking an explanation. 
 
 The pause, however, was broken by Rust himself, as he 
 pointed with his thin finger to their visitor, and inquired of 
 his daughter : * Is that the man ? 
 
 The girl s face became ghastly pale ; her lips moved, but 
 she dared not raise her eyes ; for she could not encounter 
 the keen, inquiring look which she knew was fixed upon her. 
 
 Answer my question, said he, sternly. This is no time 
 for tampering with my patience. 
 
 His daughter attempted to speak. She trembled from 
 head to foot; but not a word escaped her. So intense was 
 her anguish, that it awoke a spark of better feeling in the 
 young man ; for, confronting Rust, he said in a bold voice : 
 If you have any questions to ask respecting me, address 
 them to me, not to her? 
 
 1 1 will, replied Rust, fixing upon him an eye that fairly 
 glowed ; 4 for you should best know your own character. 
 Are you the cold-blooded scoundrel who, taking advantage 
 of that girl s confiding disposition, of the absence of her 
 father, stole like a thief into his house; by lies, by false 
 oaths, and damning, hypocritical professions of love, won her 
 affection ; blighted her, and then left her what I blush to 
 name ? You wish the question addressed to you ; you have 
 it. I 11 have your reply. 
 
 Withering like a parched leaf ; shrinking as if a serpent 
 were in his path ; with a face which changed from white to 
 red, from red to white, the stranger met these questions. 
 But Rust s eye never left his face. There was no trace of 
 
HARRY II ARSON. 315 
 
 anger nor emption in his marble features. He merely said : 
 I want your answer. 
 
 With a face heavy with guilt ; with a voice that shook 
 even while it assumed a tone of boldness; the stranger 
 demanded : Who are you ? and what right have you to 
 question me thus ? 
 
 Not much right, replied Rust ; * I m not even a rival 
 suitor ; I m only this girl s father. Perhaps you will answer 
 me now. 
 
 The other was silent. Rust turned to his daughter, and 
 said : This man has suddenly become dumb. Is this he of 
 whom we spoke ? An answer I must have, and a true one. 
 Do not add a lie to the infamy which already covers you. 
 
 The girl hesitated, and then uttered something in a voice 
 so low as to be scarcely audible ; but faint as it was, Rust 
 caught the word, l lt is ! 
 
 * It is well, replied he, facing the stranger, and drawing 
 his person up erect. I have no time to waste in words, and 
 will state what I have to say as concisely as possible, and 
 will act as promptly as I speak. This is my only child. 
 She was once unsullied, and I was proud of her : that she is 
 not so now, is your fault. There is but one mode of repair 
 ing what you ve done. Will you marry her ? 
 
 I certainly intend to do so, said the young man, with a 
 guilty look, which gave the lie to his words. 
 
 I want deeds, not intentions] replied Rust. * What you 
 do must be done now before you leave this room. A 
 clergyman resides within a mile. In half an hour he can 
 be here. 
 
 The girl clasped her hands joyfully, and looked eagerly at 
 him ; but there was nothing responsive in the expression of 
 his face ; and he answered : 
 
316 HARRY HARSON. 
 
 1 1 can t see the necessity of this haste ; beside, it would 
 ruin all my prospects. 
 
 You can t see the necessity of this haste! exclaimed 
 Rust, in a voice of thunder. * Ruin your prospects ! What 
 
 has become of her prospects ? What what But no 
 
 matter, added he, choking down a fierce burst of passion, 
 and suddenly assuming a tone so unnaturally calm that it 
 might have been a warning to the other that it was but a 
 lull in the storm. * Michael Rust presents his compliments to 
 his unknown friend, and begs to know if he will do him the 
 honor of marrying, on the spot, his daughter whom he has 
 polluted ? 
 
 He paused for an answer ; his lips were deadly white and 
 quivering, and his eye glowed. The young man quailed 
 before it; but apparently he was only waiting for an oppor 
 tunity to throw off the mask ; for he answered boldly : No, 
 I will not. 
 
 You had better, said Rust, in a low, warning tone. 
 * Think of it again. 
 
 You have my answer, was the reply. 
 
 4 Then take Michael Rust s thanks ! A flash and report 
 followed; and when the smoke cleared away, the seducer 
 was lying on the floor, stone dead. A bullet had passed 
 through his head. The policemen rushed in the room. 
 
 * If I could have had a week, I might have avoided this, 
 said Rust, coldly. As it was, I had no alternative. 
 
 He rang the bell, and a servant came in. He pointed to 
 his daughter, who was lying senseless at his feet. 
 
 * Look to your mistress ! 
 
 Turning to the policemen, who stood by with blanched 
 faces, he said : * Now then, I am ready ! 
 
HARRY EARS ON. 317 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 IN a small room, containing a box-bedstead, a single 
 chair, and a common wooden table, on which was a pitcher 
 of water, sat Michael Rust. The heavy iron bars which 
 grated the windows, and the doors of thick oaken plank, 
 secured by strong bolts of iron, indicated beyond a doubt 
 the nature of his abode a prison. He was sitting on the 
 edge of his bed, with his arms resting on the table, which 
 was drawn close to it, and his head leaning upon them. At 
 times he straightened himself up, looked listlessly about the 
 room, and then resumed his old position. 
 
 A key turned in the door ; the heavy bolt was drawn 
 back, and a head was thrust in. 
 
 * Some one wants to see you. Shall he come in ? 
 
 Yes. 
 
 The head was withdrawn, and the -door being opened, 
 admitted no less a person than Mr. Kornicker, somewhat 
 faded in appearance since we last saw him, but still wearing 
 an air of dashing pretension. He stood at the door, shaking 
 his head, winking to himself, and fumbling in his pocket, 
 evidently in a state of great mental perplexity, probably 
 from his entertaining doubts as to what would be the cha 
 racter of his reception ; or from his being equally uncertain 
 as to the best mode of opening the conversation. Nor was 
 he at all relieved by Rust, who, without moving, fastened his 
 eye upon him with a cold, steadfast stare. 
 
 Kornicker, however, seemed to have fixed upon his course 
 
318 HARRY H ARSON. 
 
 of action at last ; for he walked up to him, and stretching 
 out his hand, said : 
 
 Won t you give us your fist, my old fellow ? You re in 
 trouble, but I ll stand by you to the last. If I don t, 
 damme ! He struck his other hand on the table, and 
 nodded and winked with great vehemence. 
 
 * So there is yet one who has not turned his back on the 
 felon, said Rust, partly addressing Kornicker and partly 
 speaking to himself ; one true man; a rare thing in this 
 world ; a jewel a jewel beyond all price ; and, like all 
 costly stones, found only in the poorest soils ; but, added 
 he, * what have / done to gain friends, or to link one solitary 
 heart to my fortunes ? what ? 
 
 He shook his head ; and although his face was unmoved, 
 and he spoke in the low, half-soliloquizing manner of one 
 who rather brooded over the past than regretted it, yet 
 there was something so sad in his tone, and in his melan 
 choly gesture, that it did more to call forth the warm feel 
 ings of Kornicker than the most eloquent language. 
 
 What have you done ? demanded he, earnestly ; * I 11 
 tell you what you did. When I was at low-water mark } 
 with scarce a rag to my back or a crust to my stomach, 
 and without a prospect of getting one, you took me by the 
 
 hand, and in a d d gentlemanly way gave me a hoist 
 
 out of the gutter. That J s what you did ; and if you did 
 flare up now and then, and haul me over the coals, it was 
 soon over, and soon forgotten. I don t bear malice, old 
 fellow. Is is n t my way ; and as you re in trouble now, if 
 I can help you, I will. Never desert any one : am, unfortu 
 nately, bloody short of cash ; but you can have what I Ve got, 
 and when I get more, you shall have that too. 
 
 As he spoke, he plunged his hand to the bottom of his 
 
HARRY H ARSON. 319 
 
 pocket, drew out a very shabby -looking pocket-book, and 
 deposited it on the table. 
 
 * It is n t much ; but you 11 find it useful here, and you re 
 welcome to it. This is n t the shop where nothing put out at 
 interest produces a heavy income. 
 
 This offer had a powerful effect upon Rust ; and it seemed 
 as if some long-dormant feelings were working their way to 
 the surface from the depths of his heart. He gazed earnestly 
 at his clerk, and once or twice opened his mouth to speak ; 
 but finally he got up, and taking the pocket-book from the 
 table, handed it back to Kornicker, saying : 
 
 I m not in want of money. Gold is but dross now. 
 I Ve plenty of it ; but its value in my eyes is gone. 
 
 But, remonstrated Kornicker, holding his hands behind 
 him, and looking obstinately in another direction, partly to 
 avoid taking the pocket-book and partly to resist the solici 
 tations of his own necessities, which were strenuously urging 
 him to do so, but you may want a lawyer to fight for you 
 at your trial. 
 
 For that farce I am prepared. I have one. He s paid 
 for it, and he 11 fight, said Rust. It will avail nothing, for 
 I did slay the man. It was a cold-blooded, deliberate murder. 
 I planned it ; I went up to that place with the stern determi 
 nation to commit it; and \did commit it. It was no hasty 
 act, done in a moment of fierce and sudden passion ; but a 
 deed duly and deliberately meditated, and one that I would 
 repeat. What he had done, it s useless to mention. I had 
 no redress, except what my own hand could give me. He 
 has paid his forfeit, and I ll pay mine. I ll fight to the 
 last ; because, added he, with that expression of stern pur 
 pose which so often settled on his face, Michael Rust never 
 yields; and then, let the law do its worst. Take your 
 money ; I do n t need it. 
 
320 HARRY HARSON. 
 
 Kornicker hesitated ; and then thrusting it in his pocket, 
 said : I suppose, if you should happen to be short, you 11 
 let me know. 
 
 * I will, replied Rust ; but I Ve enough to last until rny 
 sand is run out. They 11 hang me. 7 
 
 Don t talk so, exclaimed Kornicker, with a feeling not a 
 little akin to fear, at the cold, indifferent manner in which 
 the other spoke. You may escape who knows ? 
 
 Rust looked at him steadily, and then said, in a low, calm 
 voice : If it were not that man and law were leagued against 
 me to force me to my doom, not one dollar would Michael 
 Rust give to add an hour to his life. He looks to the grave 
 only as to that dark abyss which knows neither thought nor 
 care ; where the past is forgotten ; where the future ends. 
 Death is but a deep dreamless sleep, which has no waking. 
 Yet even this boon he will not accept, if it s forced upon 
 him. 
 
 But the disgrace, the disgrace of such an end, exclaimed 
 Mr. Kornicker, twisting .his fingers together, and in his 
 earnestness cracking the knuckles of all of them. Think 
 of that, my old fellow. Think of the stain that will always 
 rest upon your memory. 
 
 A smile, without a trace of pleasure in it, but cold and 
 icy, passed across Rust s face. 
 
 What is my memory to me ? What care I for the 
 whispers and sneers and surmises of the reptiles who crowd 
 this world, and who will soon be as / then shall be ? What 
 are these very men themselves ? Shadows ! shadows ! 
 Go : my course is chosen. You can do nothing for me. 
 
 Still Kornicker did not show any intention of quitting the 
 room, but shifted from one leg to the other, in a fidgety 
 manner, as if he had something farther to communicate, upon 
 
HARRY EARS ON. 321 
 
 which, however, he did not like to venture. At last he 
 said : Your daughter ? 
 
 Rust turned a quick, keen eye on him, but farther than 
 this, evinced no emotion. 
 
 Perhaps she may need a friend, when when 
 
 I m dead, said Rust, concluding what seemed to bo 
 rather an embarrassing sentence to Kornicker. 
 
 I m not exactly the fellow to make the offer, said Kor 
 nicker, adopting the conclusion which Rust had given to the 
 phrase; but but I ll keep an eye on her, and will lend 
 her a helping hand if she gets in trouble. 
 
 Rust s countenance expressed neither pleasure nor anger, 
 as he answered : 
 
 Nothing can be done for her. Her fate is sealed ; her 
 path is marked out. There is neither turn nor winding in 
 it, nor escape from the destiny to which it leads. She has 
 taken the first step in it, and must follow it to the end. 
 Look at the reckless and abandoned of her sex who crowd 
 our thoroughfares at night. Their fate must be her fate ; 
 an outcast then the tenant of a public prison, where her 
 associates will be the thief and the felon. That s her second 
 step. The third is to her coffin : broken down, beggared, 
 perhaps starving, she 11 die surrounded by the ofiscouring of 
 the earth happy if she reaches her grave before she has 
 run her full course. 
 
 There was something in the apathetic manner in which 
 the old man pointed out the future fate of his own child, 
 that actually silenced Kornicker. He knew not what to 
 say. There was no grief to console ; no anger to deprecate ; 
 no wish to be fulfilled. He had, however, come to the 
 prison with his mind made up to do something, and he did 
 not like to be thwarted in his purpose. But before he had 
 fairly determined what course was to be pursued next, Rust 
 
 14* 
 
322 HARRY HARSON. 
 
 interrupted the current of his ideas by saying, as he pressed 
 his hand upon his heart : 
 
 You can do nothing for me. The disease is here; and 
 the only one who can heal it is the great Physician, Death, 
 Could you blot the past from my memory and leave it one 
 vast blank ; could you gild the future with hopes which this 
 heart did not tell me were utterly hollow; then perhaps 
 Michael Rust might struggle on, like thousands of others, 
 with some object in view, always to be striven for, but always 
 receding as he advanced, or turning to ashes in his grasp. 
 But it cannot be. I Ve played my part in the great drama 
 of life, and the curtain will soon fall. 
 
 A spirit of callous indifference pervaded all that he said 
 and did ; and making a gesture to Kornicker, forbidding all 
 farther remark, he threw himself on the bed, and drew the 
 clothes about his head, as if determined to shut out all 
 sound. 
 
 Kornicker made one or two efforts to draw him again into 
 conversation, but the communicative mood was past ; and 
 finding that nothing farther was to be done, he left him. 
 
 From that time Kornicker, true to his maxim of deserting 
 no one, was constant in his visits and endeavors to comfort 
 and assist him in preparing for his trial. But never had 
 man a more arduous task than he found in this self-imposed 
 duty ; for the hidden transactions of Rust s past life had 
 become public, and had turned the full tide of popular- feel 
 ing against him ; and far and wide, through town and 
 country, with all that could excite public animosity, rang 
 that bloody tale, (for the dead man had powerful friends to 
 battle for vengeance.) It was in every mouth, and whis 
 pered in every ear. In the broad glare of day, and before 
 the eyes of the whole world, was paraded every secret of 
 Rust s life. Witnesses who had been forgotten and had sunk 
 
tiARRY H ARSON. 323 
 
 from sight, and were supposed to be dead, sprang into life, 
 all having some dark deed to record. Pamphlets, teeming 
 with exaggerated details of the murder, Avere hawked through 
 the streets ; peddled at every corner ; hung in every shop 
 window. Rust s own black life had prejudged him, and had 
 turned public opinion into public hate, until every voice 
 called out for blood. It was under this feeling that his trial 
 came on. 
 
 Early on that morning, long before the court was opened, 
 a stream of people was thronging toward the City Hall by 
 twenties and thirties and hundreds. The iron gates were 
 barred to keep them out ; still they contrived to get in, and 
 swarmed through the halls. And when the court was 
 opened, officers armed with staves were stationed on the 
 stairs to fight them down, for there was no room for them. 
 The court-room was crammed with men heaped upon men, 
 climbing one on the other ; heads upon heads, swarming like 
 bees, and packed and wedged together, leaving not a foot 
 to spare. And in the midst of all that living mass sat 
 Rust, unmoved, unflinching; returning look for look, de 
 fiance for defiance ; reckless as to his fate, but resolute not 
 to yield. 
 
 There was one, however, at that trial, who was not so in 
 different. He was a man of about fifty, tall and thin, with 
 a grave, dignified face, which yet bore a strong resemblance 
 to that of Rust. He was deadly pale, and sat next to Rust s 
 lawyers, conversing with them in a low, earnest tone, and at 
 times, as the trial went on, suggesting questions to them. 
 This was Rust s brother; the father of the two children. 
 Generous to the last, he had forgiven all, and was battling 
 for the life of one who had done his utmost to blast his. If 
 Rust s cold eye sank, or his spirit quailed, it was only when 
 he encountered the mild, sad eye of that brother. 
 
824 HARRY H ARSON. 
 
 The jury was ernpannelled. The District Attorney opened 
 the case for the prosecution ; and then the examination of 
 witnesses commenced. Foot by foot and inch by inch was 
 the ground contested by Rust s counsel. Exceptions to tes 
 timony were taken, points of law raised, and every informal 
 ity or technicality which afforded a loop-hole for objection 
 was taken advantage of. The day dragged heavily on, and 
 Rust grew weary. The constant stir about him ; the hum 
 of voices, occasionally hushed into silence at the cry of the 
 officer, or the tap of the judge on his desk ; the hot, stifling 
 air of the room ; the wranglings of the lawyers, all tended 
 to bewilder him. All excitement had long since left him. 
 A leaden heaviness had settled upon all his faculties, and, 
 leaning his head upon the table, even while life and death 
 were in the scale, he slept soundly. 
 
 He was aroused by his lawyer touching his arm. lie sat 
 up, and gazed vacantly about him. 
 
 1 Who s that ? said he, pointing to the witness s stand. 
 
 Rust half started to his feet ; then, clasping his hands 
 hard together, sat down, and leaned his head on the table, 
 but said not a word. 
 
 The clerk called out her name. 
 
 Ellen Colton. 
 
 4 Who is she ? demanded the lawyer. 
 
 Rust drew himself up ; and many who had been watching 
 him, observed that his face had become perfectly corpse- 
 like ; his breathing oppressed ; and that his eyes seemed 
 starting from their sockets, as he fixed them on the witness. 
 
 * My own flesh and blood ! muttered he ; my own 
 child ! 
 
 The girl was sworn ; but it was evident that a terrible 
 struggle was going on, and she had to be supported to a 
 chair. The lawyer for the prosecution took down her name, 
 
HARRY H ARSON. 325 
 
 and then asked her a question. He received no answer. 
 He repeated it ; but the girl was silent. She held down her 
 head, and seemed half fainting. 
 
 You must reply, said the judge. 
 
 The girl raised her eyes, and said, in a low supplicating 
 tone, He s my father. 
 
 The judge shook his head. It s a very painful task, 
 said he, but there s no alternative. 
 
 The girl uttered not a word, and the court-room became 
 so hushed that even the hard breathing of the witness was 
 audible. 
 
 I must have an answer, said the judge, gravely, yet 
 mildly, for he respected the feelings which dictated her 
 course. Will you answer the question put by the District 
 Attorney ? 
 
 I will not, was the firm reply. 
 
 The face of the judge grew a little flushed, and he com 
 pressed his lips, as if the duty which now rested with him 
 were an unpleasant one. But before he had time to speak, 
 the District Attorney rose, and muttering in a tone loud 
 enough to be heard, I will not slay the parent through the 
 child, said : If the Court please, I withdraw the question. 
 I 11 call another witness. 
 
 The judge bowed, and the girl was led away. 
 
 Rust had risen to his feet as if to speak, but he sat down, 
 and the trial proceeded. The whole of that day passed in 
 the examination of witnesses ; so did the day following. 
 Then came the summing up of the lawyers, and the charge 
 of the judge to the jury. During the whole time, the crowd 
 came and went, but at all times the room was thronged. 
 The jury went out ; still the crowd hung about the Hall. It 
 grew dark ; but they could not go to their homes until they 
 knew the result ; but round and round the Hall, and through 
 
326 HA RRY HA RSO N. 
 
 the avenues of the Park, they wandered, watching the dim 
 light in the jury-room, and wondering what the verdict would 
 be. One of them stole up to the gray-headed officer who 
 watched at the door, and inquired what the chance was ; 
 and as the old man shook his head, and muttered that they 
 leaned toward a fatal verdict, he rubbed his hands with glee, 
 and hastened to communicate the tidings to those below. 
 Twelve one two three o clock at night came; still 
 the twelve men held out, and still the judge, an upright, 
 conscientious, patient man, maintained his post, waiting for 
 the verdict, and ready to solve any doubts or points of law 
 that might arise. The court-room grew cold ; the fires went 
 out, except one near the bench, and where the prisoner 
 was. Sixty or seventy persons sat in the dim recesses of 
 the room, looking like dark shadows, resolved to await the 
 result. A few stretched themselves on the benches, and 
 others gathered in knots near the fire, and whispered 
 together ; and now and then there was a loud laugh, sud 
 denly hushed, as the person who uttered it remembered 
 where he was. At last the judge went out, and left word 
 with the officer to send for him if the jury agreed, or wanted 
 his advice. The night waned ; the sky grew gray in the 
 east; and presently the day broke but no verdict. At an 
 early hour the judge returned, and the court-room filled 
 again. Nine ten eleven. Suddenly there was a hum 
 a shuffling in the hall. The door was thrown open by the 
 gray-headed constable, and the jury entered. 
 
 4 The jury s agreed, cried the officer. There was a dead 
 silence among the crowd while the jury took their places, 
 before the clerk called for their verdict. Then the foreman 
 gave in the verdict : 
 
 GUILTY OF MURDER IN THE FIRST DEGREE ! 
 
 Rust moved not ; no change of color or feature was per- 
 
HARRY HARSON. 327 
 
 ceptible, except a slight smile, and that too faded in a 
 moment. 
 
 The trial was over; and the crowd poured out of the 
 Hall and through the streets, yelling with delight, and stop 
 ping those whom they met, to tell them that Michael Rust 
 was doomed to die. 
 
 Rust sat without stirring, until an officer touched him, 
 and told him that he must go. He then rose, and followed 
 him without a word. The crowd gathered around him, as 
 he went out; but he did not notice them. His brother 
 walked at his side, but he heeded him not ; and when he 
 reached his prison, without uttering a word, he flung himself 
 wearily upon his bed, and was soon sound asleep. 
 
 He awoke, a different man ; and when his lawyer called 
 to see him on the following day, he found him as fierce 
 as a caged beast. He endeavored to utter some remark of 
 consolation ; but Rust impatiently bade him to be silent. 
 He spoke about a clergyman ; but the reply was a laugh so 
 mocking and scornful, that he was glad to drop the theme. 
 
 Is the game ended ? at last inquired Rust. Is there 
 no farther cast of the die left ? 
 
 The lawyer looked at him, as if in doubt of his meaning. 
 
 Rust, in response to the look, repeated the question. Is 
 there nothing more to be done, in that farce called the law ? 
 Is there no farther blow to be struck for life ? 
 
 * We can appeal, replied the lawyer ; * but there is little 
 chance of success. He took Rust by the hand, and said in 
 a soothing tone : My poor friend, you must be prepared for 
 the worst ; for I cannot promise to save your life. 
 
 Rust rose and stood directly in front of him ; and pointing 
 to a small coin which lay on the table, said : Not the tenth 
 part of that would Michael Rust give to have one hour 
 added to his life ; but I will not be driven from it. I will 
 
328 HARRY II ARSON. 
 
 not be beaten down and crushed ! He stamped furiously on 
 the floor. 
 
 Fight ! said he, fixing his glaring eye on the lawyer ; 
 fight to the last; leave nothing untried; spare not gold; 
 bribe corrupt suborn ; do any thing ; but do not leave 
 the triumph to my enemies. It s that that is tearing away 
 at my heart. It s that which is killing me, exclaimed he, 
 bitterly, shaking his hands over his head. 
 
 We shall leave nothing untried, said the lawyer. Per 
 haps too we may obtain a pardon ; for if ever a murder was 
 justifiable, that was. 
 
 Pardon ! exclaimed Rust with a sneer ; pardon ! Be 
 cause I defended my own flesh and blood ; because the laws 
 had forced upon me the task which they should perform, I 
 must die, or sue for pardon ! A noble thing is law ! 
 
 The lawyer was silent. He felt that Rust s own previous 
 criminal life had been his worst enemy, and that it was the 
 disclosure of his own evil plans, which had been in every 
 mouth long before the trial, that had done much to harden 
 the feelings of the jury, who in another case might have 
 stretched a point to save him. 
 
 Merely repeating what he had already said, that every 
 thing should be tried, he took his leave. 
 
 Some time had elapsed. The appeal was made, and was 
 unsuccessful ; the decision of the court was affirmed ; and 
 nothing was left but that the sentence of the law should be 
 enforced. Rust still maintained his indifferent bearing. All 
 attempts to move him to any thing like repentance were 
 unavailing. Pious men had conversed with him, but he had 
 turned a deaf ear to their words ; clergymen, anxious even 
 at the last hour to turn his thoughts to holier things, had 
 
HARRY HARSON. 329 
 
 called upon him, but were equally unsuccessful ; and at last 
 he forbade them admission. 
 
 It was just about dusk, on the day previous to that fixed 
 for his execution, that he was sitting in his cell, when he 
 was aroused by the opening of the door. He looked up, and 
 observed a dim figure just inside the door, cowering as if with 
 fear ; but it was so dark that he could not distinguish more 
 than its mere outline. 
 
 What do you want ? demanded he, harshly. Am I a 
 wild beast, that you have come to stare at me? 
 
 The only reply was a low, suppressed cry, as of one en 
 deavoring to stifle down severe pain. 
 
 Rust rose up, advanced to the figure, and with a sudden 
 jerk threw off the cloak which enveloped it. It was his own 
 child. 
 
 * So it s you ! said he, bitterly, as he turned from her. 
 And you ve come to see your work. Look at me well. 
 You Ve succeeded to your heart s content. 
 
 The girl endeavored to clasp his hand, but he flung her 
 from him ; and facing her, said : What you have to say, 
 say at once, and be gone. There is little policy in seeking 
 me out now, for I have nothing to give. 
 
 The girl cast herself at his feet, in a passion of grief. Oh ! 
 father ! dear father ! I ask nothing except your forgiveness. 
 Give me that, for the love of God ! I ask nothing more. 
 Do not refuse me that, as you hope for forgiveness of your 
 own sins ! 
 
 * There was a time, said Rust, when I could not have 
 resisted those tones ; when I could have refused you nothing. 
 My very heart s blood was yours; but I am changed 
 changed indeed ; since not a single spark of tenderness for 
 you is left ; not even the shadow of the love which I once 
 bore to you. You are a stranger to me ; or, worse than that, 
 
330 HARRY EARS ON. 
 
 you are she whose wanton conduct has placed me here, and 
 to-morrow will lead me to the gallows. 7 
 
 The girl rose up hastily, and said in a quick, husky voice : 
 
 * Farewell, father ; I will not stay until you curse me, for 
 I fear it may come to that. May God forgive both you and 
 me ! I have done wrong, and most bitterly have I suffered 
 for it. 
 
 She caught his hand, pressed it to her lips, which were 
 hot as fire, and left the cell. 
 
 That was the last time that the father and daughter ever 
 met. But was it fancy? did the lip of that hard man 
 tremble, and was that a tear that he brushed from his eye, 
 as he bent his head forward and listened to the receding 
 footsteps of his child ? 
 
 The gaoler soon afterward brought in a light, and asked 
 Kust if he wanted any thing ; and on being answered in the 
 negative, went out. 
 
 The night wore on heavily. Rust heard the clock, as its 
 iron tongue struck the successive hours from his life. At 
 last the hour of midnight sounded. He took out his watch 
 wound it up, and set it. 
 
 Your life will last longer than mine, said he, as he held 
 it to the light, and examined the face. He then placed it 
 on the table, and leaning his head on his hand, contemplated 
 it for a long time. Time was hurrying on ; for while he was 
 sitting thus, the clock struck one. He looked about the 
 room; went to the door, and listened; then resumed his 
 seat, and thrusting his hand in his bosom, drew out a small 
 vial, containing a dark liquid. He held it to the light ; 
 shook it ; smiled ; and applying it to his lips, swallowed its 
 contents. 
 
 * I 11 disappoint the sight-seers, said he. He raised the 
 light ; took a long and earnest survey of the room ; undressed 
 
HARRY H ARSON. 331 
 
 himself; sat on the edge of his bed for a moment, apparently 
 in deep thought; then got into bed and drew the cover 
 closely about him. 
 
 Now, then, said he, the dream of life is past. I 11 soon 
 know whether there is any waking from it. 
 
 These were his last words ; for when the cell was opened 
 in the morning, he was dead in his bed. As in life, so in 
 death, his own evil acts clashed with his interests ; for at an 
 early hour in the morning a messenger arrived with a par 
 don. In consideration of the heinous nature of the provoca 
 tion which had led to the commission of Rust s crime, and 
 of the inadequate punishment inflicted by the laws for such 
 offences, the Governor had remitted his sentence. 
 
332 HARRY II ARSON. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 ON the day but one after Rust s death, Mr. Kornicker was 
 very busy in his office. His coat was off; his hat was on a 
 chair, and in it was his snuff-box, a black silk neckcloth, and 
 a white handkerchief, not a little discolored by the presence 
 of snuff and the absence of water. In one corner of the room 
 lay a confused heap, consisting of bed, bedding, and various 
 odds and ends o f wearing apparel ; and from these Mr. Kor 
 nicker, after due reflection and calculation as to the order in 
 which to make his choice, selected article after article. First, 
 he spread upon the floor his counterpane, then his blanket, 
 then a sheet not a little akin in appearance to his handker 
 chief, and then his bed : upon these he piled his apparel, in 
 a confused heap, and proceeded to roll the whole into a large 
 ball, which he secured with a piece of rope. Now then, the 
 moving s begun, said he, opening the door and rolling the 
 bundle into the entry. The premises are ready for the next 
 tenant. 
 
 Having brushed his knees with the palm of his hands, and 
 dusted his hands by knocking them together, he put on his 
 neckcloth, coat, and hat ; pocketed his snuff-box and hand 
 kerchief, walked into the entry, locked the door, put the key 
 over it, as he had always been in the habit of doing ; seated 
 himself upon his bundle, with his back leaning against the 
 wall ; and immediately lapsed into a fit of deep abstraction, 
 which he occasionally relieved by kicking his heels against 
 the floor, shaking his head in a sudden and emphatic man 
 ner, or inhaling his breath rapid y and violently, producing 
 a sound blending the qualities of a snort and a whistle. 
 
HARRY H ARSON. 333 
 
 So, said he, at length rousing himself from his abstrac 
 tion, at the same time nodding his head at Rust s office, * his 
 cake being dough, our bargain s up ; and here am I, Edward 
 Kornicker, Esquire, attorney and counsellor-at-law, a man of 
 profound experience, severe knowledge of the world, of great 
 capacity in various ways, though of small means I think I 
 may say of d d small means once more in the mar 
 ket ; for sale to the highest bidder. Such a valuable com 
 modity is not to be met with every day. If any gentleman, 
 continued he, raising his hand and looking around at an 
 imaginary audience, is extremely desirous of securing the 
 eminent talents of one of the most prominent young men of 
 the day not exactly new, added he, running his eye over 
 his rusty coat, * but wonderfully serviceable ; no cracks nor 
 flaws, no pieces broken off here is an opportunity which 
 will not occur again. This is only a scratch on the surface, 
 said he, as he thrust his finger into a small hole in his coat- 
 sleeve ; the article itself is warranted to be perfectly sound, 
 and of the best quality. How much is bid ? how much for 
 the promising young man aforesaid ? How much ? One 
 thousand dollars ? Five hundred ? Two fifty ? one ? 
 fifty ? It won t do, said he, in a melancholy tone ; strike 
 him down to me. The gentleman s bought himself in ; 
 there being no demand for the article in this market, he 
 thinks of disposing of himself to some respectable widow lady 
 with a small family and a large purse. He may alter his 
 mind, but that s his present intention. 
 
 Here Mr. Kornicker concluded his rather extraordinary 
 soliloquy bv plunging his hands in his pockets, and dropping 
 into a subdued whistle ; in the course of which his thoughts 
 seemed to have taken altogether a different channel ; for it 
 was not long before he said, as if in continuance of some 
 unuttered train of thought : 
 
334 HARRY HARSON. 
 
 1 Well, old fellow, I promised you to look after your girl, 
 although you did n t seem much struck with the offer. But 
 I 11 stick to my promise ; although, to tell the truth, I do n t 
 exactly know how to commence. But nothing will be done 
 by sitting on this bundle. So I 11 to my work at once. 
 
 He rose up hastily, and was descending the stairs, when he 
 abruptly turned back, went up to his luggage, and after eye 
 ing it for a minute, said : 
 
 It s a hazardous business to leave you here. You can t 
 be distrained on, nor levied on, because you re exempt by 
 law. So you are safe from landlords and creditors ; the law 
 makes you exempt from being stolen too ; but thieves con 
 sider themselves, like members of parliament, out of the reach 
 of law. There s the rub. You might be stolen ; and I very 
 much regret to say, that the gentleman who should lay vio 
 lent hands on you would walk off with all my goods, chattels, 
 lands, tenements, and hereditaments ; but I Ve no where to 
 put you, and as I expect to sleep in this entry, you must 
 take your chance. So, good-bye, old acquaintance, in case 
 you and I should never meet again. 
 
 Having in a very grave manner shaken one corner of the 
 counterpane, as if it were the hand of an old friend, he gave 
 his head a sudden jerk, to settle his hat in the right place, 
 and descended the stairs. 
 
 The task which Kornicker had imposed upon himself was 
 by no means easy ; but, firm in his purpose of fulfilling his 
 promise, he shut his eyes to all difficulties, and commenced 
 his pursuit. 
 
 The first place to which he went was the prison, for he 
 hoped that the keeper of it might know something about her, 
 or that she might have left her address there, in case her 
 father wished to see her when he was imprisoned. But he 
 was disappointed. They could tell him nothing, except that 
 
HARRY EARS ON. 335 
 
 Rust neither asked for her nor mentioned her, and had 
 always refused to see her. She had never succeeded in gain 
 ing admittance to him, except on the night of his death, when 
 the gaoler, a fellow unfit for his office, for he had some human 
 feeling left, unable to resist her tears and entreaties, had let 
 her in unannounced, as mentioned in the last chapter. She 
 had left the cell abruptly, had hurried off, and had never re. 
 turned. God help the poor child ! exclaimed the man as 
 he told the story. Such hearts as hers were made for 
 heaven, not for this world. I have a daughter of her age ; 
 and even if she had robbed a church, I could n t have treated 
 her as that man treated his child. 
 
 The man looked at Kornicker, to observe the effect 
 of his last remark ; but probably that gentleman viewed the 
 robbing of a church in a less heinous light than the gaoler, 
 for he made no comment on it, but after a pause said : 
 
 So that s all you know? 
 
 The man nodded. 
 
 Good-morning to you, Sir, said Kornicker ; and he 
 walked straight out of the building, and had crossed several 
 streets before he had made up his mind what to do next. 
 This however was soon settled, and he buttoned his coat 
 tightly, and pulled his hat firmly on his head, drew on a pair 
 of shabby gloves, and performed a number of those little acts 
 which in ancient times were known under the head of * gird 
 ing up his loins, preparatory to setting out for his next point 
 of destination, which was the girl s former home, the place 
 where Rust had committed the murder. It was many miles 
 off ; and the distance which Rust, under the whip and spur 
 of fierce passions, had traversed without trace of fatigue, drew 
 from his clerk many a sigh, and many an expression of 
 weariness. 
 
 When he got there, he found the house deserted. He 
 
336 HARRY HA R SON. 
 
 entered it, for there was no one there to hinder it, but the 
 rooms were empty and dismantled. The house had been 
 hired by Rust, and no sooner was he in the gripe of the law, 
 than creditors innumerable, who like birds of prey were 
 biding their time, kept in check by the unbending character 
 of their debtor, came flitting in from every quarter ; seized 
 and sold the furniture, and left the house desolate. A single 
 dark stain upon the library floor, where the murdered man 
 had fallen, was all that was left to tell a tale of the past. 
 The dust had gathered thickly on the walls, as if preparing 
 to commence a slumber of years ; and as Kornicker went 
 out, the rats scampered through the hall, startled at the 
 tread of a stranger. 
 
 With a heart as heavy as his limbs, as he thought of the 
 past life of the girl who had once tenanted this house, and 
 then fancied what her present fate must be, Kornicker set 
 out on his return. * If it had been me, said he, pausing to 
 take a last look at the lonely house ; * if it had only been 
 Edward Kornicker who was thus cast adrift, to kick his way 
 through the world with empty pockets, and without a sou, 
 to say to him God-speed, or I m sorry for you, it would 
 have been right and proper, and no one would have any 
 cause to grumble or find fault ; but this being a girl, with 
 no money, and consequently with no friends, no experience 
 as / have, it s a very hard case a very hard case, indeed. 
 
 Having arrived at this conclusion, Kornicker took off his 
 hat, wiped his forehead, snuffed, and set out on his return. 
 
 Day after day for several weeks he prosecuted his inqui 
 ries without success ; and just when he was in despair, 
 chance led him to success. In the course of his rambles, he 
 encountered a person who had been at Rust s trial, and hap 
 pened to speak about him ; for now that the criminal was 
 dead and in his grave, when public opinion could be of no 
 
HARRY H ARSON. 337 
 
 service to him, many who had hunted him down began to 
 view less harshly the crime which had led to his death ; and 
 this man was one of the number. He said that, although 
 he deserved punishment for his previous evil deeds, yet the 
 best and purest act of his life had been that by which he 
 had struck down the destroyer of his child. 
 
 Poor thing ! said he, she must have led a miserable 
 life since her father s death. I have met her several times 
 since then in the street, but that was several weeks ago; 
 and then she was very feeble, scarcely able to walk : perhaps 
 she s dead now. 
 
 Kornicker waited only long enough to ascertain that she 
 lived in a certain out-of-the-way part of the town, which the 
 man designated, and thither he directed his steps, and 
 resumed his search ; and after several days spent in fruitless 
 inquiries, he discovered her. 
 
 The house in which he found her was a small ruinous 
 building, sagged and jutting forward, as if struggling tc 
 sustain itself against time and dilapidation. The windows 
 were broken ; the doors and shutters unhung, except a soli 
 tary one of the latter, which creaked as it flapped to and 
 fro in the wind ; and this was the home of Rust s child. 
 
 Kornicker ascended the rickety stairs, and paused at the 
 door of a room which a slipshod woman had pointed out as 
 that of the murderer s daughter. He knocked, but there 
 was no reply ; he knocked again, but all was silent. Then 
 he opened the door and looked in. 
 
 It was a small, dingy room, unfurnished, with the excep 
 tion of a bed on the floor, and a single chair, on which stood 
 a candle whose flaring light served only to add to the gloom 
 of the room by revealing its wretchedness. The girl was in 
 bed; her hair lying in tangled masses about the pillow. 
 Her cheeks were sunken and colorless, and her eyes deep-set 
 16 
 
338 HARRY HARSON. 
 
 and glowing, as if all Ilint was left of life was concentrated 
 in them. 
 
 Kornicker hesitated for a moment, and then pushed the 
 door open and walked in. The girl looked listlessly up, buf 
 did not notice him ; for she turned her head away with f 
 weary, restless motion, and did not speak. Kornicker wenl 
 to the bed, got on his knees beside it, and took her hand in 
 his. As he did so, he observed that it was very thin and 
 shrunken, and that the large veins stood out like cords. It 
 was hot as fire. You re very ill, said he, in a low tone. 
 I m afraid you Ve very ill. 
 
 I m dying of thirst, said the girl, pointing to an empty 
 pitcher which stood on the floor. Give me water ; the 
 want of it is driving me mad. No one has been near me 
 to-day. I tried to get it myself, but could not stand. 
 
 Kornicker waited to hear no more, but seizing the pitcher, 
 darted out to a pump, and in a very few minutes came back 
 again with it filled to the brim. The girl s eye grew even 
 more lustrous than before as she saw it, and she attempted 
 to rise, but was unable. 
 
 You must excuse ceremony, said Kornicker, as he placed 
 his arm under her back and supported her while he held the 
 pitcher to her lips. Nursing is n t in my line. 
 
 The girl swallowed the water greedily, and then sank back 
 on the pillow exhausted. 
 
 Have you a doctor? inquired Kornicker, placing the 
 pitcher on the floor. 
 
 * No, answered she feebly ; * I have no money ; the last 
 went yesterday. I m deserted by all now. 
 
 * Not quite, exclaimed Kornicker, slapping his hand earn 
 estly on his knee, while he experienced a choking sensation 
 about the throat ; not while I m left. I m sorry I a n t a 
 woman, for your sake ; but as I do n t happen to be, I hope 
 
HARRY H ARSON. 339 
 
 you 11 make no objections on that score ; I 11 look after you 
 as if you were my own sister. 
 
 It was the first word of kindness that the girl had heard 
 for a long time, and the tears came in her eyes. 
 
 There, there, do n t cry, said Kornicker. It bothers me 5 
 I do n t know what to do when women cry. But you have n t 
 a doctor ; that will never do. Keep up your heart, said he, 
 rising; I ll return presently. Saying this, and without 
 waiting for a reply, he left the room. 
 
 Arriving in the street, his first impulse was not only to 
 feel in his pockets, but with the utmost care to turn them 
 inside out, and to examine them narrowly. 
 
 Not a copper pockets to let ! said he, restoring them 
 to their former condition, after a long and unsuccessful search. 
 * But this girl must be looked after ; that s settled. Now 
 then, said he, in a very meditative mood, who s able to do 
 it, and will ? 
 
 This seemed a question not easily answered, for he stood 
 for more than a minute in profound thought, in endeavoring 
 to solve it ; but apparently making up his mind, he hurried 
 along the street. The direction which he took was toward 
 the upper part of the city, and he was some time in reaching 
 his destination, which was no other than Harry Harson s 
 house. He crossed the court-yard and knocked at the door, 
 which was opened by Harson. 
 
 I want a word with you, said Kornicker, abruptly. 
 
 Harson told him to come in ; led the way to his sitting- 
 room, and pointing to a chair, told him to be seated. 
 
 I have n t time, said Kornicker, shaking his head. Do 
 you know me ? 
 
 I ve seen you, but I can t recollect where. 
 
 Here? said Kornicker, * here, in this room. I breakfasted 
 here. I m Michael Rust s clerk. 
 
340 HARRY H ARSON. 
 
 Then you can scarcely expect a cordial reception from 
 me] said Harson, coldly. 
 
 I do n t care what sort of a reception you give me? 
 replied Kornicker ; you may kick me, if it will be any com 
 fort to you, provided you only do what I ask. Michael 
 Rust is dead, and his daughter is now dying, with scarcely 
 clothes to cover her, or a- bed to lie in ; without a cent to 
 buy her food or medicine ; without a soul to say a single 
 word of comfort to her. I would n t have troubled you, old 
 fellow, continued he, with some warmth, at the same time 
 turning out his pockets, if I had a cent to give her. The 
 last I had I spent in getting a breakfast this morning ; and 
 although it s the only meal I Ve eaten to-day, damme if I 
 would have touched it if I had thought to have found her 
 in such circumstances. But since you won t help her, you 
 may let it alone ; I m not so hard run but that I can do 
 something for her yet. 
 
 Kornicker had worked himself up into such an excite 
 ment, owing to Harson s cold reception of him, that he took 
 it for granted his request was to be refused ; and having 
 thus vented his feelings, he turned on his heel to go, when 
 the old man laid his hand on his shoulder. 
 
 Nature puts noble hearts in very rough cases, said 
 Harson, his eyes glistening as he spoke. * You re a good 
 fellow, but rather hasty. I did n t say I would not assist the 
 poor girl ; on the contrary, you shall see that I will. She 
 has no doctor ? 
 
 No. 
 
 No nurse ? 
 
 4 No. 
 
 Harson rang the bell. The housekeeper answered it. 
 
 Martha, put on your hat and cloak, said Harson ; I want 
 you to sit up with a sick person to-night. Bring a basket, 
 
HARRY HARSON. 341 
 
 and lights, and cups, and every thing that s necessary for one 
 who has nothing. I 11 return in five minutes ; you must be 
 ready by that time. Now then, Sir, come along. 
 
 He went into the street, and walked rapidly on, turning 
 one or two corners, but without going far, and at last knocked 
 at the door of a small house. 
 
 A very excellent fellow lives here, said he to Kornicker ; 
 * he s a doctor ; and if this girl can be saved, he 11 do it. 
 Hark ! there he comes. I hear his step. 
 
 The door was opened by the Doctor himself, and a few 
 words sufficed to explain matters to him. 
 
 I 11 be ready in a minute, said he, darting into the house 
 and as suddenly returning, struggling his way into the arms 
 of a great-coat. Now then, exclaimed he, buttoning a 
 single button, and dashing into the street, * which way ? 
 
 Where does she live? asked Harson. I ll go back 
 and bring the nurse. 
 
 Kornicker told him, and was hurrying off, when Harson 
 touched his arm, and leading him a few steps aside, said in 
 a low voice : You seem somewhat straitened for money, Mr. 
 Kornicker ; I wish you would accept a loan from me. He 
 extended a bank-note to him. 
 
 Kornicker buttoned his pockets up very closely, not 
 omitting a single button, and then replied coldly: I ask 
 charity for others, not for myself. 
 
 Come, come, said Harson kindly, you mustn t bear 
 malice. I did not act well toward you at first ; you must 
 forget it ; and to show that you do so, you must take this 
 loan from me. 
 
 I don t wish to borrow, replied Kornicker. 
 
 Well, I m sorry for it, said Harson, taking his hand; 
 but you re not angry ? 
 
342 HARRY If ARSON. 
 
 No, no, old fellow ; it s not an easy matter to keep angry 
 with you ; you re a trump ! 
 
 * Perhaps you 11 sup with me when we return ? said the 
 old man, earnestly. 
 
 I 11 see how the girl is, replied Kornicker ; good-bye. 
 We re losing time. 
 
 Saying this, he shook hands with Harson, and joining the 
 Doctor, they set out at a rapid pace for the girl s abode. 
 
 They reached it without interruption, other than a short 
 delay on the part of the Doctor, who, being of a belligerent 
 disposition, was desirous of stopping to flog a man who had 
 intentionally jostled him off the side-walk. Kornicker, how 
 ever, by urging upon him the situation of the girl, had in 
 duced him to postpone his purpose, not a little to the relief 
 of the offender, who in insulting him had intended to insult 
 only an inoffensive elderly person, who could not resent the 
 affront. 
 
 Can it be possible that any thing human tenants such a 
 den as this ? said the Doctor, looking at the half-hung door 
 of the girl s abode, and listening to the wind as it sighed 
 through broken window-panes and along the hall. 
 
 * Come on, and you 11 see, replied Kornicker ; and seizing 
 him by the arm, he led him half-stumbling up the stairs, and 
 finally paused at the girl s room. 
 
 Look in there, if you want to see comfort, said he, with 
 an irony that seemed almost savage, from the laugh which 
 accompanied it. Is n t that a sweet sick-chamber for one 
 who all her life has had every thing that money could buy ? 
 
 The Doctor glanced in the room, then at the fierce, ex 
 cited face of his companion. Come, come, said he, in a 
 kind tone, taking Kornicker s hand ; do n t give way to 
 these feelings. She 11 be well taken care of now. Harry 
 ] larson never does a good action by halves. Come in. 
 
HARRY H ARSON. 343 
 
 He pushed the door open very gently, and went to the 
 bed. The girl seemed sleeping, for she did not move. He 
 took the candle, and held it so that the light fell on her 
 face. He then placed his hand gently upon her wrist. He 
 kept it there for some moments, then held up the light 
 again, and looked at her face ; after which he placed it on 
 the floor, rose up, and took a long survey of the room. 
 
 It s a wretched place, said he, speaking in a whisper. 
 She must have suffered terribly here. 
 
 This is the way the poor live, said Kornicker, in a low, 
 bitter tone ; this is the way she has lived ; but we 11 save 
 her from dying so. 
 
 The Doctor looked at him, and then turned away and bit 
 his lip. 
 
 * What are you going to do for her ? demanded Kornick 
 er, after a pause : have you medicine with you ? 
 
 * She requires nothing now, said the Doctor, in a tone 
 scarcely above a whisper. She s dead ! 
 
 Kornicker hastily took the light, and bent over her. He 
 remained thus for a long time ; and when he rose, his eyes 
 were filled with tears. 
 
 I m sorry I left her, said he, in a vain effort to speak in 
 his usual tones. It was very hard that she should die 
 alone. I acted for the best; but d n it, I m always 
 wrong ! 
 
 He dashed his fist across his face, walked to the window, 
 and looked out. 
 
 At that moment the door opened, and Harson entered, 
 his face somewhat attempered in its joyous expression ; and 
 close behind followed the housekeeper with a large basket. 
 
 How is she ? asked he, in a subdued tone. 
 
 Kornicker made no reply, but looked resolutely out of the 
 window, and snuffed profusely. It would not have been 
 
344 HARRY HARSON. 
 
 manly to show that the large tears were coursing down his 
 cheeks. Harson threw an inquiring glance at the Doctor 
 who answered by a shake of the head : She was dead when 
 we got here. 
 
 Harson went to the bed, and put back the long tresses 
 from her face. There was much in that face to sadden the 
 old man s heart. Had it been that of an old person, of one 
 who had lived out her time, and had been gathered in in 
 due season, he would have thought less of it ; but it was sad 
 indeed to see one in the first blush of youth, scarcely more 
 than a child, stricken down and dying in such a place, and 
 so desolate. 
 
 Was there no one with her not a soul ? inquired 
 Harson, earnestly, as he rose; not one human being, to 
 breathe a word of comfort in her ear, or to whisper a kind 
 word to cheer her on her long journey ? 
 
 The Doctor shook his head : No one. Harson s lips 
 quivered, but he pressed them tightly together, and turning 
 to Kornicker, said : 
 
 * Come, my good fellow, you must struggle against your 
 feelings ; you must not be downcast about it. She s better 
 off than if she had lived much better off. 
 
 I m not in the least downcast, replied Kornicker, in a 
 very resolute manner ; I do n t care a straw about it. She 
 was nothing to me ; only it s a little disagreeable to be liv 
 ing in this world without a soul to care for, or a soul that 
 cares for you ; and then there was some satisfaction in being 
 of use to some one, and in feeling it was your duty to see 
 that no one imposed on her or ill-treated her. But no 
 matter ; it s all over now. I suppose it s all right ; and I 
 feel quite cheerful, I assure you. But you 11 look to her, 
 will you ? I can be of no farther use here, and I d rathef 
 go. 
 
HARRY HA R SON 345 
 
 I will, said Harson. 
 
 * You won t let her be buried as a pauper, I hope ? 
 
 No, upon my honor, she shall not, replied Harry. 
 
 Very well good-night. 
 
 Harson followed him down the stairs, and again en 
 deavored to force a sum of money upon him ; but Kornicker 
 was resolute in his refusal, ner could he be induced to go 
 home with Harson that evening. He said that he was not 
 hungry. 
 
 After several ineffectual efforts, the old man permitted 
 him to depart, with the internal resolution of keeping his 
 eye on him, and of giving him a helping hand in the world ; 
 a resolution which we may as well mention that he carried 
 out ; so that in a few years Mr. Kornicker became a very 
 vivacious gentleman, of independent property, who fre 
 quented a small ale-house in a retired corner of the city, 
 where he snuffed prodigally, and became a perfect oracle, 
 and of much reputed knowledge, from the sagacious manner 
 in which he shook his head and winked on all subjects. 
 
346 HARRY H ARSON. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 IT was a clear, cloudless night, and the stars twink 
 led and glistened as if the sky were full of bright eyes, 
 looking gladly down upon the world, and taking a share 
 in all its gayety and happiness. There was no moon, or 
 rather the moon was a reveller, and kept late hours, and 
 might be detected skulking through the sky at about one or 
 two in the morning, when she should have been abed ; and 
 in consequence of her neglect of duty, the streets were dark, 
 except where here and there the shop windows threw out 
 bright streams of light, revealing now a wrinkled brow, now 
 a fat, jolly face, and now a pair of bright sparkling eyes, glow 
 ing cheeks, and lips like a rose-bud, as the throng of people 
 flitted past them ; for an instant clear, distinct, with face, 
 feature, and form plainly visible, and then lost in the dark 
 ness. Some paused to look in the windows, some to chat ; 
 and it might have been observed, that those who lingered 
 longest in the light were young, and such whose faces could 
 bear both the test of light and scrutiny. But amid that 
 crowd was a single man, who followed the same course as 
 the rest; skulking in the dark corners, darting rapidly 
 across the streams of light, with his head bent down and 
 his hat slouched, as if he desired to avoid notice. When he 
 reached those places which were comparatively less thronged, 
 he paused and leaned against the iron railings of the houses, 
 and more than once turned and retraced his steps, as if he 
 had changed or mistaken his route. He was, as far as 
 could be judged from the sudden and uncertain glimpses 
 
HA RRY H A R rt ON. 347 
 
 afforded of his person, tall and gaunt, with sunken eyes, 
 long, unshorn beard, and a face disfigured by a deep 
 gash. He had the appearance of one broken down by ill 
 health or suffering, and his panting breath, as he stopped, 
 showed that he was taxing his strength by the pace at which 
 he went. Although he paused often, and often turned back, , 
 yet in the end he resumed his journey, and finally reached the 
 upper part of the city. There he struck into a dark cross- 
 street. Once free from the crowd, and where few could 
 observe him, his smothered feelings broke out ; and mutter 
 ing to himself, grating his teeth, blaspheming, now striking 
 his clenched fists as if aiming a blow, he darted on. He did 
 not pause until he came to the house of no less a person 
 than Harry Harson. He crossed the door-yard hastily, as 
 if he feared his resolution might give way ; opened the front 
 door for Harry had no enemies, and his door was un 
 bolted and entered the outer room. The door communi 
 cating with the inner room was open, so that he could see 
 within ; and, perhaps, never was there a greater contrast 
 than between the occupants of those two rooms. In one 
 was a man eaten up by fierce passions, desperate and hard 
 ened, with all that is noble in the human soul burnt out as 
 with a hot iron \ in the other sat an old man whose benevo 
 lent features beamed with good-will to all mankind. There 
 was scarcely a wrinkle in the broad, full brow ; the hair was 
 sprinkled with gray ; but what of that ? His eye was bright ; 
 and his heart God bless thee, old Harry Harson. ! what 
 need to speak of thy heart ? 
 
 The intruder had come in so noiselessly, although his 
 motions were rapid and bold, that Harson had not heard 
 him, but sat reading a newspaper, and was not a little 
 startled in looking over it to see a man seated within a few 
 
348 HARRY U ARSON. 
 
 feet of him, and gazing at him with eyes as wild and bright 
 as those of a maniac. 
 
 Who are you, in the name of Heaven ? ejaculated he, 
 too surprised even to rise, and looking at the stranger a if 
 he still doubted the reality of his being in that spot. 
 
 The man laughed savagely : Look at me, my master ; 
 look at me well ; you Ve see me afore. Try and recollect it. 
 
 Harson s embarrassment was not of long duration, and he 
 examined the man from head to foot. A vague recollection 
 of having met him some where, mingled with an indefinable 
 feeling of suspicion and pain, crossed Harson s mind as he 
 studied the sunken features which were submitted unshrink 
 ingly to his scrutiny. He thought, and pondered, and won 
 dered; and still the man remained unmoved. He looked 
 again ; the man changed his position, and the light fell upon 
 him from another direction. Harson knew him at once. 
 He started up : Murderer, I know you ! 
 
 The man was on his feet at the same moment. 
 
 Down to your seat, Sir ! said he, in a loud, savage tone. 
 * You re right ; but you cannot take me alive, nor will mor 
 tal man. In that room, said he, in a low tone, and pointing 
 toward the dark stair-case which led to the upper part of 
 the house, I killed Tim Craig the only man that ever 
 loved me. He s been after me ever since ! He leaned his 
 face toward Harson, and looking stealthily over his shoulder, 
 said, in a whisper : * He s waiting for me at the door. He 
 sat down on the steps when I came in. I do n t know why 
 I came here, but he made me do it, and I must see where I 
 killed him. It was n t me. It was Rust ; it was Rust. 
 Hark ! He cast a hasty glance in the room behind him. 
 I m going, Tim, said he. Quick! quick! give me the 
 light ! 
 
HARRY H ARSON. 349 
 
 Seizing the candle, before Harson could prevent him, he 
 rushed out of the room, and sprang up the stairs two at a 
 time. Harson followed ; but before he reached the door of 
 the upper room, with a yell so loud and unearthly that it 
 made the old man s heart stand still, the murderer darted 
 out ; his face livid, his hair bristling, his eyes starting with 
 horror. With a single bound he cleared the stairs ; crossed 
 the antechamber ; the gate swung shut heavily, and he was 
 gone ! And this was the last that was ever known of Bill 
 Jones. A few months afterward, the body of a man was 
 found floating in one of the docks, and was supposed to be 
 his ; but it was so mutilated and disfigured, that it was im 
 possible to ascertain the fact with any certainty, and it was 
 deposited in the earth, with none to claim it or care for it, 
 and with no mark to designate that the soil above it 
 shrouded a heart which had once throbbed with all the 
 hopes and fears and passions that were burning in the 
 bosoms of those who were carelessly loitering above its rest 
 ing-place. 
 
850 HARRY HARSON. 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 NED SOMERS had followed Harson s advice in not making 
 his visits to Rhoneland s too frequent. But whatever may- 
 have passed between him and Kate, and even if they did 
 occasionally meet in the street and stop to speak, and some 
 times to hold conversations which were neither short nor 
 uninteresting to themselves, that is a matter between them 
 selves, with which we have nothing to do. Certain it is, 
 however, that as Ned cooled off in his intimacy with Rhone- 
 land, he appeared to rise in the old man s estimation ; 
 and he grew more cordial when they did meet. It may 
 have been that the suspicions implanted by Rust were 
 gradually giving way before the frank, honest nature of the 
 young man; or it may have been that gratitude for the 
 assistance which Somers had lent (and which Harson was 
 very particular to give its full weight) in disentangling him 
 from the toils of Rust ; or it may have been the secret in 
 fluence of Harson, who ventured, whenever it could be done, 
 to speak a good word for Ned ; or it may have been the 
 drooping face of his child, which he was wont more than 
 ever to study anxiously, that gradually softened his feelings ; 
 but there is no doubt that, to Kate s surprise, he one day 
 told her to get him pen, ink, and paper, and to draw the 
 table in front of him, as he was going to write a letter, 
 And it must be confessed that Kate s color heightened and 
 her heart beat fast when he had finished the letter, directed 
 it to Mr. Edward Somers, and then asked if she knew the 
 address of Somers, which of course she did ; although she 
 
HARRY H ARSON. 351 
 
 hesitated and stammered as if the answer were the most 
 difficult thing in the world. 
 
 But her surprise was scarcely greater than that of Ned 
 himself, when a boy came to him with a letter which ran 
 thus: 
 
 * MY DEAR EDWARD : Come to me as soon as you can ; I 
 wish to see you on a matter of much importance to both 
 of us. 
 
 * Yours truly, JACOB RHONELAND. 
 
 Ned felt something bouncing about in a very queer man 
 ner directly under his ribs, as he read this note ; but the sen 
 sation was not so painful as to prevent his obeying it with a 
 speed that was perfectly marvellous ; for to Rhoneland it 
 seemed that the letter could scarcely have reached its desti 
 nation before Ned was back with it in his hand. 
 
 You got my note, said he gravely, as Somers entered, 
 his face flushed with the rapidity with which he had come. 
 
 I have. 
 
 Do n t go, Kate, said he to his daughter, who, with an 
 inkling of what was to follow, was stealing away. * What 
 I have to say relates to both of you. 
 
 Some time since, said he, rising and standing in front of 
 Ned, I wronged you, by making charges against you which 
 
 I am now convinced were false. My mind was poisoned by 
 one who has gone to his long account, and whose evil deeds 
 may sleep with him. For this, said he, extending his hand, 
 
 I 1 ask your pardon ; much more frankly and freely than I 
 did on the day when we met at Mr. Harson s. 
 
 Ned took the proffered hand ; at the same time pouring 
 out a confusion of words, the substance of which was, that 
 he had taken no offence ; that he knew Jacob was misled 
 by others ; that he was not only perfectly willing, but very 
 
HARRY UARSON. 352 
 
 happy, to make up the matter, and say no more about it ; 
 which no doubt was very true, for within six feet of him 
 stood Kate, with her soft eyes fixed on his face, and her little 
 mouth dimpled with smiles, as she observed how swimmingly 
 matters were going on. And could he be crusty and dog 
 ged ? or could he cherish a grudge against her father ? The 
 thing was impossible. The extended hand was grasped, 
 and grasped warmly. 
 
 Another thing I have to speak of/ said Rhoneland, relax 
 ing somewhat at the cordial tone of Ned s feelings. It is 
 but a short time since I learned the full extent of my obliga 
 tions to you, for the part you took in unmasking the cha 
 racter of Rust, which led to a disavowal of his charges 
 against me, which, false as they were, were hard indeed 
 to bear, and were breaking me down. I have not finished, 
 said he, raising his hand to prevent the interruption which 
 Somers was endeavoring to make ; let me complete what 
 I have to say, and you may speak as much as you like, 
 afterwards. I will not thank you, for thanks are but words, 
 and too often mean nothing. Is there any thing that I can 
 c?o, to lessen my indebtedness to you ? or is there any way 
 in which I can pay it off altogether? 
 
 He stopped, and looked earnestly in Ned s face. The red 
 blood dashed up to Somers very forehead, and he could 
 scarcely breathe for the thumping of his heart, as the idea 
 crossed him that now was the time to ask for Kate ; nor was 
 his agitation at all diminished by casting a glance at her, 
 and seeing her cheeks crimson and her eyes downcast, as if 
 she anticipated what was going on in his mind. It must be 
 confessed, however, that had Rhoneland had no other clue 
 to his wishes than that afforded by his words, he would have 
 been very much in the dark ; for although Ned attempted to 
 apeak out boldly, his lips trembled very much, and his voice 
 
HARRY HA R SON. 353 
 
 was not as obedient as he could have wished ; and all that 
 was distinctly audible was the girl s name. 
 
 Why, lad, what ails thee? asked Rhoneland, unbending, 
 as he observed the embarrassment of his guest. * You used 
 to be as bold as a lion. Come here, Kate, said he to his 
 daughter ; this young fellow has lost his voice ; can you 
 tell me what he wants ? 
 
 It was now Kate s turn to grow confused, and the color to 
 deepen on her cheek ; nor did she utter a word. 
 
 Young man, continued Rhoneland, in a grave tone, 4 1 
 did not send for you to trifle with your feelings. You love 
 my daughter, and would ask for her, and you fear to do so, 
 lest the request should be refused. She is yours. Treat her 
 kindly, and keep even a shadow of sorrow from falling upon 
 her brow. If you do not, an old man s curse will rest upon 
 you ; and even though I be dead, and mouldering in my 
 grave, where my voice cannot reach you, that silent curse 
 will follow you. He turned abruptly away, and left the 
 room. 
 
 Ned Somers took Kate s hand in his; passed his arm 
 about her waist, and drew her to him in so singular a man 
 ner that their lips could not but meet ; and not only once, 
 but at least some half a dozen times. 
 
 So you re mine at last, Kate ! said he, looking into her 
 very eyes, whenever they were raised enough for him to do 
 so. Did I not tell you to cheer up ; and that all would be 
 well ? Did I not say so ; and was n t I right ? And now, 
 Kate, said he, in a less confident tone, * your father, though 
 a most worthy old gentleman, is somewhat whimsical, and 
 might change his mind ; so when shall it be ? 
 
 Kate s reply was so very low, that it reached no ears 
 except those of Ned ; but whatever it was, it is certain that 
 on that day month they had been married a week, and were 
 
354 HARRY H ARSON. 
 
 deep in preparations for a merry-making to be held on that 
 very evening at Rhoneland s old house, which had been so 
 furbished up and renovated, under the auspices of the young 
 couple, that every thing in it seemed to shine again. A 
 party at Jacob Rhoneland s ! It was a thing unheard-of, and 
 produced quite a sensation in the drowsy part of the town 
 where he lived. Never had a household been in such a 
 fluster as his was. What deep consultations were held to 
 prevent the old man who seemed to have grown quite 
 cheerful and light-hearted, and chirruped about the house 
 like some gay old cricket from meddling in every 
 thing, and to throw dust in his eyes, so as to make him 
 suppose that he was having every thing in his own way, 
 when in fact he was having nothing. And then what a time 
 it took, and what entreaties, to prevail on him to let the 
 great wooden chest, studded with brass nails, which he never 
 took his eye from, be removed to an upper chamber, to make 
 room for their guests ! But Harry Harson, who was in the 
 thick of all the doings, and in and out a dozen times in an 
 hour ; rubbing his hands and enjoying the bustle, giving 
 advice, suggesting this thing and that, and setting every 
 thing wrong ; managed to get the great chest out of the 
 way, for he dragged it up stairs under Rhoneland s very 
 nose, and in the teeth of his remonstrances ; and depositing 
 it in a little out-of-the-way room, very difficult of access, by 
 reason of the angles and turns in the entry, and the size of 
 the chest, told Rhoneland that if he wanted it below he 
 might take it there himself; but that it was better where it 
 was, and much more safe and out of the way ; in which 
 opinion Rhoneland finally coincided. 
 
 Betimes Kate came down stairs to receive her guests, 
 looking so charmingly, and her eyes flashing with such mali 
 cious brightness, that on meeting her in the entry, Ned stopped 
 
HARRY H ARSON. 355 
 
 to kiss her, and tell her that she was looking gloriously ; 
 a performance and observation, by the way, which he had 
 already repeated half "a dozen times in the course of the 
 last hour. By twos and threes the guests began to arrive, 
 and went up stairs. There was a great clatter above, where 
 they were taking off their things. It took a wonderful time 
 to remove the hats and shawls ; for although for a long time 
 up they went, none came down. There must have been 
 thirty assembled above stairs. At last Harry Harson, who 
 was in the room with Ned and Kate, dressed in his best 
 black suit, and looking as young and merry as any of them, 
 vowed that he would not stand it, and sallied up stairs and 
 sent them down in a drove. How bright and cheerful they 
 all were! how the congratulations poured in upon Ned and 
 Kate ; and hopes for his future happiness, and that he might 
 have a large fortune, and a large family to help him take 
 care of it ! 
 
 A loud scraping and jingling announced that the music 
 was there, and put a stop to such flummery as conversation. 
 The young folks were going into the business of the evening. 
 Clem, the little stunted black fiddler with rings in his ears, was 
 mounted on one chair ; the big, fat fiddler, who nadled with 
 his eyes shut, was seated on another ; and the goggle-eyed 
 negro, with a self-satisfied face, who simpered on every body, 
 and flourished the tambourine, was placed like an umbrella 
 in the corner, to be out of the way. 
 
 The fat fiddler called out for the gentlemen to choose 
 their partners for a quadrille. Then came the long pre 
 monitory screeching of the fiddle-bow across the cat-gut ; 
 then the slight, tremulous jingle of the tambourine, as if the 
 goggle-eyed negro were dying to begin ; then the bustling 
 and hustling, and squeezing of the couples, until they had 
 obtained their places in the dance. Then the scientific look 
 
356 HARRY H ARSON. 
 
 of the fat fiddler as he opened his eyes and surveyed the 
 whole, to see that all was right ; then the slight clearing of 
 his throat, as he threw his head on one side, bellowed out 
 right and left, and forthwith plunged into the matter, might 
 and main. Away he went ; but fast and furious at his heels 
 followed the little stunted fiddler ; and loud above the din of 
 both, rose the rattle of the tambourine. Right hand across ! 
 forward two ; balancez ; ladies chain ; forward four ; dos-a- 
 doz ; chassez to the right ; cross over ; all round ; here, 
 there, every where, and all over he was up to it all. In 
 vain the dancers fairly flew ; the fat fiddler was equal to all 
 emergencies ; he never lagged ; he was sometimes too fast, 
 but never no, not for a single instant was he too slow. 
 
 Whew ! said he, as he gave the final flourish of his bow, 
 and laying it aside, wiped his forehead on his coat-sleeve, 
 and called for a tumbler of cold water. And thereupon the 
 stunted fiddler and the tambourine made the same request ; 
 the latter suggesting that his glass might be tempered with 
 a small spirt of gin, without hurting his feelings. 
 
 In that dance, the lightest step and merriest voice was 
 that of Harson, who led out the bride, and footed it there 
 with the best of them ; and who through the whole evening 
 was bustling around the room, with a kind word for every 
 one, and as much at home as if the house, and the company, 
 and even the bride, belonged to him. And in fact, one or 
 two of the guests but they were unsophisticated people 
 from the country were for some time under the delusion 
 that Harry was the bridegroom, instead of the quiet young 
 fellow who was seen walking about the rooms, talking to the 
 disagreeable old women, and getting partners for the ugly 
 young ones, without their knowing it ; but all in such an 
 unobtrusive manner that he seemed quite a nobody when 
 compared with Harson. 
 
HARRY H ARSON. 357 
 
 But there must be an end even to the merriest meetings ; 
 and when they had kept it up until the night had got among 
 the small hours, they began to drop off. And here, amid 
 the adieus of departing guests, we will take our leave of the 
 young couple ; for it is far pleasanter to bid farewell to those 
 whose friendship we have cherished when hope is strong and 
 bright, than when care or disappointment has flung ita 
 shadow over their hearts. 
 
358 HARRY H ARSON. 
 
 CHAPTER THE LAST. 
 
 A FEW weeks had elapsed, and a small group was 
 gathered one evening at Harson s fireside. It was composed 
 of three persons beside Harson. The first was a man of 
 about fifty; he might have been younger; for the heavy 
 wrinkles which were scored across his forehead may have 
 been the fruit of trouble and care, for they were almost too 
 deep for his years ; his mouth was firmly compressed, like 
 that of one in the habit of mastering strong feelings ; and 
 the whole character of his face would have been stern, but 
 for his dark-gray eye, which at times brightened up almost 
 to childish playfulness. This was Mr. Colton, the father -of 
 Harson s protege, Annie. The child herself was seated on 
 Harson s knee, sound asleep, with her head resting on his 
 breast. The only other person in the group was the wife of 
 Mr. Colton. She was quite young, and had once possessed 
 great beauty the beauty of youth and happiness ; but that 
 was gone, and in its place was the patient look of one who 
 had suffered much, and in silence. She spoke seldom, and 
 in a low tone, so soft and musical that one regretted when 
 the voice ceased. 
 
 Your letter, said Mr. Colton, in continuation of a previous 
 conversation, put an end to all my plans respecting my poor 
 niece. I had hoped to assist her ; for, knowing her father s 
 hostility to her, I feared that she might be in want. Her 
 death was a very melancholy one. 
 
 He looked in the fiff in deep thought, and for a short time 
 a silence ensued which no one seemed inclined to break. 
 
HARRY EARS ON. 359 
 
 * I never saw her, said his wife, after some moments ; * I 
 think you did. 
 
 Yes, once at the trial, replied he, uttering the last 
 words with an effort, as if the subject were painful. * She 
 was very beautiful. 
 
 * Did she resemble her father ? inquired Mrs. Colton. 
 Perhaps I can settle that question more easily than any 
 
 one, said Harson, rising up, by letting you judge for your 
 self. 
 
 He went to a small curtain which hung against the 
 wall, and drawing it aside, disclosed a portrait of Rust s 
 daughter the same which Rust had brooded over with 
 such mingled emotions on the night previous to the murder. 
 The same childlike, innocent smile, played round the small, 
 dimpled mouth ; the same calm, thoughtful expression of 
 intellect mingled with gentleness, shone out of the eyes. All 
 was as it was when father and child last looked upon it 
 the criminal and her accuser. Every line was unaltered ; 
 but where were they ? DUST ! They had acted their part on 
 earth ; their love, their hate, their fears, their remorse, were past. 
 The tide of time was hurrying on, bringing life and death 
 and hopes and fears to others, but sweeping from the earth 
 all trace of their footsteps. To them for ever, ay, even until 
 the last trump, time and thought, and care and feeling, had 
 no existence ! 
 
 Mrs. Colton s eyes filled with tears as she gazed upon the 
 picture. She deserved a happier fate, said she, in a subdued 
 tone, as if she feared to disturb the spell which seemed to 
 hang about it. 
 
 It was ordained for the best, replied Harson, in a grave 
 tone, as he regarded the portrait with a solemn interest. 
 Then, after a moment, he added : That was she, before 
 want and suffering had laid their iron finger upon her. 
 
3CO HARRY HARSON. 
 
 When I saw her, she was dead. She was very beautiful even 
 then ; but in the short time that had elapsed since her 
 father s imprisonment, the work of years had been per 
 formed; she seemed much older and thinner, and more 
 care-worn. 
 
 * How did you get this ? inquired Mr. Colton, pointing to 
 the picture. 
 
 A friend of mine, the person who aided the girl in her 
 last moments, accidentally learned that it was for sale, and 
 begged me to buy it. He was too poor to do it, and I was 
 willing to gratify him ; and so the picture became mine. 
 
 Mr. Colton looked at him for a few moments, as if on the 
 point of making some remark, and then walked to the other 
 end of the room and took a seat without a word. He was 
 aroused by the child climbing on his knee, and putting her 
 arms about his neck. 
 
 1 God protect you, my child ! said he, laying his hand 
 affectionately on her head; may you never know the misery 
 which has fallen upon that poor girl ! 
 
 The words were intended to be inaudible, but they reached 
 the ear of his wife, who, going up to him, and laying her hand 
 on his arm, said in a low voice : Come, come, George, do 
 not give way to these feelings. You must not be gloomy. 
 
 He looked at her sadly, and then placing his finger on his 
 heart, said : Is not what has been going on here, for years, 
 enough to wither to the root every feeling of cheerfulness, 
 so that it should never again put forth a blossom ? 
 
 Hush ! hush ! interrupted his wife, in a whisper ; if you 
 have suffered, you have gained at last what you have always 
 praved for ; while he, who caused it all, has paid the pe 
 nalty of his misdeeds. Remember what his fate was. 
 She pointed to the picture : * Remember, too, the fate of his 
 
HARRY H ARSON. 361 
 
 only child. George, ".George! his punishment has been 
 terrible, even in this world ! 
 
 You are right, Mary God forgive me ! I 11 think of 
 it no more. He and I were nursed in the same arms, and 
 watched by the same fond mother. From the bottom of 
 my heart I forgive him. It would be sacrilege to her 
 memory, for me to harbor an unkind feeling toward even a 
 stranger, if she had loved him. 
 
 He was silent for a moment, and then addressing Harson, 
 inquired : 
 
 Who is this Mr. Kornicker ? 
 
 A poor fellow, with little to help him through the world 
 but careless habits and a good heart. 
 
 What character does he bear? inquired the other. 
 
 * Such as might be expected from his position, replied 
 Harson; full of flaws, but with a vein of gold running 
 through it. Nature has given him fine feelings, and Fortune 
 unluckily, has placed him in a situation where such feeling* 
 are impediments rather than otherwise. But he is a nobU 
 fellow for all that. 
 
 Where can he be found ? asked his guest. 
 
 Harson probably anticipated the object of this inquiry, foi 
 he said with a laugh : 
 
 He has been taken care of; he has been placed where 
 the means of livelihood and competence are in his grasp, if 
 he will but work for them. And what is better yet, he seems 
 disposed to do so, although not much can be expected of him 
 at first. I do not think, added he, that it contributes to 
 the happiness of a young man, with a long life before him, 
 to be altogether idle. I will do all that I can to help him ; 
 but he must work. It will be more easy for him as he gets 
 used to the traces. 
 
 The stranger acquiesced in this remark, and then added : 
 16 
 
3,52 HAAAY H ARSON. 
 
 1 1 will take his address, nevertheless, for I must see him 
 when I return to the city, which will be very shortly ; but 
 you seem to have anticipated me in every thing. Even the 
 lawyer, Mr. Holmes, declined to be paid for his services. He 
 said that this was not strictly a business matter, and that 
 what he had done was out of friendship for you, and that I 
 had better pocket the fee and drop the subject ; at the same 
 time, he said he was going to dinner, and asked me to join 
 him, which I did, and a very pleasant time we had of it. 
 
 A good-natured laugh was indulged at the peculiarities 
 of the old lawyer, and many stories told of him, and of 
 others who have figured in this history. Nor was it until 
 the little clock over the mantel-piece seemed to give a 
 very vehement wag of its pendulum as it struck twelve, and 
 Spite, who had been asleep in the corner, bounced up, 
 alarmed at the lateness of the night, and barked vociferously, 
 that they dreamed of going to bed. 
 
 The strangers were Harson s guests that night ; and the 
 old man, having escorted them to their room, and wished 
 them good-night, was himself soon in bed and asleep. 
 
 Bright and early the next morning, they were astir ; for 
 they were to leave the city, and Harson was up and ready to 
 see them off. It was a fine morning ; the trees were just 
 beginning to put forth their spring leaves, and Hie grass in 
 the public squares was looking quite fresh and green, as they 
 drove down to the wharf where the steamer lay, whizzing 
 and puffing, and groaning as if in mortal pain, and tugging 
 at its cable like some shackled sea-monster struggling to 
 escape to its home in the deep. Early as it was, crowds 
 were hurrying to and fro ; carts driving up and unloading ; 
 porters staggering along with trunks and bales on their 
 shoulders; carriages dashing up at a gallop, filled with 
 people afraid of being too late, and going off more leisurely 
 
HARRY H ARSON. 363 
 
 tftar the passengers were deposited on the wnarf. People 
 were bustling hither and thither, elbowing their way to one 
 place, merely to find out where to elbow it to the next ; 
 friends were bidding each other adieu ; and in particular, a 
 stout lady from the country, in yellow ribbons, from the 
 upper part of the boat was sending a confidential message 
 to her family and friends by a gentleman who stood in the 
 crowd some sixty yards off. 
 
 Through this throng the coach containing our friends 
 drove, and just in good time, for as they stepped on board, 
 the last bell rang. 
 
 All aboard ! shouted the captain ; take in the plank. 
 
 Harson shook hands with his friends. God bless thee, 
 my child ! said he, pressing Annie in his arms. The next 
 moment he stepped on shore ; and the boat glided from the 
 dock, and shot out upon the green water. 
 
 Ah, Annie ! said the old man, as he stopped waving his 
 hand, and turned away from the river, I had hoped that 
 you would have been mine own as long as I lived ; but it s 
 all right as it is. Your brother, added he, I did not miss 
 much, when his parents took him, but you had become a 
 part of my home. Well, well ! 
 
 No doubt there was a great deal of hidden consolation in 
 these last words ; for Harson s face soon recovered its usual 
 cheerful character, and he steadily trudged toward his home. 
 
 A few words respecting the other characters, and our task 
 is ended. 
 
 Grosket was induced by Mr. Colton to remove to the 
 country, where an intercourse with different and better men 
 than those with whom he had hitherto associated, tended in 
 a great measure to soften his character and temper his 
 tierce passions the offspring of persecution and suffering. 
 
 Mrs. Blossom, at first alarmed by the fear of the law, grew 
 
.T.4 HARRY HARSON. 
 
 penitent and rigorous in the discharge of her moral obliga 
 tions to society ; but the law being a notorious sleepy-head, 
 and never appearing to have its eyes open, she gradually fell 
 into her old habits, reopened her seminary for lambs ; and 
 from the great quantity of her disciples which frequent the 
 thoroughfares of the city at present, I should judge is getting 
 along- prosperously. Mr. Snork was extremely desirous of 
 becoming a partner in the concern, and made several over 
 tures, to that effect, which might have been accepted by the 
 lady, had he not objected to being deprived of his eye-sight, 
 and seated at a corner to receive pennies from passers-by. 
 It was in vain that the lady represented to him that this 
 would be the making of their respective fortunes ; that blind 
 beggars, particularly if they were remarkably disgusting, 
 as was the case with him, had been known to retire with 
 handsome fortunes, and that some of them even bought snug 
 little farms in the country, and kept a horse and shay. 
 Mr. Snork, however, was obstinate ; his proposals were 
 accordingly rejected, and he returned disconsolately to his 
 abode, which was now lonely, his wife having paid a visit to 
 the penitentiary, for the benefit of the country air. 
 
 The widow, Mrs. Chowles, still lives in her quiet, blinking 
 little house, as cheerful and contented as ever ; as happy as 
 ever to hear Harry s heavy step, and to see his honest face 
 in his old corner in her parlor ; and although he is no longer 
 accompanied by Spite, who has grown old and rheumatic, so 
 that he is unable to stir from the chimney-corner, where he 
 passes his time in crabbed solitude, except when he turns up 
 his dim eyes to his old master, as he hears his voice, and 
 feels his caressing hand on his head ; all else is as it was in 
 that little household ; and that it may long continue is oui 
 warmest wish. 
 
THE 
 
 SCALP HUNTERS; 
 
 OR. ADVENTURES AMONG THE TRAPPERS 
 
 BY CAPTAIN" MAYNE REID, 
 
 AUTHOR OF "RIFLE ANGKBS," " TKK WHITE CHIEF," "HUNTERS FEAST," ETC., ETC. 
 
 One volume, 12mo., Beautifully Illustrated. Cloth, Price $1 25. 
 
 So marked was the success of the " RIFLE RANGERS," both in this country and in 
 Etrope, that the author was induced to publish at an early day, the volume whose title 
 heads this page ; a work of more thrilling adventure, bolder incident, and glowing descrip 
 tion than had ever before* appeared in the same field of literature. These two books 
 jpeedily achieved a high reputation for the writer, which he has sedulously striven to 
 enhance by the publication of several other works of a somewhat kindred character. In 
 ill of these volumes has the powerful descriptive faculty of the author stood out in bold 
 relief, and marked him as the DB FOB of AMERICA. The Publishers are happy to say that 
 having secured the right to publish all of this series, they are enabled to offer to the 
 public a collection of volumes, which in point of intense interest, are not only unsur 
 passed, but seldom equalled. A brief Synopsis of Contents will be found below. 
 
 CHAPTER 
 
 I. The Wild West. 
 II. The Prairie Merchants. 
 III. Tl-e " Prairie Fever." 
 IV. Ride upon a Buffalo Bull. 
 V. In a Bad " Fix." 
 VI. Santa Fe. 
 VII. The Fandango. 
 VIII. Seguin, the Scalp-Uunter. 
 IX. Left Behind. 
 X. The Del Norte. 
 XI. The "Journey of Death. 
 XII. Zoe. 
 
 XIII. Seguin. 
 
 XIV. Love. 
 
 XV. Light and Shade. 
 XVI. An Autobiography 
 XVII. Up the Del Norte 
 XVIII. Geography and Geology. 
 XIX. The Scalp-Hunters. 
 XX. Sharp-Shooting. 
 XXI. A S>at a la Tell. 
 XXII. A Feat a la Tail. 
 
 XXIII. The Programme. 
 
 XXIV. El Sol and La Luna. 
 XXV. The War-Trail. 
 
 XXVI. Three Days in the Trap 
 XXVII. The Diggers. 
 JCXV1II. Dacoma. 
 
 XXIX. A Dinner with two Dishes. 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER 
 XXX. 
 
 XXXI. 
 XXXII. 
 XXXIII. 
 XXXIV. 
 XXXV. 
 XXXVI. 
 XXXVII. 
 XXXVIII. 
 XXXIX. 
 XL. 
 XLl. 
 XLII. 
 XL1II. 
 XLIV. 
 XLV. 
 XLVI. 
 XLVII. 
 XLVIII. 
 XL1X. 
 L. 
 LI. 
 LII. 
 LIII. 
 LIV. 
 LV. 
 LVI. 
 
 vm. 
 
 Blinding the Pursuer A Trap 
 per s Ruse. 
 
 A Buffalo " Surround." 
 Another " Coup." 
 A Bitter Tap. 
 The Phantom City. 
 The Mountain of Gold. 
 Navajoa. 
 
 The Night Ambuscade. 
 Adele. 
 
 The White Scalp. 
 The Canon Fight. 
 The Barranca. 
 The Foe. 
 New Misery. 
 The Flag of Truce. 
 A Vexed Treaty. 
 A Conflict with closed Doors. 
 A Queer Encounter in a Cave. 
 Smoked Out. 
 
 A Novel Mode of Equation. 
 A Fast Dye. 
 
 Abiouishing the Natives. 
 Running a Muck. 
 A Conflict upon a Cliff. 
 An Unexpected Rencontre. 
 The Rescue. 
 El Paso Del Norte. 
 Touching the Chords of Memory. 
 
 The above work will be forwarded by Mail, free of postage, on 
 receipt of price. 
 
 ROBERT M. DE WITT, PUBLISHER, 
 
 13 FRANKFORT STREET. 
 
 W. H. TINSON, Printer & Stereotyper, 94 Beeknwn St., N. Y. 
 
Copies mailed to any distance* free of postage, on receipt of 
 
 MAYNE EEID S GEEAT WOKK 1-20,000 COPIES SOLD! 
 
 THE RIELE BANGERS, 
 
 BY CAPTAIN MAYNE REID. 
 
 AUTHOR OF THE " SCALP HUNTERS," " HOSIERS FEAST," ETC., ETC. 
 
 BeaiAifully Embellished with Illustrations on Plate Paper. Bouna in 
 cloth, Price $1 25. 
 
 THE RIFLE RANGE.RS, first published in England, produced a great sensation there, and 
 was eagerly sought after. It is a brilliant effort, and places the author in the first rank 
 of our most able writers. 
 
 The work Is remarkable for stirring and wild adventures, many of which the writer 
 personally passed through; and running through the whole, there is a vein of quiet 
 humor, which relieves the more fearful parts of the narrative. And his female charac 
 ters 1 oh, how lovely ! such as could belong orjly to the sunny South ; we are much in 
 doubt whether the dark eyes of Guadalupe, or the blue ones of Mary of the Light 
 would most suit our fancy. Upon the whole, we commend the work to our readers as a 
 most interesting and readable book. 
 
 It is printed in beautiful style, with an elegant cover, and striking engravings, illustra 
 tire of some of the hair-breadth escapes which the author effected. 
 
 CONTE NTS. 
 
 Adventure among the Creoles. 
 
 A Volunteer Rendezvous. 
 
 A Georgia Tavern Keeper. 
 
 Life in Lobos Wonderful Guyas-Cutis. 
 
 Spy in the Camp. 
 
 Adventure with a Skeleton. 
 
 The Foiled Assassin. 
 
 Going on the Scout The Traitor. 
 
 Adventure with an Alligator. 
 
 Danger of the fair Bathers. 
 
 A Subterranean Dwelling. 
 
 The Hurricane The Scout. 
 
 New Way to tame a Bull. 
 
 A Brush with the Guerrilleros. 
 
 Herculean Feat Running the Gauntlet. 
 
 A Short Fight at "Long Shot." 
 
 The Rescue The Cobra di Capello. 
 
 The Maiden s Escape The Hacienda, 
 
 Head-Quarters of tb-j Guerrilla 
 
 Chane s Courtship. 
 
 Dance of the Tagorata. 
 
 Kiss in the Dark-Stiletto in Exchange. 
 
 Pursuit The Terrible Bloodhound.*. 
 
 Dreadful Encounter An Indian Ruse. 
 
 Lupe and Luz A Tough Night. 
 
 Disappointment and New Plan. 
 
 A Fool-hardy Adventure. 
 
 Help from Heaven Shot in the Dark. 
 
 Captured by the Guerrilleros. 
 
 A Blind Ride A Maiden s Wit. 
 
 A Stampede New Way to open a Letter. 
 
 A Coup d Eclair Bridge of Monkeys. 
 
 Padre Jarauta Dreadful Sentence 
 
 Hanging by the Heels. 
 
 The Coup de Grace The Deliverance, 
 
 Love and War Bright Eyes Win, 
 
 Bird s-Eye View of a Battle. 
 
 Wholesale Capture. 
 
 Duel, with a queer End 
 
 Address all Orders to 
 
 ROBERT M. DE WITT, PUBLISHER, 
 
 13 FRANKFORT STREET. 
 
 W. H. TUWOH, Printer and Sterootyper, Rear of 48 & 45 Centre St., N. t. 
 
Copies mailed to any distance^ fret of postage^ on receipt of prir* 
 
 UEIIVS 
 
 SCENES AND ADYENTURES 
 
 IN THE WEST AND SOUTHWEST. 
 
 THE RIFLE RANGERS. 
 
 Benutifutty Embellished with Eight Splendid Illustrations on Plate Paper . $1 25. 
 This work is remarkable for stirring and wild adventures, many of which the writer 
 personally passed through ; and running through the whole there is a vein of quiet 
 humor, which relieves the more fearful parts of the narrative. 
 
 THE SCALP HUNTERS; 
 
 OR, ADVENTURES AMONG THE TRAPPERS. 
 
 One Volume, I2mo. t Eight Beautiful Illustrations^ cloth. Price $1 25. 
 So marked was the success of the " Rifle Rangers," both in fhis country and in Europe, 
 that the author was induced to publish at an early day the above named book, a work of 
 more thrilling adventure, bolder incident, and glowing description than had ever before 
 appeared in the same field of literature. 
 
 THE HUNTERS FEAST ; 
 
 OR, CONVERSATIONS AROUND THE CAMP-FIRE. 
 
 Beautifully Illustrated with Eight Engravings by N. ORR. Price $1 25. 
 
 In all our experience we have never met with a book which gives such vivid and soul- 
 
 atirnng pictures of the wonderful and terrible adventures of a Western Hunter s and 
 
 Trapper s life, as are presented in this evidently truthful narrative. 
 
 THE WHITE CHIEF; 
 
 A LEGEND OP NORTH MEXICO. 
 
 One Volume, 12mo., Eight Elegant Illustrations, cloth. Price $1 25. 
 This is another of thos-e popular works of adventure which have taken such a hold of 
 the American public adapted as they are to rouse all that feeling of enthusiasm and 
 thirst for bold deeds wliich seems to be inherent in the breasts of our people. 
 
 THE QUADROON; 
 
 OR, A LOVER S ADVENTURES IN LOUISIANA. 
 Illustrated with Eight Elegant Engravings. Price $1 25. 
 
 Ancther spirited and brilliant romance, quite equal in stirring interest, graphic descrip 
 tions of natural scenery, and truthful, vivid portraitures of character, to anything th* 
 Captain has yet written, and little more need be said in its favor. 
 
 THE WAR TRAIL; 
 
 OR, THE HUNT OP THE WILD HORSE. 
 
 One Volume, \2rno., Eight Beautiful Illustrations, cloth. Price $1 25. 
 Capt. Mayne Reid was an officer in our army during the late war with Mexico, and 
 while in that country met with many adventures, which form the groundwork of his last 
 4<ul best effort. We can truthfully say it is the most interesting book of the day. 
 
 OSCEOLA THE SEMINOLE ; 
 
 OR, THE RED FAWN OP THE FLOWER LAND. 
 
 Containing nearly 500 pages, handsomely embellished with original de*igit, 
 
 engraved in the highest style of the art by N. OKR, Esq. Price $1 25. 
 The brief but heroic struggle of the Chief, OSCEOLA, forms the groundwork of a narra 
 live which is equal to any of Mr. Reid s former productions; and while the reader * 
 patriotism cannot fail to be gratified at the result, his sympathy is awakened for the 
 manly struggles and untimely fate of the gallant spirit, who fought so .lobly for th 
 freedom of his red brethren and the preservation of their cherished hunting grounds. 
 
 Address all Orders to 
 
 ROBERT M. DE WITT, PUBLISHER, 
 
 13 FRANKFORT STREET. 
 
 W. H. TWOM, Printer nd Streotypr, rear of 43 A 44 Centre St., N. Y. 
 
( vlf* niuilsd Jo any rf/*/rt. *r?, free ttf ptt 
 
 on re ~eipt ofpriee. 
 
 THE LAST GREAT BOOK OF A GREAT SERIES! 
 
 CAPTAIN MAYNE REID S LAST WORK. 
 
 OSCEOLA THE SEMINOLE; 
 
 OR. THE BED FAWN OF THE FLOWER LAND. 
 
 BY CAPTAIN MAYNE REID, 
 
 AUTHOR OF " THK SCALF HUNTERS," " R1FLR RANGERS," " WHITK CHIEF," " HUNTER S FVAflV. 1 * 
 
 "QUADROON," " THE WAR TRAIL," etc., etc. 
 
 Obtaining nearly 500 pages, hansomely embellished with original designs, engraved in 
 the highest style of the art, by N. Orr, Esq. Price $1 25. 
 
 The Historical Novel has ever maintained a high rank perhaps the highest among 
 works of fiction, for the reason that while it enchants the senses, it improves the mind, 
 conveying under a most pleasing form much information which, perhaps, the reader 
 would never have sought for amid the dry records of the purely historic narrative. 
 
 This fact being conceded, it needs but little argument to prove that those works are 
 most interesting which treat of the facts and incidents pertaining to our own history, and 
 of a date which is yet fresh in the memory of the reader. 
 
 To this class of books preeminently belongs the volume which is here submitted to the 
 American reader, from the pen of a writer who has proved himself unsurpassed in the field 
 which he has, by his various works, made peculiarly his own. 
 
 The brief but heroic struggle of the celebrated Chief, OSCEOLA, forms the groundwork of 
 a narrative which is equal, if not superior, to any of Mr. Reid s former productions ; and 
 while the reader s patriotism cannot fail to be gratified at the result, his sympathy is at 
 the same time, awakened for the manly struggles and untimely fate of the gallant spirit, 
 who fought so nobly for the freedom of his red brethren and the preservation of their 
 cherished hunting-grounds. 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 The Flowery Land. The Indigo Plantation. 
 
 The Two Jakes. The Hotnmock. 
 
 Yellow Jake. The Alligator. 
 
 The Turtle-Crawl. The King Vultures. 
 
 The Bath. The " Half-blood. 
 
 The Chase. A Severe Sentence. 
 
 The Chase. Ringgold s Revenge. 
 
 Maumee. The Island. 
 
 West Point. The Seminoles. 
 
 An Indian Hero. 
 
 Frontier Justice. Indian Slaves. 
 
 A Circuitous Transaction. 
 
 Reflections by the Way. 
 
 A Strange Apparition. 
 
 Who Fired the Shot ? A Frontier Fort. 
 
 The Council. The Rising Sun. 
 
 The Ultimatum Talk over the Table. 
 
 The Traitor Chiefs. Shadows in the Water. 
 
 Haj-Ewa. A pretty Plot. 
 
 Light and Darkness. In Need of a Friend. 
 
 Ihe Final Assembly. Cashiering the Chief.%. 
 
 The Signature of Osceola. 
 
 Fighting Qa/lagher. Provoking a Duel. 
 
 The Challenge. The Assignation. 
 
 An Eclaircissement. Two Duels in One Day. 
 
 A Silent Declaration. 
 
 The Captive. The War-cry. 
 
 War to the Knife. 
 
 Tracing a Strange Horseman. 
 
 Who was the Rider. Cold Courtesy. 
 
 Address all Orders to 
 
 ROBERT M. 
 
 My Sister s Spirit. Asking an Explanation. 
 
 The Volunteers. Mysterious Changes. 
 
 My Informant. Old Hiukman. 
 
 A Hasty Messenger. A Lover s Gift. 
 
 The Route. A Knock on the Head. 
 
 An Indian Executioner^ 
 
 A Banquet with a Bad Ending. 
 
 "Dade s Massacre." The Battle-ground. 
 
 The Battle of" Ouithlacoochee." 
 
 A Victory Ending in a Retreat. 
 
 Another Swamp Fight. The Talk. 
 
 Mysterious Disappearance of an Army. 
 
 The Condition of Black Jake. 
 
 A Sad Spectacle. To the Trail. 
 
 The Alarm. A False Alarm. 
 
 " A Split Trail." Crossing the Savanna. 
 
 Groping Among the Timber. 
 
 Signal Shots. An Empty Camp. 
 
 A Dead Forest. A Circular Conflict. 
 
 A Dead Shot by Jake. 
 
 A Meagre Meal. A Bullet from Behind. 
 
 A Jury Amid the Fire. 
 
 Quick Executioners. 
 
 An Enemy Unlocked For. 
 
 A Conflict in Darkness. 
 
 The Black Plumes. Buried Alive. 
 
 Devils or Angels. 
 
 The End of Arens Ringgold. 
 
 The Death Warning. 
 
 Osceola s Fate. Con-elusion. 
 
 DE WITT, PUBLISHER, 
 13 FRANKFORT STREET. 
 
 W. H. TIMKW, Frintor and Stereotyper, rear of 48 * 46 Centre St., N. Y. 
 
Copies mailed to any tlixtant-f* frer of postage^ on receipt of 
 
 MAYNE REID S MEXICAN ADVENTURES. 
 
 THE WHITE CHIEF. 
 
 A 1 EQEND OF NORTH MEXICU 
 
 BY CAPTAIN MAYNE REID. 
 
 AUTHOR or "KIFLE RANGERS," "SCALP HUNTERS," "HUNTERS FEAST," ETC., BTO. 
 
 One Vo] , I2mo. Beautifully Illustrated, Cloth, Pric*. $1 25. 
 
 THIS is another of those popular works of adventure which have taken such a hold of 
 the American public adapted as they are to rouse all that feeling of enthusiasm ani 
 thirst for bold deeds which seems to be inherent in the breasts of our people. Few writers 
 have risen to such popularity in so short a time. The " Scalp Hungers," " Rifle Rangers," 
 "Hunter s Feast," and "White Chief," form a library in themselves, for they contain 
 not only thrilling narratives of Wild Wood Life, but are full of information as to the habitt 
 and natural history of the denizens of the woods and forests, lakes and streams, be they 
 four-legged or two-legged, or no legs at all, AVe subjoin a brief synopsi? of the 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 The Valley of San Ildefonso 
 
 Religious Festivals. 
 
 "Tailing the Bull." 
 
 Sports Resumed. 
 
 The Taunt. 
 
 Bitter Hate. 
 
 Fearful Spectacle. 
 
 Rosita and Don Juan. 
 
 Evening on a Feast-Day. 
 
 The "Staked Plain." 
 
 Antonio, the Half-Blood. 
 
 The Buffalo Hunt. 
 
 Alarm in the Coral. 
 
 SaspToion Aroused. 
 
 New Fears. 
 
 The Mystery. 
 
 The Signal. 
 
 The Scene Changes. 
 
 The Tete-a-Tete. 
 
 The Lonely House. 
 
 Maternal Solicitude. 
 
 The Cup of Water. 
 
 The Arrival. 
 
 Vizcarra Seeks the Wine Cup. 
 
 Force Resolved Upon. 
 
 Trouble Ahead. 
 
 Return of Carlos. 
 
 The Brother and Lover. 
 
 The Wolf-Dog Cibole 
 
 Guilty Conscience. 
 
 The Dream. 
 
 The Consultation. 
 
 A Wily Counsellor. 
 
 Suspense. 
 
 The Town in an Uproar. 
 
 Address all Orders to 
 
 ROBERT M. 
 
 Death of Garcia. 
 
 Crafty Plottings. 
 
 Carlos Escapes. 
 
 Roblado s Expedition. 
 
 Morning Prayers. 
 
 Vizcarra Plots Vengeance. 
 
 Don Ambrosio de Cruces. 
 
 Catalina. 
 
 Midnight. 
 
 The Crouching Serpent. 
 
 The Explanation. 
 
 Carlos in Peril. 
 
 Fresh Rumors. 
 
 The Trap Falls. 
 
 Joaquin the Priest. 
 
 The Buffalo Hunters. 
 
 The Man-Hunters Start for their Pref, 
 
 The Cave. 
 
 Night. 
 
 The Suspicious Trail. 
 
 Carlos Returns. 
 
 The Wour led Friend. 
 
 The Ambuscade. 
 
 The Cactus Thicket. 
 
 A Mystery. 
 
 Consternation of Pepe. 
 
 The Scene Changes. 
 
 The Prisoner. 
 
 The Piazza. 
 
 The Resolve. 
 
 The Banquet. 
 
 The Guard Relieved. 
 
 Midnight Carousings. 
 
 Carlos Return. 
 
 DEWITT, PUBLISHER, 
 13 FRANKFORT STREET. 
 
 W. H. TINSON, Printer and Stereotyper, Rear of 43 4 46 Centre St., N. 
 
Copt*9 mailed to any distance^ free oft... 
 
 on receipt of price* 
 
 THE QUADROON; 
 
 OE, A LOVER S ADVENTTJEES IN LOUISIANA. 
 BY CAPTAIN MAYNE REID. 
 
 AUTHOR OF " RIFLB RANQKRS," " THE WHITE CHIEF," " HUNTERS* FEAST," ETC., B*a 
 
 With Beautiful Original Designs, Handsomely Bound in cloth, 
 Price $1 25. 
 
 ANOTHER spirited and brilliant romance, quite equal in stirring interest, graphic dei- 
 *riptions of natural scenery, and truthful, vivid portraitures of character, to anything 
 ihe Captain has yet written, and little more need be said iu its favor. 
 
 There is a charm pervading these books which is to be found in few others and it liea 
 In that off-hand, dashing style with which the author carries his reader along with him, 
 through all sorts of perils, verging on the very brink of destruction, but invariably, by 
 gone happy chance, landing him safe on terra Jirma. Of course, this is easily effected in 
 a novel, and is wbat every writer aims at ; but, with most of them, the reader can never 
 lose sight of the fact that ha is reading, while in Mayne Reid s books the narration is so 
 blended with the action that we lose our identity, as it were, and all our faculties ara 
 absorbed by the scene bofore us, until we feel as if we ourselves were the participants in 
 the fight or foray he is describing. We subjoin a brief synopsis of the 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 The Father of Waters. 
 
 Six Months in the Crescent City. 
 
 The " Belle of the West." 
 
 The Rival Beats. 
 
 A Desirable Fellow Passenger. 
 
 Antoine, the Steward. 
 
 The Starting. 
 
 The " Coast " of the Mississippi. 
 
 Eug6nie Besancon. 
 
 A New Mode of Raising the Steam. 
 
 A Boat-Race upon the Mississippi. 
 
 The Life-Preserver Wounded. 
 
 Where am I ? " Ole Zip." 
 
 M. Dominique Gayarre. 
 
 ** Aurore." 
 
 The Creole and Quadroon. 
 
 A Louisiana Landscape. 
 
 My Journal. 
 
 A Change of Quarters. 
 
 Aurore Loves Me. 
 
 A Surprise A Rival 
 
 An Hour of Bliss. . 
 
 The " Nigger Quarter." 
 
 The Devil s Douche. 
 
 Gayarre and " Bully Bill." 
 
 "She Loves Thee." 
 
 Thoughts Dreams. 
 
 Stung by a Snake. 
 
 The Runaway. 
 
 Gabriel the Bambarra. 
 
 The Snake- Doctor. 
 
 Charming the Rattlesnake. 
 
 Killing a Trail. The Pirogue. 
 
 The Tree- Cavern. Hotel Gossip. 
 
 The Letter The Wharf-Boat. 
 
 The Norway Rat The Huma. 
 
 Jealousy. 
 
 A Scientific Julep. 
 
 A Game of Whist. 
 
 The Game interrupted. 
 
 The Sportsmen of the Mississippi. 
 
 The City. 
 
 Vente Import-ante De Ncgres. 
 
 Brown and Co. 
 
 Eugene d Hauteville. 
 
 Pity for Love. 
 
 On Games and Gambling. 
 
 The Faro Bank. 
 
 The Watch and Ring. 
 
 My Forlorn Hope. 
 
 The Rotundo. 
 
 The Slave Mart. 
 
 Bidding for my Betrothed. 
 
 The Hackney-Carriaj^. 
 
 To Bringiers Two Villians. 
 
 The Pawpaw Thicket. 
 
 The Elopement. 
 
 The Lost Mustangs. 
 
 A Night in the Woods. 
 
 Love s Vengeance. 
 
 Hounds on out Trail The Signal, 
 
 The Sleuth Hounds. 
 
 Th Man-HunterShot for Shot. 
 
 Love in the Hour of Peril. 
 
 A Terrible Fate. 
 
 The Sentence of Judge Lynch. 
 
 In the Hands of the Sheriff. 
 
 The Crisis. 
 
 Address all Orders to 
 
 ROBERT M. DEWITT, PUBLISHER, 
 
 13 FRANKFORT STREET. 
 
 W. H. TIN-SOW, Printer and Stereotype, Rear of 43 * 45 Centre St., PT. Y. 
 
topie Mailed, postag-e paid, on receipt of price. 
 
 VALUABLE HAND-BOOKS OF GAMES. 
 
 Price 38 Cents each. 
 
 MORPHY S MATCH GAMES; 
 
 Being a full and accurate account of his most astounding successes abroad, defeating, 
 in almost every instance, 
 
 THE CHESS CELEBRITIES OF EUROPE. 
 
 Edited, with copious and valuable Notes, 
 
 By CHARLES HE-NTRY ST A. IN" LEY, 
 
 AUTHOR OF "THE CHESS PLATER S INSTRUCTOR." 
 
 This valuable acquisition to Chess Literature contains a SPLENDID PORTRAIT 
 OF PAUL MORPHY, the Chess Champion of the World, engraved on Steel, in 
 the highest style of modern art, by J. C. BDTTRB, Esq., being an accurate and most per 
 fect transfer of one of BRADY S most successful Photographs^ together with a fac-simile 
 of MR. MORPHY S AUTOGRAPH. 
 
 ELEMENTS OP DRAUGHTS; 
 
 Or, BEGINNER S SURE GUIDE : 
 
 Containing a thorough and minute exposition of 
 
 EVERY PRINCIPLE, SEPARATELY EXPLAINED- 
 
 TOGETHER WITH MODEL GAMES ILLUSTRATIVE OF ALL THE OPENINGS. 
 
 Illustrated with Diagrams exhibiting critical positions to \>e won or drawn by scientific! 
 play. 
 
 BY I. D. J. SWEET, 
 
 PHAUGHT EDITOR OF " THE NEW YORK CUPPER." 
 
 CHESS-PLAYER S INSTRUCTOR; 
 
 Or, O-TJIDK TO BEGmsnsnmRS : 
 
 CONTAINING ALL THB INFORMATION NECESSARY TO 
 
 ACQUIRE A KNOWLEDGE OF THE GAME. 
 
 With Diagrams Illustrative of the Various Movements of the Pieces. 
 BY CHARLES HENRY STANLEY. 
 
 The above books are splendidly got up, and bound in flexible muslin their price 
 places them wUhin the reach of all. 
 
 ROBERT M. DE WITT, PUBLISHER, 
 
 FRANKFORT STREET. 
 
 W. H. TINSOM, Printer and Stereotyper, 43 & 45 Centre Street, N. Y. 
 
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