UC-NRLF B M 102 fl3b WORKS KENTUCKY COLONEL 95*6 A KENTUCKY COLONEL OPIE READ S SELECT WORKS Old Ebenezer The Jucklins My Young Master A Kentucky Colonel On the Suwanee River A Tennessee Judge Works of Strange Power and Fascination Uniformly bound in extra cloth, gold tops, ornamental covers, un cut edges, six volumes in a box, $6.00 Sold separately, $1.00 each. OPIE READ S SELECT WORKS A Kentucky Colonel A NOVEL OPIE READ Author of "The Carpetbagger," - Old Ebenezer," "My Young Master," "The Jucklins," " On the Suwanee River," "A Tennessee Judge," "The Colossus,"^ " Len Gansett," -Emmet Bonlore," "The Tear in the Cup and Other Stories," The Wives of the Prophet. ILLUSTRATED CHICAGO LAIRD & LEE, PUBLISHERS COPYRIGHT, 1889, 1890, BY OPIE P. READ. ALL RIGHTS RKSERVED ^> ^ fU VO A KENTUCKY COLONEL CHAPTER L THE WHITE TURNPIKE. MY affairs, if indeed it could be said that I had affairs, were in a condition to inspire a man with a desire to exchange a large territory of hope for a few acres of reality. I had just drifted, by the merest changing of a current, into Louisville, Ky., and, it seemed, by a sort of sudden arousal, found myself sitting in the rotunda of a hotel. I shall not enforce upon the reader the tedium of family history, neither shall I give in detail an account of my previous life. I had, as all my relatives declared, and as I strongly suspected, been pretty much of a failure from my earliest infancy; and now, at the age of twenty-five, I was a fair type of that class of Southern young men whose prospects of a life of thoughtlessness and ease had been destroyed by a decree which we all now cheerfully admit was issued by the God of justice. My early education had been impractical; my latter- day training had, as yet, been without result. I had been a clerk in a village store; had tried to keep books for a wholesale house: and lastly, had tried my hand A KENTUCKY CO^ONEj at reporting on a daily paper. The editor, I soon dis covered, was not in a position to appreciate an essayist. Ke wanted, not, he said, a man to chop down the sap ling of theory, but an active young fellow to dig up the root of fact. My thoughts were not pleasant as I sat in the hotel, for I had but a few dollars, and I could not help but look with a mild degree of envy at a fat old fellow, the owner of a brewery, doubtless, who lazily threw down a newspaper and waddled his way into the dining-room. Just then, a man who sat near me remarked to a companion: " Yes, as you say, the slightest circumstance some times changes the course of a man s life; a mere step ping aside, the reaching out of the hand, as it were. * I had reached over to pick up the newspaper which the fat man had thrown aside, and, smiling as I took up the sheet, I mused: " Perhaps that reaching out of the hand may exercise an influence on my life. Ah, here is a clue," I added, as I read the following adver tisement: \A7 ANTED An old gentleman, who has turned his attention to lit erary pursuits, would like to employ a man of education and experi ence to serve as an amanuensis. Apply at the Osbury farm, Nubbin Ridga pike, six miles from Emryville, Shellcut County, Kentucky. " Yes," I mused, in sarcastic comment on the con versation of the two men, " the current of my life is changed. Now that I have stretched forth my hand, drawn this newspaper to me and read this advertise ment, I must sit here and watch for the first signs of the revolution." Suddenly looking up, I saw that a man, whom I had A KENTUCKY COLONMt. J not noticed before, was closely watching me. I care not how unconcerned a man may be, there are persons whose espionage makes him nervous. I got up and walked out into the street, so determined was I to be rid of that peculiar look of scrutiny, but I had not gone more than half a block when, glancing back, I saw the gimlet-eyed fellow lazily skulking after me. I turned into another street. He followed me. I crossed a vacant lot, but he came on, skulk ing slowly. Finally, after going through an alley, only to find that he had followed me, I stopped, walked back a few paces, confronted the fellow, and asked him what he meant by skulking in my tracks. The ques tion did not in the least disconcert him. His coolness enraged me. " Who are you? " I demanded. "That is of no consequence," he replied. "The question is, who are you? " There has ever been a mixture of pride and individ ual satisfaction with self in our family, and with haughty, though, of course, foolish stress, I said: " My name, sir, is Philip Burwood." The name did not strike him with the least awe. Indeed, his countenance underwent no change; and, thinking his indifference arose from his having failed to catch my name, I repeated it. " I understand," he replied, in a voice as mild as act apology. " What s your business?" By this time my eyes were opened to the belief that I must be suspected of some crime, and that this man, if he were so disposed, could arrest me and lock roe g A KEfrTVe/ZY COLONKM* up. This was far from being a pleasant reflection; for, although, by means of telegraphing to friends, I could set myself right, yet it would be humiliating to have my relatives know that I had even been arrested on suspicion. I had no real business in the city; in fact, so aimless had been my wandering that a truthful statement would seem evasive; so, with a sudden im pulse, remembering the advertisement, I replied: " I suppose you have authority to question strangers, otherwise I should pay no attention to your impudence. I arrived in the city a few hours ago, and am on my way to answer an advertisement." " What advertisement? " As correctly as I could, I repeated the words of the " want item." Ah, hah, I saw that advertisement myself," said he. " In fact, I know old Remington Osbury. Ever see htm? " " No. What sort of a man is he? " " Oh, good enough sort of an old fellow. Seems to be well fixed." " Are you satisfied," I asked, after a few moments silence, " that I am not the man you want? " " Yes; but not so much by what you have said as by what I have seen. If yon are going out to-day," he added, " you d better be stirring your stumps, as the train for Emryville will be pulling out pretty soon." 1 had turned away, and was walking back toward the hotel, when the first serious thought of applying for the position of amanuensis occurred to me. " Why not give it a trial? " I mused. " I have no prospects of A KENTUCKY COLONEL. g securing employment here." I hastened to the hotel, got my valise, made inquiry as to the train I should take, and was soon rushing on my way toward Emry- ville, accompanied by that fondest of all companions hope. The weather was beautiful, in a season when the full-grown hickory leaf marks the deepening earnest ness of spring. I reached Emryville late at night. When I inquired for a cheap hotel, an economical precaution which necessity demanded, an old negro, with a large tin sign on his cap, seized my valise and told me to follow him. " Cheapes hotel in de city, suh," said he. " Boun ter be de cheapes , caze it s de only one yere." " In that event," I replied, " I am your man." " Yas, suh, but I thanks yer all de same. Er pusson neber loses nothin by bein* thankful. I foun er quar ter wunst an wa n t thankful caze it wa n t er dollar, an blame ef I didn lose it To night. Step dis way, suh. Sort o er hole dar whar de hpugs been er wallerin . " "Do you know where the Osbury farm is?" I asked. " Oh, yas, suh, mighty well. Hunted possums all Voun* in dat neighborhood To de wah. I uster b long ter ole man Eli Carter, dat libed at de foot o de ridge. Step dis way, suh. Lot o lumber scattered ober dar. Boys tore it down ter git er rat out frum under it. " " You are acquainted with Colonel Remington Os bury, I suppose?" " Mighty well, suh. Uster own my wife in de siabc time." sart &f & mm is JO A KENTUCKY COLONEL, " He s er cuis pusson, suh, ef dar eber wuz one in dis heah worl , but folks do say he smart." The hospitalities of the little hotel to which I was conducted were presided over by old Major Patterson, a man with so flowing a courtesy that he seemed ever to have just made a bow or to be in contemplation of making one; and who was so delicate of expression that he always said limb when he meant leg. He had been a sort of well-fed under-quartermaster in the army, with the rank of second lieutenant, hence his present title of major. " I want you to make yourself at home, here, suh," he said, when he had conducted me to my room. "This country is on something of a boom at present," he added, when he had placed a lighted candle on the bureau. " Coming out of the kinks mighty peartly, suh. Did you come with the idea of locating among us? " When I had explained that I was going out to the Osbury farm, he said: " Ah, I know the old Colonel mighty well. Smart, suh; smart as a whip. He can turn his hand to any thing. Tell you what he done: Took a notion some time ago that he would write. Pitched in and done it like a flash." " Successfully? " I asked. "He did, and nothing shorter, suh. He showed me what he had wrote one day, and I wush I may die dead ef I couldn t read it mighty nigh all without my specks Oh, I tell you what s a fack, Osbury is a remarkable man. Well, he s got a chance to be. Got a fust-rate farm and money out at intrust, I reckon. So you re A KENTUCKY COLONEL. \\ going out there? Sorter kin to the old man, mebbe." " No; I am not related to him." " Reckon you air some printer that has come after his writin . Well, you ll find him a mighty commodatin man. The local option people have sorter got this town by the horns. Don t reckon youVe got a bottle with you." He snuffed the candle, grinned at his reflection in the looking-glass of the bureau, grinned at me, broke out into a sort of a wheezy laugh, a sort of damaged chuckle, and then said: " If you ve got a bottle you neenter be afeerd to pull it out where I am. The Lawd in heaven knows that I wouldn t repo t you," he impressively added, when I assured him that I had no bottle. Early the next morning the Major came to my room, and, with another one of his damaged chuckles, told me that he had secured a bottle after long persuasion with an old fellow who had come to town to serve as a jury man. He made no reference to whisky or brandy, as if such broadness of speech were in ill comport with his established delicacy of expression, but seemed to think that the mere mention of * bottle " should give entire satisfaction. When I told him that I had forsworn the use of intoxicating liquors, he dre w his hand across his face, as if he would wipe off a disappointed expres* sion of countenance, and said: " Well, if that s the case, I reckon the best thing you can do is to come down and eat a snack." * After breakfast I asked the Major if he could send me out to the Osbury 17 * KENTUCKY COLCKEl. " Bless your life," said he, with an air of regret, " I don t see how I can. If I had knowed yesterday mornin that you was comin , I could have sent you out on my buckboard, but I hired it out to a land hunter." " There s a livery stable in town, I suppose. " Uster be one here one of the best in the country owned by a gentleman named Dobbins. Had a bay team that would have suited to a t. Them bays could trot, I tell you. Bought them from old Anthony Philpott when he sold out to go to Texas in seventy- one. Got them at a bargain, I tell you. Stable burned down about two years ago, and the bays got burned, along with Dobbins brother and a young feller named Hanks that was asleep on the hay. Dob bins never did git over the loss. Sence then he has been town marshal. Well, suh," he answered, with another chuckle, " it s the nachulest thing in the world for a man after he s been in the livery stable bus ness to run for town marshal, and he s elected mighty nigh ever time. If you want to see if you ken git a team, I ll go round town with you." " I have about decided to walk," I replied. " Well, now, that ain t a bad idee. You ll find a good deal along the road that s interestin to a man that likes nature and a good artickle of spring water. The pike runs all the way to Osbury s, and stops a little beyant there at the foot of the ridge. Ever now and then, before you git there, you ll think the pike is goin to be stopped by the spurs of the ridge and knobs that air scattered around t but keep on, and you ll A KENTUCKY COLONEL, 13 find that the pike winds around somehow. Wush 1 had nothin to do, for I d like to go with you; but you see I m kept on the jump here all the time." I so much attracted the attention of the villagers that they crowded about the " piazza " of the tavern to get a glimpse of me. Every man who had a lot for sale and it seemed that they were all land-owners, and consequently much interested in the growth of the " city" pressed forward to have a word with me and to assure me tl at if I had an idea of settling I could not do better than to stop in Emryville, among people who, as an anxious old fellow expressed it, were the " best folks on the top side uv the Lordalmighty s green yeath." Some of them followed me out to the edge of the town, stopped me on a stone bridge that arched a small stream, and, with deepened earnestness, besought me to consult a vital interest which lay so close to me, but which, by a little negligence on my part, might pass forever beyond my reach. At school I had won distinction as a debater, and, suddenly encouraged by the recollection of this, I began to plead my cause, but they trod upon my argument. Finally, in a tone of voice that left no doubt as to my sincerity, I told them that if mountains were selling at two dol lars apiece, I could not buy a mole-hill. A white dust instantly arose on the " pike; " the town lot " boomers " were stalking toward borne. There is nothing mort beautiful than a Kentucky day when spring is warmtd into blushing loveliness by the approach of summer. The turnpike, smooth and white, stretched out in a wavering line as far as J4 A KENTUCKY COLONLL. I could see. On each side of the road there lay broad farming-lands, with here and there a rugged knob, a sort of hiccough, it seemed to me. I had gone but a short distance when I saw a tall, lank fellow skulking along, weaving from one side of the road to the other. I soon discovered that he was kicking an oyster can. Once, the can, upon receiving an ill-directed and unin tentionally vigorous kick, flew over a rail fence and startled a lark from her dewy bath. The fellow stopped, cast a calculating glance at the fence, hesitated a moment longer and then climbed over. He took up the can, climbed back, carefully placed it on the turnpike, looked ahead as though making a sort of calculation, and then gave the can a resounding kick. By this time I had overtaken him. " Good morning," said I. He turned with a start as though I had rudely broken his meditation. His face bespoke a nature of indo lence, and his eyes looked the drowsy picture of lazi ness. He was stoop-shouldered, his legs were dispro portionately long, and his feet were of unusual size. I noticed him thus closely, because in him I recog nized a type of a shiftless and irresponsible class of natives. " Mornin ," he answered, and then looked toward the can as though unable to decide whether to continue his association with it or to cultivate my acquaintance; but his mental struggle was brief, for, turning to me, he remarked: " Ef you air goin* my way I ll jine you." " All right; come on." \ 5 . KWTUCXY COL&N&JL * Mighty putty weather/* he said, as he cast a well glance at the can. "Yes, beautiful." " I oughter be plowin , right now/ he added, with a tone of anxiety in his voice. " I pitched out to town yistidy airter tellin* my wife that I wouldn t be gone long, but I m jest gittin back. I live a little this side uv Colonel Osbury s." " I am going to his house," I answered. " Sho nuff ? Wall, then you can do me a mighty big favor you ken drap in at my house won t take a minit." " What for ? " I asked. He took off his white cotton hat, humped his shoul ders, reached down between his long neck and shirt collar, pulled out a raveling, and then said: " To tell my wife that I couldn t git away frum town no sooner." 4t But I don t know that anything kept you in town." " You ken tend like you do, kain t you? Wife, she ain t in good health, an* I don t want her to think I would stay away on my owr acco d. Help me out, Mr. what mout your name bt - " I told him. " Wall, then, help me out, Mr. Burwood, an mebby I kin help you git outen a scrape some time. Dinged ef I oughtenter be plowin right now. Been a-breakin up some terbacker land whar clover s been fur a year or two, an dinged ef it don t smell as sweet as a pie when you turn it up to the sun. I ll tell you suaip n ef yets won t say nothin about it. Promise? " 1 6 A KENTUCKY COLON&L* " Yes." He came closer to me, and, in a hoarse whisper, said: " I was chuck up last night. Got a bottle from a feller an* whooped it up with the ole Major that runs the hotel. Lost my recollection summers, an didn t find it till about daylight this mornin . I don t feel so bad, though. Wnen a feller has hil* off from licker fur a good while an then gits at it, w y, it don t pizen him right at wunst. Coin* to stay in this part uv the country? Sho nuff ? " he added, when I had told him that such was my intention. " Wall, then, I reckon we ll see a good deal uv each other, but we ain t ap to be sich mighty friends unless you sorter help me patch up things with my wife. I oughter be a-plowin f this minit." By this time I had begun to regret that I had over taken the fellow, for his nonsensical prattle was nerv ously annoying. The scenery, more rugged than the lands that lay closer to town, was beautiful with the sort of freshness that suggests a day of wideawakeness following a night of perfect rest. Here and there a long rib from the hills a ridged spike that looked like a sturgeon s backbone shot out into the tillable land. These backbones were covered in some places with scrubby oaks; and sometimes a cow in a clover field, suddenly made furious by an attack of flies, would rush up into the gnarled bushes as if her breakneck impetuosity would destroy her tormentors. But when I turned from my annoyer to watch the lace-like shadow of a fleecy cloud flying across a field, or when I sud- A KENTUCKY COLONEL. ij denly stopped to look at two rabbits cutting coquettish capers in a corner of the fence, he would irritate me with some grating remark would want to know if I had ever wrestled with a " yaller feller named Wes what lives in town," or " how would I like to lie down in the shade and stay there as long as I wanted to." " How far are we from Osbury s? " I asked, intending, if the distance were more than a mile, to stop and wait until my " discordant accompaniment " was out of sight, " We ken see the house when we skelp the top uv the rise yander." When we did "skelp the rise," as he expressed it, I saw, away off to the right, a large and old-looking brick house. It was situated on a gently rising hill, and was surrounded by tall trees. I shall never forget my first glimpse of that house. Impractical even unto a ro mantic fault, I fancied that it must be a castle, pro vided with a moat and drawbridge, and, hurried into a reverie, I had begun to discern a tower and a sentinel, when my companion snatched me back to Kentucky by remarking that he should be plowing that very minute. " Well, go on and plow! " I exclaimed. " But will you stop at my house yander it is, that cabin right down thar an tell my wife that I couldn t git away frum town no sooner?" " No. " " Wall, then, whut you reckon it s best fur me ter do?" " How the deuce do I know? " t I g A KENTUCKY COLONEL. " I didn t know but you mout have a fam ly yo se f. Hold on a minit. Tell you whut I ll do. I ll slip around to the stable an git my team an go to plowin* without lettin her know that I m on the place. Wall, good day. Ef you settle down in this part uv the country, drop over an see me some time." A few minutes later I passed his house, and saw a large woman standing in the door, with her hands on her hips. In the yard, near the fence, there sat the most pitiable child I have ever seen. Pale, white- haired and ragged, with a smear of molasses and ashes across its face, the little thing sat marking on the ground with a stick. I saw that heart-moving face many and many a time after that day, but no experi ence that may come to me in my after life can blot out without blotting out reason itself the memory of the last time I saw that pale child. CHAPTER II THE MINT JULEP. COLONEL REMINGTON OSBURY gave me a tight- gripping welcome. He did this even before I had given my name or stated my business, showing that he was a true Kentuckian with a sort of miscellaneous and unanalytical courtesy. When I went up, the old gentleman was standing at the gate. He was rather large, and was somewhat above the medium height. His face, with the exception of an almost white, short and bristly mustache, was clean-shaven, and I noticed that his eyes were intensely black. Character was written all over him, 1 thought ; indeed, there was, it seemed, so much character that not all of it could be strong. He took my valise, and told me to walk right in and make myself at home, I made several attempts to tell him my name and to state why I had come, but he kept gurgling out, like a well-filled demijohn, so in cessant a flow of welcome that I could say nothing. This excessive, this unheard-of courtesy to a stranger puzzled me until I discovered, upon being shown into the library, that the old fellow had been amusing him* self with mint juleps. " Colonel Osbury, my name is " " Yes, suh, yes; glad to see you. Let me make you 29 * KENTUCKY COLONEL. a julep. All my people have gone on a sort of feed expedition over at one of the neighbors . Sort of a marriage there, too, I think." " No, thank you, I don t drink anything," I replied. " Oh, yes, you do; oh, yes. Now, let me show you how to make a julep. Jupiter, you know, broke the jug that contained the nectar of the gods when some fellow had given him a sip of a julep. Jube was a sen sible fellow. Now, here, see this mint ? You want to pick the sprigs off this way. The commonly-held idea that you must crowd down the stems is a fraud. Drink this." I drank it. When he had made another julep, he sat down on a leather-covered lounge, sipped the per fumed drink, and then, placing the tumbler on a table near at hand, said: " I m going to lie down here now and go to sleep. Billy call you Billy, anyway light that pipe up there and hand it to me, will you ? Thank you," he added, when I had complied. " Now," he con tinued, " let me sleep ten minutes, and I ll be all right. " I sat there gazing at him. The pipe fell on the floor. The Colonel was asleep. "A befitting candi date for literary honors," I mused. " I fear that I am chasing a wild turkey with a lap-dog. What if his people come back before he awakes and should find me here? " The Colonel snored. I could hear the hens, moved to minstrelsy by the sunshine, singing in the yard, and the occasional neigh of a horse startled me into a nervous fear that the other members of the A KENTUCKY COLONEL. 2 1 household were returning. I sprang to my feet Some one was knocking at the door. No, it was only a dog scratching himself on the porch and bumping the floor with his " elbow." At last, having grown bolder under so many false alarms, I became sufficiently quiet to look about the room. Many shelves, well filled with books, revived my hopes. After all, the Colonel might seriously contemplate a literary per formance. Several old paintings hung on the walls, one of which was especially noticeable that of two men bending over a handsome fellow who lay on the grass. A case of surgical instruments, and a carriage disappearing over the brow of a hill, told the story of a duel. The room was heavily furnished, and the broad fire-place, with its large brass andirons, spoke of a day when the probable scarcity of wood entered not into the calculations of household econ omy. On each end of the mantel-piece there sat two plaster-of-paris kittens, with red eyes and blue mus taches, and I noticed a large turkey-wing fan hanging near the fire-place. The Colonel continued to snore, and I, turning from the pictures and the many marks of a long-ago farm house, gave myself up to a closer study of his face. His forehead was of that gracefully receding type so often seen in old prints, and his nose was aggressively prominent, but his chin lacked strength. He was ap parently about fifty-five years of age. The farm-life sounds, which seem to attain a sort of ripeness when the full-grown red-oak leaf marks a seri ousness in the age of spring, came with reverie-inspir- 22 A KENTUCKY COLONEL, ing influence into the room. The alarming cry of a hen proclaimed the near approach of a hawk ; the scream of a hawk bespoke a gnawing keenness of appetite ; the ducks " quacked," and a turkey gobbler sent a hollow echo down into the woods. The Colonel muttered, rubbed his eyes, sat up, and, seeing me, started. " Colonel," said I, " you have enjoyed your nap, I hope. " He looked at me, and, by a puzzled expression on his face, I knew he was trying to recall the circum stances of my arrival. " Yes," he replied. " Let me see, I believe your name is Yes," he added, when I had told him, " I remember now." He did not remember, for this was the first opportunity which he had given me to make myself known. His puzzled expression, instead of fading away, grew deeper. " Pardon me, Mr. Burwood, but I received you all right when you came, didn t I ?" "Oh, yes." " Well," the puzzled expression grew deeper still, " what I want to get at is this: Did I make a fool of myself? Could you see that is, did you detect that I was a little the worse for having having beguiled a lonesome hour with a companion blast it all, did you think that I had been drinking too much ?" " No," I replied with a soothing lie. The puzzled expression vanished. The Colonel shook hands with me, opened a door that led into a hail, shook hands with me again s and hinted $ in a deli- A KENTUCKY COLON .1, 2| way, that he would like to know what he could do for me. I spoke of the advertisement and handed him several letters of recommendation. He read them carefully, and then, as he returned the papers, nodded his head in approval. " Some time ago," said he, " I took up the idea of writing a history of Shellcut County ; not with the in tention of going into dry detail, but to give, in con nection with necessary facts, numerous anecdotes characteristic of our old-timers. Thus far I have done very little work on it because I have not been able to secure the necessary help. I have been, especially during my later years, considerable of a reader, but I don t understand the knack of writing a thing as it should be set down. My people have laughed at my attempts shall I make you a julep ? " " No, thank you," I replied. " Well, I ll make myself one. Well," he continued, busying himself with the mint, " I decided that I would get an amanuensis. I put in an advertisement wait a minute, Mr. Burwood. Before we go further, let me ask you a question. Were you ever amanuensis to George D % Prentice ? " " No," I replied. Good. Well, I put in an advertisement, and pretty soon there came along one of the worst-looking fellows I ever saw, a tramp printer. He said that he was the very man for the place, having served for many years as amanuensis to Prentice. I didn t like his looks, of course, but, thinking that I had found a soiled gern 24 A KENTUCKY COLONEL. that had fallen from the casket of a poet, I securer him. He was capable, there s no doubt about that, but the rascal got drunk and wallowed around for four days. He explained that he was getting steam up in preparation for a brilliant run. Finally I made the boys hitch up the wagon and haul him off. Then there came a respectable-looking fellow. He had also served Mr. Prentice. He got drunk and came near setting the house afire, so I shipped him. Now, suh, I m glad that you have never worked for Prentice." He had made the julep and was sipping it. Sud denly he leaned to one side, and, glancing through a window, he exclaimed : " Yonder comes that trifling and no-account Jack Gap. Well, suh, I ll warrant you that Kentucky has more shiftless fellows than any State in the Union. All they care for is to drink licker and talk about women and horses. Come in." Some one had knocked at the door. My irritating companion the can-kicking lout who had thrown dust into the eyes of a beautiful morning stepped into the room. He bowed with awkward humility to the Colonel, grinned at me, and, as he stood wadding his cotton hat between his dirt-begrimed hands, said that he thought he would " drap over." " I had a little round in town last night, Colonel this genTman yere ken tell you all about it, an* " " I don t know anything about it! " I exclaimed. " All I know about you is that I overtook you on the turn pike, and regretted having done it." " That s all right, podner. Yas," addressing the A KENTUCKY COLONEL. 2 j Colonel, M I had a little round in town with the old Major last night, an* was all right till awhile ago, an f then I got shaky; so I lowed that ef I was to come over yere you mout give me a mild snort, as the feller said at the log-rollin , to brace me up a little." " Jack Gap, I wouldn t give you a drop of licker to save your life. You are a disgrace to any civilized community, and especially so to your family. Go on; you can t get anything to drink here." " Didn t want much," Gap continued, still wadding his hat. " Jest wanted enough to brace me up agin that clover sod." " Not a drop! " the Colonel thundered. " Wouldn ter been sotrimbly in the knees ef I hadn ter run across the field and clim up on the fence to see Lark Moss an* Pert Sawyer racin down the pike. That little bay mar* uv Lark s picks herself up like a deer, 1 tell you. When he traded fur her I thought he got bit, but he didn t." " Let s see," the Colonel said, musingly, " who did he trade with?" " Wy, with Boyd Savely." " That s so. Boyd s not as careful as he should be But which horse beat? " " W y, Lark s clim right away. " " Did, eh? How far did they run? " " Frum beyant the mile post way up to tbc eljutr tree." " Hum. And Lark beat him ? " " Yes, an* I woulder been all right ef I hadn ter run across the field " 26 * KENTUCKY COLONEL. " There s whisky in that black bottle/ said the Colonel. " Thankee.* 1 He poured out a tumbler nearly full, drank down the liquor at a gulp, wiped his mouth on his hat and turned toward the door, but stopped before reaching it, and *hen said : " Bout as putty a race as I ever seen, but ef I hadn ter run so I woulder been too late. Tires a man out might ly, I tell you. That s good lidcer." He took another drink and stalked out " Now," said the Colonel, " let us get down to busi ness. You are, I see by your recommendations, a son of the late Jasper Burwood, of North Carolina. Good family. You are willing to undertake the great task of writing, partly from my dictation, and partly with your own ingenuity, a history of Shellcut County, are you? " "Yes, sir." " What will such a piece of work be worth ? " he asked. I have no idea. I don t know how large a book it may make. " " Hum. Tell you what I think will be the best : You may draw, as we go along, what money you need provided it s not too much and then, when the work is finished, we can decide upon what it is worth. Satisfactory ? " 11 Perfectly," I answered. Indeed, almost any arrangement would have been satisfactory to me. A dog barked, a horse neighed, and sounds of voice* came from without. ^ KENTUCKY COLQNBl* gjy "The folks are coming," said the Colonel " Oi course, they do not know but that I have been expect* ing you for several days, and that I have had cor respondence with you. Women folks, you know, are peculiar devilish peculiar at times." I did not at that time catch the full meaning of his precaution, but afterward I saw that the " women folks " were disposed to make sport of the old gentle man s easily gulled simplicity. There were noises in the hallway, rapid talking and hastening footsteps, but above all I caught the entranc ing music of a joyous laugh. A few moments later, and I was sitting in the family circle. Let me recall the scene let me bring back witl the eye of recollection the faces and forms of that household. There was Mrs. Osbury, the Colonel s wife. I know that the expression is shop-worn, that it is fading and that its edges are frayed, but I must say that she was motherly. Blue-eyed and pale, yet vigorous, she impressed me with her air of gentle solicitude, a solicitude without the blighting shadow of hypocrisy; an earnest inquiry after the health of persons whom she met, a real interest in the affairs of other people. Yet there was about her a quiet and charming mischief not a mischief, perhaps, but a years-ago liveliness that had been softened into a love of sad fun. I now see, as it conies up before me, the face of old Buck Hineman. He was the brother of Mrs. Osbury, and was an old fellow with gray whiskers and a reserved air; a stout old man with an expression of 28 ^ KENTUCKY COLON&U disappointment, but, withal, that sudden leaning toward a confidential outburst so often met with among men who have become determined to be reserved a talkativeness which means to produce the effect of a profound silence. Who next? Yes, a young fellow, a twenty-year-old boy with a fresh face and delighted eyes. I say delighted eyes because it seemed that everything delighted that boy. Every thing amused him. He broke out in genuine laughter over anecdotes which I should have sneered at; and even in his noisiness there was a spontaneity of good feeling that would have been ill-timed among men who had seen anything of life. Now there comes a creature of whom I must speak with caution. Why? Because I do not wish to set myself down, at the very opening of a recital, as a weak-minded fool. Luzelle. What a name! I can not rather, I will not undertake to describe that girl. Oh, what eyes, and I was a fool, I do not deny that. What a mouth! She was not tall, but there was a condensed grace about her. She was not beautiful, but there was a thrill in her movements. Not beauti ful? Yes, but there was something more than beauty. When she looked at me, I trembled; when she spoke to me, which she did occasionally during that evening, I actually shook, so powerful an influence had she upon me. I called myself a fool, and tittered to myself as a simpleton. I denounced myself as a dunce, but felt an intellectual quickening in contemplation of her beauty. Yet she was not beautiful, and I knew it; but, scorning beauty, she surpassed it. She did not like A KENTUCKY COLONEL. 2 g me I saw that. Did she take stock of her unculti vated grace and laugh at me because I could not help but gaze upon her with a yearning eye? "No, she did not like me, for she found no interest in what I said. Once she snapped me up with a keen witticism, and, in trying to reply, I made myself a dunce. Then she laughed, and even the old Colonel, who had shown him self to be so courteous a host, chuckled with a prideful titter and changed the subject. Never before had I acknowledged myself a hopeless fool. I tried to reason with myself. I tried to recall the many times I had met brilliant women, but my efforts fell as dry as sticks in a luminous shower. Bed-time came. A fool went up the stairs. I know that he was a fool. He could have been nothing else. In a room of reproachful comfort I thought it was reproachful because I found so much bodily ease and so much mental disquiet I lay thinking of that face. This is neither the record of a wise man nor the effort of a literary aspirant, so I may be excused for an expression of foolishness. I lay there quite a nat ural performance thinking of what might befall me. Should I fall in love with that girl why mention a thing so palpable? Why, hang it, I was already in love with her. To what extent? To the extent that I was a fool; that s all. Why do I recall these details? That I wish to make this simple statement what it should not be, a sensa tional recital? No, I am far from that. I do not know why I have made this statement in fact, I do not know anything. I do not know why I thought of ^o A KENTUCKY COLONEL. many things of that Louisville detective, especially. What a mark that fellow was destined to make on my life! Do I wish now that I had not met him? Per haps the fever of recollection has too much of an influence upon what should be a quiet recital. I lay looking at the moon that gazed through the window. I thought of the change that had recently come unto me of many faces that I had seen of one face, in particular. Yes, of a thrilling particular. " I will cease to think," said I, as I pulled up the covers that night. "I wonder if that girl but I will not wonder. I will compose myself to sleep. I will not be a fool." Yet I could not help but think, " Shall I influence that girl?" I was a romancer, remember a romancer to the extent that I thought a certain fate lay in every smile. I am a wiser man now. But what has this to dv^with my experience in this neighborhood? CHAPTER III. A YOUNG MAN S SECRET. FROM a sleep of wearisome dreaming I awoke with a start. What a field of unsatisfactory labor do we find in dreamland. What feverish energy do we waste in following a road that suddenly fades away; what serious undertakings, pushed to the very verge of accomplishment, suddenly spring aside into the ridicu lous. A dying old man, to whom we are handing a cup of water, jumps out of bed and dances a grotesque jig, while an overworked horse, that we pitied, climbs upon a fence, strikes a match and contentedly smokes a pipe. I clutched at a thousand ragged and flapping ends of dreams that night, hoping to bind them into a bundle of consistency, but, eluding me, they continued to flap and flutter in a chilling wind of incongruity. " Luzelle," I said, aloud, and then, startled at the sound of the name, raised up and looked about the room. " I will go down that stairway a more sensible man than I was when I came up," I mused. " I per mitted myself to be taken by surprise. I suffered my eyes to be dazzled by the glaring light of a smile. " I tried to arouse my sense of the ludicrous, but it was drowsy, and sprang not up at the shaking I gave it. I tried the self-cajolery of inherited pride, but found myself repeating the name of a girl who at that 32 A KENTUCKY COLONEL. time was, no doubt, serenely buried amo.xg the roses of a morning nap. Foolish thought? Oh, yes, I know it now. Indeed, a few minutes ago, while look ing over the manuscript of this wayward history, I was tempted to change the latter part of the preced^ ing chapter, but then I remembered that the mere writing of it brought back to me the feelings of that night, brought back the night itself. The mused-over recollection of a scene through which we have passed makes us smile, or tremble, or blush, for parts of our lives are lived and lived again. So, desiring to be truthful, even at the expense of appearing ridiculous to the cool-eyed, I decided to let the sentences remain as written when the feeling of retrospection was strong upon me decided to give no after touch of reason and no taming tone of thought. Just as I had finished dressing, some one tapped on the door, at the same time asking if I were up. " Come in," I answered, recognizing the voice of young Osbury. He came in, smiling. " I didn t want to disturb you," he said, " but I didn t know but you might like to go and look at my colt before breakfast. I never rode him but once, and he ain t bridle-wise yet." I thought, " Hang the colt!" but as I was capable of lying^ even though it brought inconvenience upon myself,^ replied that I should be delighted to see the animal. At this his face brightened, and in his manner there was instantly shown a sort of affectionate leaning toward me. I knew then that his friendship could be won or repelled in a moment. He went to A KENTUCKY COLONEL. 33 the bureau, tapped the marble sJab with a comb, took iip a match, struck it, blew out the blaze, and then, ;vith rather an embarrassed air, turned to me and said: " If I show you something, will you say anything about it?" " Not if you want it kept as a secret." " Won t say a word about it to pa or Uncle Buck?" "Not a word." " But you might tell Luzelle." "Nc, I won t." " She s got a way of making folks tell things." " Your secret shall be jafe with me." " Wait, then, till I come back." He hastened out of the room, and soon returned with A photograph. I reached out my hand to take it, but hv held it a moment longer, and even looked about to se if any one had entered the room during his minute s absence. When I took the picture he blushed. I looked at the card and saw the face of rather a hand some woman, apparently twenty-five years of age. " Who is she?" I asked. " Now, you won t tell anybody?" "Nobody." " Her name is Ella Mayhew. None of the folks </rer *aw her; don t know that there is such a girl. She teaches school about fifteen miles from here. I *}*, * he proudly added, taking the photograph, " You S6 she has written on this side: For Fred only. If the folks knew anything about it they would give me a going-over, because they d think she s too oW for me but she ain t. Do you think so?" a 34 A KENTUCKY COLONEL. " She doesn t seem to be," I replied, wondering when I should have a chance to tell a truth. His eyes glowed with grateful delight, and, grasping my arm, he said: " I am glad you came here. I liked you as soon as I saw you. They talk to me " nodding Hshead toward the door " about going to college, and all that, but I ll tell you what s a fact: it wouldn t be any use for me to go to school now. Why, I tell you what, I take up a book sometimes and read page after page, and then look away, and don t know a thing that I ve read. You see, there ain t no use in a feller fooling away his time when he s in that sort of a fix." " You can read poetry, I suppose." " No, I can t," he answered. " Can t do that, even. It s too slow. Feller tries to tell me what he feels when I know a deuced sight better than he does. I don t even care to look at flowers. All I want is to sit down by her and let her sing to my soul." " Does she sing?" I ventured to ask. " Oh, not what folks would call singing. She is a song herself. Why, it seems like every time she speaks she sings, and every time she moves her hand she touches a guitar. Well, now, let s go down and look at the colt. I didn t think it would be treating her right to show you the colt first. Wait in the hall till I lock this picture up." We went to the stable and looked at the colt. Fred asked me, as he lifted up one of the colt s feet, what I thought of his general points. I saw no points at all, but I told him that they were excellent, whereupon he praised my judgment, and promised, as a reward for A KENTUCKY COLONEL. 35 my good sense, that I might, at some future time, ride the petted animaL When we returned to the house we found old Bucl^ Hineman walking in the yard. He was in his shirt sleeves, so pleasant was the morning, and walked with his hands held behind him. He looked the very pict ure of meditative reserve, but I soon discovered that he was ever ready to crack the shell of his silence, and that one of his social aims was directed toward the discovery of an opportunity to say something. The breakfast bell rang. The Colonel met me at the dining-room door and greeted me heartily. When we sat down to the table, Luzelle was missing, but just as I had begun to speculate on her absence, and while I was doubtless returning absurd answers to sensible questions, she glided gracefully into the room. She sat opposite me, and was no more embarrassed by my presence than if I had been a hundred miles away. I gradually mastered my agitation insomuch that I was enabled to make a more rational estimate of her appearance and presumable character. Her hair was a mass of black ringlets, of ringlets so well defined that not a straggling strand of hair was visible. Her face was a graceful oval, and yet there were lines of character about it. I could not determine where, yet I knew that they existed. " Mr. Burwood," said the Colonel, " after breakfast we ll ride over the farm. I hold that a man, in order to write, must know something about his surround ings. Don t you want to go, daughter?" " No, suh," she answered, 36 A KENTUCKY COLONEL. " Got anything else to do?" he asked. w No, suh, but I just don t feel like going." " Girls don t feel like doing anything these days," old Buck spoke up. " There was a time in Kentucky when a girl could weave cloth and kiver corn at plantin time, if needs be, but now things are changed. " " Yes," said Luzelle, " there was a time when girls In Kentucky were clodhoppers." " Oh, never mind about that," old Buck replied. " Thar was just as good-lookin girls in Kentucky thirty odd years ago as thar is now. Don t fret about the clod hoppers." " I m not fretting," said the girl. " You are the one that s doing the fretting, Uncle Buck." " Well, well," remarked the Colonel, " let it all go let it all go. Good girls then, good girls now. That settles it. " " Mr. Burwood," said Mrs. Osbury, slyly looking at her daughter, " were you acquainted with George D. Prentice?" " No, I was not," I answered. The Colonel took a noisy swallow of coffee. " I am told," Mrs. Osbury continued, " that at differ ent times he employed quite a number of men to do his writing for him." " Yes, I have heard so," I assented. The Colonel dropped his knife with a noisy clang. "And some of them, I understand," said Luzelle, * were extremely bright fellows, but given to drink. I think that I saw somewhere that one of them had to be hauled about in a wagon." A KENTUCKY COLONEL. yj m Now, look here," said the Colonel, " I want you to let that drop. Hang it, can t a man make a trifling mistake without being everlastingly annoyed by it?" " Remington," said old Buck, " I think you ve got some mighty stupid books in your library. I took one down this morning, but couldn t get the hang of it, Wrote by a feller named George Eliot. Called * Theo- phrastus Sich/ I think." " * Theophrastus Such/ you mean, don t you? Luzelle asked, looking up with a smile of mischief. " Oh, well," old Buck snorted, blushing at the same time, " if you want to call it Such/ you can d* so. When I was a boy and folks was honest, sich was good enough for people that didn t I ave to borry from the neighbors every time they wanted to get a bite to eat; but now that everything is gittin* to be Yankeefied, we have to twist up our mouths and say Such/" Here old Buck stuck out his mouth. " Ah, Lord, these times, these times! I ve heard old Tom Marshall say * sich/ but" nodding his head at Luzelle " this was before everything was Yankeefied." After breakfast, while the Colonel and I were waiting for the horses to be brought around, old Buck took seat on the gallery and began to blow a long yellow flute. His playing, I soon noticed, had not the trem ulous tenderness of the melancholy notes blown by Copperfield s poverty-depressed tutor; indeed, I do not think that old Buck could have successfully competed with Midas of Acragas. Luzelle ran up-stairr,, Fred disappeared, and the Colonel, turning to me, said in an undertone: 38 A KENTUCKY COLONEL " Buck drives everybody off the place with that d d flute. I trod on it once, and thought I d mashed it all to pieces, but he stuck it up with shoemaker s wax, and the next morning blew his brains out, as usual. He ll sit there now till the sun strikes him; then he ll move about three feet down the gallery. Then he ll play till the sun strikes him again, and then he ll move. In the summer he follows the shade all around the house. Come, here are the horses." We passed through a large gate, held open by a negro boy, and thence down into the woods, still cool with dew. Here and there a yellowish patch of May- apple stalks lifted their broad leaves, affording shade for the toad and the high-land terrapin. The black berry briars were shedding their white caps, and the red-bud tree, in full bloom, blazed against the hillside. The woodpecker was shrieking at the top of his shrill voice, and a frisky yellowhammer flirted with his image in the spring-branch. A snake, sunning himself on a log, licked out his tongue, then, tumbling off, hurried noisily away through last year s leaves. The rain-crow cried, though he had no need to, for everything was <resh; and the squirrel, with a hickory bud in his mouth, ;an along the path as though thrilled with his adventure, and then, scampering up a tree, threw a piece of bark at us as we passed under him. We went through. another gate, and rode into the field, where the men were planting corn. A negro boy, with nothing on but a shirt, sat under the alders in a fence corner, play ing with a lazy dog that slowly beat the ground with his tail, Numerous blackbirds flew about in seeming A K&NTUCKV J7 confusion, but each one had his eye on the sack of seed corn setting " squushed" down in the turn-row. In the damp places, where the soil had broken up cloddy, negro women were covering corn \vith hoes, alternately singing and almost profanely condemning the boys for not having dropped the corn in the " check." As we rode along we carne upon a negro sitting under a persimmon tree. Huhat, half-covered with an old red handkerchief, lay on the ground. He arose when he saw us, and, brushing the dirt from the seat of his jeans trousers, said: " W y, good mawnin , Col n, good mawttin , sah, Lookin* mighty well dis mawnin an dat udtfer gene* * man is, too." " Isom," said the Colonel, bedding &. &d?ere glance upon the fellow, " what are you doing here in the shade ? Why ain t you at work ? " " Sick dis mawnin , sah. * M Nonsense, you are as healthy a* a steer. You can t expect me to keep you when you lie around this way. What s the matter with you? " " Wall, sah, de truth is, I we/it ober ter Steve s sil ver weddin las night, an* " " Why, Steve hasn t been marned more than a year/ the Colonel broke in. "I know dat, sah.** * How, then, could he have a silver wedding? " * Dat wuz his erfair, sah; I didn* git it up nur man age it. I went ober dar, I did, an 1 he fotch out some atuff dat he called prune braady, I drinked it putty I did, &&*, JU&w* er massy,, how I did feel dit * KENTUCKY COLONEL. an* Fs sick ez er boss dis minit. I looks at er thing er minit, an den says, Ahah, an* hatter turn away. I knows whar dar s er nigger dat s got some stuff dat would brace me up, an* ef I jes had er quarter f d get some, an* den I d make dis yere dirt fly like er harrycane gwine ober it." " You trifling rascal, do you expect me to give you money when you do everything you can against my political interest?" " I didn know dat I d done nothin ergin you, sah; To deLawdldidn ." " Didn t you and your gang vote against Evans for sheriff when you knew full well that I wanted him elected?" " He wuz lected, sah. " " Yes, but not by your assistance. ** " Wall, now, lemme tell you; we didn vote ergin him so mighty hard. S l, Boys, vote ergin dis white man saft an easy saft an easy, boys, caze Col n Osbury want him lected/ an den de boys da voted easy, an ef da hadn t, sah, he woulder been beat, sho. Mighty anxious ter git dis piece planted To it rains, an* if I jes had er quarter " "Here," said the Colonel, tossing him a twenty-five* cent piece. " Thankee, sah. Dirt gwine ter fly now." A negro boy took down a pair of draw-bars, and we passed into a clover field, where fat cows and frisky steers were feeding. The view, from a gently rising hill, made my pulse quicken with a quiet delight. Na ture s poem a sun-illuminated manuscript. Yonder - A KENTUCKY COLONEL. 41 a gentle slope where the meter was smooth and easy- flowing in a love scene; farther away, where a spur of the ridge came down, there arose, it seemed, the rugged lines of tragedy. We passed along a fence near which Jack Gap was plowing, or rather where his team stood, lashing at the flies. " I wonder where that trifling rascal is ? " said the Colonel. " I ll be blamed if it isn t like pulling eye- teeth with a sore thumb and a mashed forefinger to get anything done. Yonder he comes." Gap climbed a fence, bordering the woods, and came toward us, increasing his gait as he ap proached. When he came up to the fence where we had halted, he was panting as though he had been running a race. " Been asleep, Gap?" the Colonel asked. " Asleep! " he repeated with emphasis, removing his hat and raking the perspiration from his brow. " No, I hain t. The dogs treed something over thar in the woods jest now, an* I lowed that it mout be some sort uv a varmint that ought to be killed, so I went over." " What was it? " " I couldn t find out. Well, you gentlemen must excuse me. I ve got ter work." We passed out upon the turnpike, and as we slowly rode along, the Colonel began to tell something of himself and of his family. " You were a colonel in the army, were you not? " I asked. "Yes. in the Confederate army. I was a hot? 42 A KENTUCKY COLONEL. headed secessionist, but there is one thing that I am proud of in fact, I don t know but that I was proud of it all along and that is the fact that old Kentucky did not go out of the Union. Thank God it is all over now and settled as it was." " Was Mr. Hineman in the army?" " Well, no, I can t say that Buck was. He made a number of secession speeches, such as they were, and declared, I remember, that he would die for the cause, but well, he didn t die. He had an idea years ago that he was an actor, and, to tell the truth, I don t think he has given it up yet. He belonged to a sort of tenth-rate company once, and afterward tried to organize a company of his own. I told him one day that I didn t think he could ever learn to play Hamlet, and, suh, he got mad and wouldn t eat at the table with me for more than a week. He has had trouble, Buck has. He lived in Indiana for a time, and while there only two years ago, I believe fell in love with a handsome young woman. She con sented to marry him, either returning his affection or believing that he was wealthy, but, just as the ceremony was about to be performed, the sheriff of the county stepped in and arrested her on a charge of stealing a horse." "What! "I exclaimed. " On a charge, suh, of stealing a horse. Buck hadn t known her very long;, she having recently en gaged board at the house where he was staying. Then he hurried back to Kentucky, and since that time has mainly devoted himself to his appetite and his /lute." X K&KTUCKY COLONEL. ^ wondered if he would say anything about Luzelle. " I have another son," the Colonel continued after a few moments silence. " Henry is his name. He lives ia Ernryville and pretends to be in the real estate business, but he isn t doing anything. In fact, he doesn t seem to care to. Always was a peculiar boy, full of odd fancies, and with a feverish love for old books. " " You have have but one daughter," I inquiringly remarked, and then, fearful that he might catch sight of my face, which I felt had grown blood-red, I turned away as though looking at something far off in the blue distance. " That s all," he replied. " I wanted to call her Susan, after my sister, but Mrs Osbury, having seen the name Luzelle somewhere in some foolish book, doubtless would not hear to Susan, but insisted upon Luzelie. I had to give in, but after all it doesn t tiake any difference. Luzelle is a strange child, in pme things. I sent her to Europe last year, as it is jtiite the thing for a Blue-grass girl these days, but she rarely speaks of her trip." " Better that than to be always making disparag ing comparisons with regard to her own country," I remarked, " Oh, yes, I think so. I didn t know but she would come back despising Kentucky, but our hills and fields seem to be just as fresh as ever to her. She went with a distant relative of mine who took over a number of young ladies, and, of course, enjoyed herself. I Fred to go, but he doesn t care to do anything. " 44 A KENTUCKY COLOXEJL We passed Jack Gap s cabin. The pale child was playing in the yard, marking on the ground with a stick. When we had gone through the big gate, opening out on the turnpike, and were approaching the ho ise, the hollow wailings of old Buck s flute were borne to us on a breeze that brought sweetness from the lilacs in the garden. " The old man is holding an extra session to-day," the Colonel remarked. " He appears to be long-winded," I answered. " You don t know him. If he should attempt t$ chop a stick of wood he d pant like an excited lizard, but he can blow that old flute all day." Ah! Gorgon, whose dying shrieks, the Grecians said, suggested the invention of the flute, how much better, considering the abuses of thy suggestion, it would be hadst thou continued to live, even following thy bent of turning to stone the curious folk that hazard a look at thee. " Buck, are you most through with your per formance? " said the Colonel when we had gone upon the gallery. "Oh, Iftwiquit." " You can, eh? I didn t know that.** The old fellow put his flute up on a shelf, and, holding his hands behind him, strode down into the yard, casting occasional glances at the sun, to form an idea as to the nearness of the dinner hour. After dinner, the Colonel, old Buck and I sat in the library and smoked. I heard Luzelle singing io 4 KENTUCKY COLONEL 45 the parlor; then she played, on the piano, a madly- tangled tune, it seemed to me; and, yielding to a sudden fancy, I saw a horse, harnessed to a buggy, tearing wildly down a hill. A woman in the buggy shrieked and shouted for help, but the horse dashed onward, through an open gate and under a tree where children, in a circle, were singing a May-day song. The woman sprang out, and, as though she had gone through no frightening experience, joined the circle of children. I listened eagerly to catch the words of their strange song, but suddenly they vanished, leaving an ash-heap under the tree. Luzelle had ceased playing. After awhile the Colonel went to sleep on the leather-covered sofa, and old Buck I was every minute afraid that he would seize his flute and blow the dying wails of the Gorgon paced up and down the room. In spite of his attempted and pretty well carried out dignity, there was something comical about his pudginess. He had but a fuzzy sprinkle of hair on his head, and was, withal, so far from being of pleasing form and features, that I doubted if the young woman who stole the horse had not supposed him to be wealthy, instead of having returned his affection. " I like good music," he said, still walking up and down the room, " but you don t hear much of it in this country. Luzelle can play after a fashion, but you ought to have heard a girl that I knew in Indiana. She could knock the socks off of anything I ever saw." " Friend of yours? " I asked. 46 A KENTUCKY COLONEL. " Well, hardly a friend. Beautiful girl run out of Louisiana by the yaller fever. I ll tell you about her some time." I saw Luzelle standing out at the yard gate. I went out, with an assumed air of carelessness, and joined her, or rather went up to the fence near the gate. She was humming a tune. " It has been a beautiful day," I remarked. She lifted her chin from the top bar of the gate, shook back her ringlets, and replied: " Yes, rather." " Your father tells me th<u you have been to Europe. " " Yes, "she said, looking at me with a sort of pity ing surprise. " It was not a difficult feat. " " Did you enjoy your trip ?" " Partly. " I saw that I could not interest her on the subject of Europe. I would try books, the rarely failing appeal to the good graces of an intelligent woman. " Do you read much ? " I asked. " Not very much." " You like novels, of course." " Some of them." "Scenes in * The Vicar of Wakefield, " I said, " were brought up before me to-day when I contem plated a meadow and a hedge, down the turnpike." M I prefer American novels," she responded. " You like Howells, of course," said I. " Yes, I like him, but still I quarrel with him. His touch is delicate and delightful, but, instead of going A KENTUCKY COLONEL. 47 to the East and touching the cold and unthrobbing Plymouth Rock, why did he not remain in the West and touch the warm heart of emotion ? " This was the first time that she had shown even the slightest feeling in response to any remark that I had addressed to her; and, catching sight of her face anew, I stood dumb in rapt admiration of her perfect loveli ness. Some one on horseback opened the big gate and jame, in an easy gallop, toward the house. As he drew near, I saw a gracefulness and ease that almost angered me. He rode up to the gate, and, after making a pretense of striking at Luzelle with a switch, dismounted, tied his horse and came into the yard. " Mr. Burwood," said the girl, " this is Mr. Boyd Savely." We shook hands. He gracefully dropped into a commonplace conversation ; I awkwardly stumbled into it. He was a tall, slender young fellow, with rather a pale face and with large, clear gray eyes. He was dressed with the measured negligence of that semi- rakishness so often seen in Kentucky, and wore one leg of his trousers hanging on his boot-top, as though, in his attention to other matters, he had forgotten to pull it down. His clothes were gray, and his broad brim hat was white. His hair was long and inclined to waviness, and as we stood talking, he would, every now and then, take off his hat and throw back his head with a shake. " I was expecting you this evening," said Luzelle. " I didn t say I was coming, did I? " 48 A KENTUCKY COLONEL. " No, but I thought it was about time." 14 Where s the old man?" " Asleep, I suppose." " Well, let s go and sit down." She and Savely turned toward the house. I stood looking after them, despising the fellow s graceful swing. After ascending the steps, just before en tering the front door, he took off his hat and threw back his head with a shake. CHAPTER IV. PECULIAR CHARACTERS. I STOOD at the gate, madly jealous and sick at heart, for the relationship between Luzelle and Boyd Savely was too plain to be mistaken. Again did I attempt to reason with myself. "Why should you care?" I almost fiercely demanded of myself. " You are a mere acquaintance. You have known her but a few hours. If you have no more strength than you are now commanding, you cannot, in this life, attain any thing that approaches success." The house had lost its castle-like pretensions. It was simply a large brick house, with stone steps at the front door and with a long gallery on one side. The negro cabins at one end of the yard began to, look mean, and the stables had become so unsightly that I wondered why they had not been pulled down. I went into the woods, and, after strolling about aimlessly, sat down on a log. The sun had set, and, in the stillness of evening s approach, I could hear the low murmur of the distant creek. Night birds vent ured from their hiding-places and flew away, and a screech-owl, sitting in the fork of a dead oak tree, looked down, muffled himself and uttered his tremu lous and chill-inspiring cry. The stars came out, jewels in the crown of her majesty the Night, and the 4 49 A KENTUCKY COLONEL. !Ightning-bugs, in hopeless imitation, glowed where the grass was damp. I thought of many old poems, of many silly ones, too, but even in my soreness I did not disregard the truth that one of the greatest of all poems night in the woods lay about me. I heard a fox bark, and then I heard him jumping. The sly rascal was making a false trail the wily politician was disguising his record. I started back toward the house. Stealing into the very bosom of nature had calmed me. While standing for a moment on the gallery, I heard Luzelle talking to some one in the back hallway. " I don t know why he didn t come to supper," she said. " It is a rare case when a man misses anything to eat." Deed it is, honey. " Luzelle was talking to old Aunt Harriet, the cook. " I don t think I ever saw a man who didn t regard his appetite with tender respect," Luzelle continued. " Cose da do, honey; cose da do, but we oughtenter blame em fur dat, caze ever body like ter eat. Does merse f, sometimes. I ain t got nuthin ergin dat white generman, caze I doan b l eve he hard ter cook fur, nohow." " Oh, no," Luzelle answered; " he is an inoffensive sort of fellow. " " He ain t er bad-lookin pusson; still, I ain t settin* him up ergin Mr. Savely." 1 would have gone directly to my room, but I met the Colonel in the hallway. " Why, Mr. Burwood, where have you been? We A KENTUCKY COLONEL. 5 I looked everywhere for you at supper-time. Let s go into the dining-room and see if we can t skirmish up something to eat." " No, I am not hungry," I replied, pausing at the foot of the stairway. " No trouble at all, I assure you. Mary," Mrs. Osbury had come out of the parlor, "here is Mr. Burwood, and he declares that he doesn t want any supper." " Oh, that won t do, Mr. Burwood," she said, with a tone of persuasion in her voice. " You must eat some thing, and then come into the parlor, for we have visit ors. I don t know where the girl is, but Luzelle can wait on you." I protested, but it was of no avail, for, at the bidding of her mother, Luzelle came. She did not appear to be pleased, and I stammered many apologies, but, with true Kentucky hospitality, she laughed at my protests. Ma likes to put little responsibilities upon me," she said, when we had entered the dining-room. " But she should not have called you away from your company." " Oh, they are only home-folks. Now, let me see what we have. Not much of anything, I believe." What the deuce did I care whether or not there were a morsel? I didn t want to talk about anything to eat. I wanted to talk of poetry. I wanted to say, " Stab me with this carving-knife." I wanted to fall on the floor and tell her to step on me. I well, I didn t to eat, but I made an ungraceful pretense of eat- C|2 A KENTUCKY COLONEL. ing. She sat with her arms resting on the table, and, as I looked at them, I mused: "Ah, to be choked to death by those arms would be an euthanasia that a god might pray for." " I have been down into the woods," said I. " Have you?" she asked, without interest " Which way?" " Off to the left of the turnpike." " Did you hear a bell? " " No," I answered, with a flush; " did you ring for me at supper-time? " " Oh, no; my little cow failed to come up this even ing, and I didn t know but you might have heard her bell. Pa gave her to me when she was a calf, and I have nursed her almost ever since. Let me give you some more coffee." " No, I have plenty, I thank you. The woods are beautiful at this time of year. " " Yes," she replied, taking her arms off the table and smoothing back her hair. " Full of poetry," I remarked. " Yes, and snakes," she rejoined. I wanted to butt my head against the wall. Was it impossible for me to interest her ? " Your uncle does not seem to think that the young ladies of to-day are equal to those of years ago." " Uncle Buck cannot realize that this is 1884 instead of 1849. He remembers his keen enjoyment of life when he was young, and, not knowing that much of his lack of pleasure results from the fact that he is getting old, finds fault with things of the present. Pa A KENTUCKY COLONEL. 53 is not that way. There is none of the old fogy about him." When we went into the parlor I was introduced to Miss Annie Bumpus, Captain Joe Jinny and Major li Hammonds. Miss Bumpus life spanned many wheat harvests, yet she affected the ways of a kitten. To her everything was delightful, or magnificent, or awful. She had buttermilk eyes and raveled-rope hair, a long neck, a thin chest and I happened to notice long and shapeless feet. Contrary to what one might expect, her complexion was not pale, but was of an uneven reddish brown, and was subject to many variations. She was unquestionably in love with Joe Jinny. Major Eli Hammonds reminded me of an old goat, and so strong a hold did this fancy take upon me that I should not, at any time, have been surprised had he cried, " mick, mick," and then rammed his head against the wall. He was getting along in years, and his whiskers were streaked with gray. He was inclined to be nervous, and would occasionally shift his position with a sudden jerk. When he chewed tobacco, which he did almost incessantly, he worked his jaws like a goat, and when he wanted to spit, a desire which came to him whenever a remark was addressed to him or whenever he wanted to say anything, he would grasp his whiskers with one hand, " duck " his head about, and then spit at the fire-place, regardless of distance. He was from Virginia, was proud of his family, and was fondly waiting, I soon learned, for some relatives to die and leave him an estate. None of his relatives had CA A KENTUCKY COLONEL. estates, but in his easily encouraged trustfulness he believed that at least one of his people would become rich and then die as a matter of duty. He lived in a rented house and transcribed deeds in the county clerk s office in Emryville. Captain Jinny had been a private in the Confederate army and had lost his leg at the battle of Manassas. He had been compelled to submit to so close an ampu tation that art could not, in the way of wood or cork, come to his assistance, so he walked, and rather grace fully too, with one crutch. His head and face were large. He was not tall, and hated the idea that he was gradually increasing in flesh, and, above all, loathed the fact that he was becoming bald. Some one had told him that he resembled the late Louis Napoleon, and immediately afterward he strove to heighten the resemblance by training his whiskers and mustache after the fashion of the emperor. Indeed, so studious did he become in this direction that he kept a print of Napoleon hanging near his looking-glass, so that, in making his toilet, he could truthfully follow his pattern. He was extremely neat in dress, and wore his coat- sleeves shoved back so that he might show his spotless cuffs. He kept a jeweler s shop at Emryville, and, having come from Virginia, boarded with Hammonds. While we were discussing a subject which seemed to have awakened general interest, Jinny, suddenly break ing off, turned to Hammonds and said: " Eli, if you was in Norfolk to-night, what would you t>rder?" Hammonds grasped his whiskers, " ducked his A KENTUCKY COLONEL. 55 head, spat at the fire-place, wiped his mouth, and, while an expression of deep thought was sitting on his face, answered: " Well, Joe, I d go down to old Billy s you know where he keeps?" " Mighty well. Been there a thousand times." " Well, I d go down to old Billy s and I d first order a dozen broiled." " But wouldn t you order a dozen raw first, Eli?" " Yes," said Eli, smacking his mouth, "I believe 1 would. I d order a dozen raw and then a dozen broiled." " Yes," said Joe, smacking his mouth and then comb ing his mustache with a nickel-back comb which he took from his pocket. " And then," Eli continued, " I d order one of his famous stews. Then I d set there and live like a king. Joe, if you was in Norfolk to-night, what would you order?" " Well, Eli, I d go down to old Billy s" " Yes," said Eli, grasping his whiskers, spitting and then smacking his mouth. " And first order a stew, I believe." " No," Eli declared, " a dozen raw." " Well, yes, a dozen raw." Colonel Osbury moved his chair over to where I was sitting, and, in an undertone, said : " These fellows would talk all night on that subject. We ll have to break it up, or we shall all be transported to Norfolk. Ah, Hammonds," he added, aloud, " how is business in the clerk s office?" 56 A KENTUCKY COLONEL. " Sorter slow at present." "Business good with you, Jinny?" " Well, I tinker on a watch now and then." "Have you tinkered on mine yet ? " Boyd Savely asked. " No, haven t got quite up to it yet." " You ve had it thre~ weeks. " " Come, now; not that long." " Yes, and when I left it you declared that you d have it ready for me the next day." 14 Well, I ll get to it pretty soon. By the way, can t we have some music ? Miss Annie, won t you sing and play for us ? " " Really, I sing so little that I am out of voice," Miss Annie declared. The persuasion became so general and so fervent that Miss Annie seated herself at the piano. She sang a stirring ballad, beginning with, " Come, all ye Texas rangers, wherever you may be, a story I ve to tell you which happened unto me," and ending with some thing in relation to the fearfulness of a bloody charge Her high notes made even old Buck wince, while Fred, glancing at me, snorted, and then cleared his throat to disguise his mirth. " Come, give us something else," Savely cried. He had talked to Luzelle during the entire time of the previ- )us performance. " Really, Mr. Savely, you must excuse me." " How s that ? " Savely asked. He had turned to Luzelle, and had even forgotten, it seemed, that he had asked her to sing. A KENTUCKY COLONEL 57 "I say you must excuse me." " Oh, no, you must sing. Go ahead." Then she sang something of a speculative nature in ivhic^ she wondered if he would coir ..e to her again. It was one of those old-fashioned songs with faded sentiment, and was so ludicrous in its avowed desola tion that even old Buck grinned. Eli seized his whisk ers with a jerk and spat at the fire-place, and Colonel Osbury, who, I could see, wanted to laugh, leaned over and said: " She is quite a literary woman, Burwood. Ah, Miss Annie," the song was finished, " what is the name of that continued story you wrote for the Emry- ville Falcon?" " * The Baron s Daughter; or, The Whispering Duke. If you would like to read it, Mr. Burwood, I will bring over the papers containing it." " Haven t you brought it out in book form ? " I evasively asked. " No, not yet, but Cap t Jinny has promised tc take it to Louisville for me the next time he goes. You read it, didn t you, Mr. Savely?" * Not all of it. I missed two or three numbers ol the Falcon, and then had to let the story go." " I ll lend you my copies," she said. " Oh, no," Savely rejoined, " I ll wait till the book comes out. By the way, Colonel, when are you going to begin on the History of Shellcut ? " Bright and early to-morrow morning," the ColoneJ answered. 58 KENTUCKY COLONEL. " The country is gettin* to be terrible literary/ said old Buck. Mrs. Osbury, glancing mischievously at the Colonel, said that George D. Prentice must have had something to do with it, and Luzelle asserted that at least an amanuensis of the poet must have exerted an influence. " Now, missie/ said the Colonel, " it is your time to give us some music. Sing that half-savage song you picked up somewhere while you were away from home." Luzelle went to the piano. She said something in an undertone, and then looked up at Savely who had followed her with a quick smile. The next moment I sat in a thrilling trance. I lost sight of every one in the room every one except Luzelle. I was borne away on the painful pinions of hopeless love and jealousy, and when the song was hushed, I was brought back, it seemed, with a heartless jerk. We again indulged in conversation, and there were occasional outbursts of laughter, but I do not remember a word that was spoken. I saw Luzelle smile, but she did not smile on me. I was excited and tremulous, and a sudden stir told me that the visitors were taking theii leave, but to me all faces were alike all except one face that charmed me. I went to bed feverish and heartsore, and lay listening to an owl that hooted in sarcasm of all earthly yearning. A midnight " rooster " uttered his ringing notes; a night hawk screamed in defiant reply. A clumsy black bug flew around the room and struck the wall with a dismal bump. A dog barked, and then nature sank to sleep. CHAPTER V. THE HISTORY UNDER WAY. IMMEDIATELY after breakfast, the next morning, the Colonel and I began our literary labors. Old Buck was ordered to take his flute into the woods, if he could not forego the temptation of blowing it, and a procla mation of " S-h-e-e " was issued throughout the house. The Colonel, after drinking a mint toddy, took a roll of manuscript from a book-case, looked it over, and said: " Burwood, I think we d better begin anew. This stuff seems to be too much devoted to the character of the soil. We want to begin with something more lively. We might start with Shellcut s organization as a county, and then write up a fight between the first county judge and the first sheriff. The judge was killed, and then his son took up the fight and killed the sheriff. Don t you think that ought to make a good starter ? " " I think so," I answered. " Well, just say that, after much squabbling in the legislature, the county was organized in 1826, and then go right into the difficulty between the judge and the sheriff. Fix it up in a sort of exciting way. " " What were the names of the officers ? " I asked, " Let me see. Hanged if I know. Hum, I did know* Is it necessary to know their names?" m 60 A KENTUCKY COLONEL. " Yes, if you want your book to bear the stamp of truth." He walked up and down the room, meditating pro foundly, and then, after drinking another mint toddy (of course, asking me to drink, but which I declined), sat down, stretched out his legs, thrust his hands deep into his pockets, and, in a self-condemnatory tone, remarked: " Why didn t I think of this last night while Ham monds was here ? Well, leave the names blank, and we ll fill em out afterward." He then gave me, in detail, an account of the fight, and, after lying down on the sofa, said: " Go ahead, now, and get that down, and, in case I should drop off to sleep, wake me when you get it finished. " I rather enjoyed the writing, for, having been idle so long, work had become agreeable; and fancy, yielding to demand, came generously to my assistance. I threw in many little details, and painted, with more or less effect, many pictures which I thought might please the old gentleman. The dinner bell rang. I continued to write, and the Colonel continued to sleep. There came a gentle tapping at the door. " Come in," I called. Luzelle entered. She had evidently been riding, for her cheeks were aglow, and in her eyes there seemed to be the lingering excitement of a wild dash on horse back. " Is pa asleep ? " "Yes." " Is that what he calls dictating ? " A KENTUCKY COLONEL. 6 1 " He dictated before he went to sleep, and I, remembering what he said, have written it." " Let me see," she said, advancing and taking up a sheet of manuscript. " You write a very good hand, * she added. " How long has pa been asleep ? " " Who s asleep ? " the Colonel asked, sitting up. " You have been, haven t you ? " she asked. " Haven t slept a wink," he rejoined. " I ve been lying here thinking." " Well, dinner is ready." " All right. You go ahead, and Mr. Burwood and I will come when we have looked over our work." Luzelle withdrew, and the Colonel asked me to read the first " stagger" (as he termed it) at the " History of Shellcut." I did so. He was delighted. " Why, suh," said he, " that reads like a novel, but it is true, every word of it. Oh, we ll make folks open their eyes, I tell you. By George, suh, I didn t know you understood the situation so well. Come, let us eat dinner, and then we ll rest awhile." Day after day our work went forward, with constant delight to the Colonel and with something of a pleas ure to me, for the close and almost self- forgetful em ployment of writing drew my mind, as much as any thing could, away from a gloomy brooding. Playful spring was sobered into earnest summer, and the young mocking-birds were learning to fly. From across the fields there came the song of the plow-boy, and at evening, when the twilight was slowly settling into dusk, the black martin caught the lady-bug. 62 A KENTUCKY COLONEL. I no longer made an effort to interest Luzelle. She treated me with courtesy, but in her manner toward me there was none of the friendlinesss which daily association should inspire. Mrs. Osbury was kindness itself, and, with motherly earnestness, she strove to make my surroundings pleasant. Old Buck, too lazy to go to the woods, blew his flute in the corn-crib. He muttered against the hardship to which he was sub jected, and on one occasion declared that unless the " fool history " were soon completed or burned up, he would leave the place. " A man may be a fust-rate feller," he said, addressing me, " but just let him begin to write something, and he thinks it s the duty of every body in the neighborhood to go off somewhere and sit down and not say anything. I k .iow it was that way with me once when I was writing a play." " Did you finish the work ?" I asked. "Yes." " What became of it ?" " Feller stold it, and since that time at least a dozen plays have been taken from it. You see, I sent it to a manager, and when I called for it he pretended that he couldn t find it. Shortly after that I noticed a change cropping out in the American drama, all owin , I could see plainly, to my play. Don t say anything to Remington about it. He would swear that I was a fool to be robbed this way, and I reckon I am, but how am I to help myself?" The old fellow actually believed that he had been deeply wronged. Jinny and Hammonds came over occasionally, and A KENTUCKY COLONEL. 63 never failed (sometimes during an animated discussion) to ask, " If you was in Norfolk to-night, what would you order ?" It made no difference whether it were morning or noon-tide, the question varied not to suit the time. It was always, " If you was in Norfolk to night." Miss Bumpus brought " The Baron s Daughter; or, The Whispering Duke," and after telling me that I must read it and give her my " unbiased opinion," reflected a moment, and said : " No, I will not put you to the trouble of reading it. I will read it to you." But she did not, for the Col onel came to my relief. " My dear Miss Annie," said he, " you do yourself an injustice. No man can put the proper estimate upon a thing he hears read. He must read the lines himself must pick out the striking points and read them over again and again." One morning, Fred came into my room, before I had gotten out of bed, and asked if he might tell me a deep secret. "Yes," I answered. " And you won t say a word about it? " " Not a word." " I feel like I ought to tell somebody, and yet I hang fire. I have been to see Ella Mayhew a good deal lately. I haven t told her anything about my folks. 1 was afraid that she might get scared." " There would be nothing to frighten her," I responded. " Well, there may not be, but it seems to me like 6 4 A KENTUCKY COLONEL. there is. Now, you have promised not to say a word, haven t you? " "Yes." " Well, we are going to get married." 11 Not very soon, I suppose." "Yes, to-day." " Look here, young man, you d better speak to your father and mother about it." " No, I am not going to say a word. Somehow, I haven t got the nerve to do it. " " But bringing your wife home, without having spoken a word regarding your intention, will require still more nerve." " No, it won t. It might for some fellers, but it won t for me. When I introduce her as my wife they can t say anything." " Fred, this is a very serious matter. " " I have thought it all over time and again," he replied, " and I can t come to but one conclusion, and that conclusion will be acted on to-day. I know that she is older than I am, but I love her, and that settles it. Remember your promise." I continued to remonstrate with him, but I saw that it was useless. Shortly after breakfast old Buck took down his flute and went to the corn-crib, but soon returned, bringing back with him, in addition to his musical instrument, an excited air and an expression of anger. " What s the matter ? " the Colonel asked when old Buck came bustling into the library. KENTUCKY COLONEL. 65 " Why, Fred s hitching old Tom to the buggy and says that he s going to keep him nearly all day." "Well, what of that?" " What of it ! Why, I want to go to Emryville after dinner." " Can t you take some other horse ? " " I always drive old Tom, and Fred knows it. I don t like to be treated this way, I can tell you that. Here I ve been workin like a nigger for the last five years and haven t hardly been off the place, and now that I want to go away for half a day s rest, I it s a d d shame, Remington, that s all ! " " Go on, Buck, and blow your flute," the Colonel replied, struggling with himself to suppress his laughter. " Blow my flute ! " Buck roared, " blow my" He wheeled around and struck the mantel-piece with his flute, and, startled by the probable ruin of his instru ment, exclaimed, " Merciful heavens, what have I done !" 11 You have smashed that yellow torturer, and I am glad of it," the Colonel rejoined. " I hope not," old Buck answered, " but 111 fix it if 1 have." He hastened away. " Worked like a negro!" said the Colonel, and then shouted with laughter until the tears rolled down his cheeks. I was nervous during the day nervous because I knew of an approaching event that would be likely to startle the Osbury family, and more than once I was tempted to prepare the Colonel for the coming sur prise, but, remembering my promise, spoke no warn- 6 66 A KENTUCKY COLONEL. ing word. Late in the afternoon, while the Colonel, Mrs. Osbury, Luzelle, old Buck and I were sitting on the gallery, I saw a buggy coming toward the house. I said nothing, but Luzelle, seeing the vehicle and recognizing it, remarked : " Yonder comes Fred, and there is some one in the buggy with him. A woman, I think." " I wonder who it can be?" said Mrs. Osbury. " One of the neighbor girls, doubtless," the Colonel answered. " No matter who she is," said old Buck, " I don t care to see her, for Fred made me mad this mornin , and I don t propose to be bowin an scrapin to people that he brings here. " Old Buck went into the house. By this time the buggy had reached the yard gate. Fred helped the woman out, and, with a boldness which I scarcely expected, conducted her toward the house. When they reached the steps, Mrs. Osbury advanced to meet them. "Mother," said the young man, "this is my wife." " What!" yelled the Colonel, springing to his feet. "Your wife!" " Yes, my wife." Mrs. Osbury, who now stood leaning against a post, having staggered back when Fred made his startling announcement, attempted to say something, but, fail ing, covered her face with her hands and sobbed. "What do you mean!" exclaimed the Colonel, addressing Fred s wife, who stood without apparent A JCEtfTUUK-Y COLONEL- 6) embarrassment, taking off her gloves. " I say, what do you mean by coming here this way?" " I mean that I am Mr. Osbury s wife, sir." " And a bold wife, I must say," said Luzelle, step ping forward. " Mother, don t take on so. If he is married it can t be helped." The woman bowed gracefully, and, addressing Luzelle, replied: " My husband did not tell me that such a warm greeting awaited me, but " " What s the matter here!" exclaimed old Buck, coming out on the porch. " Fred married! Why My God, Remington my God, this is the woman that I was to marry! This is the woman that stole the horse!" " You are a liar!" Fred vociferated, springing for ward and shaking his fist in his uncle s face. " You are an old liar, and if you dare say another word against my wife, I ll choke you to death!" The rest of the family stood in speechless amaze ment. " Who is that violent old man, Fred?" the woman asked. Having taken off her gloves, she was now rolling them into a ball. " He is very disagreeable." " Leave my house! " thundered the Colonel. " Get right out, this minute ! " " Father, if she goes, I go," the young husband re plied. " Then go! " the Colonel exclaimed. " Oh, no, Remington, do not drive them away," Mrs. Osbury implored. " There may be some mistake. Do not drive them aivay." 68 A KENTUCKY COLONEL. " Go!" the Colonel demanded, waving his hand to ward the gate. " Come, Ella, we must go," the young man said; " we cannot live here." Mrs. Osbury sprang forward, threw her arms around Fred, and sobbed upon his breast. " Turn him loose, Mary," said the Colonel, gently removing her arms, " turn him loose. Now, go, and don t you ever bring that woman here again." Mrs. Osbury attempted to follow them to the gate, but the Colonel restrained her. When the buggy turned toward the big gate, Mrs. -Osbury sank down upon the floor. The Colonel, down whose cheeks tears were flowing, took her in his arms and carried ke^ into the house. CHAPTER VI. A NURSING OF SORROW. AN atmosphere of sadness hung about the house; the 11 History of Shellcut County " was laid aside. Several days passed before Mrs. Osbury left her room, and when she did appear (at the supper-table, one eve ning), her pale and haggard face bespoke the depth of her sorrow. The Colonel, by many acts of attention and by many words of soft endearment, strove to soothe her. " Don t worry," he would say; " don t grieve, for, mark what I tell you: Fred will be back here inside of two weeks." " No," she would declare, " not unless you let him bring his wife with him. You know he is proud and independent." " That s all well enough, Mary; that s all well enough. Everybody s proud to a more or less extent. He ll come in some day about the time the dinner-horn blows come in with two or three tucks in his appe tite. He s an Osbury, you know; so much of an Osbury that hell strike a trot toward home when his appetite begins to pinch him." " Remington, you ought to be ashamed of your self to talk of the poor boy that way." " Why, I ought not to be ashamed to say that he 09 JQ A KENTUCKY COLONEL. has sense enough to come home when he is hungry. Don t worry, now; he ll be back pretty soon." " If he had intended to come back so soon he wouldn t have sent for his clothes." " Well, he sent back, you see, from Emryville, while he was still excited, and at a time, of course, when he had no intention of coming back." " But how do you know that he has such an inten tion now ? " " He may not have it yet, but he will. Don t you worry don t wear yourself out this way." By slow degrees the Colonel persuaded her to share his view, or, as I was inclined to believe, his pretended view, but even after she had granted that he was doubt less right, she would occasionally upbraid herself for so soon yielding to words of consolation. Even in grief the most unpretentious of us shallow mortals are some times proud proud that we have a nature that almost refuses to give up a sorrow. One morning I sat on a bench, under a clump of lilac bushes in the garden. There had been a shower the night before, and the hollyhock, which, a few days previously, had seemed to be ill-dressed and care-worn, was now bright and almost impudent in a suit of velvet. I had boarded the noiseless train of half-listless thought and was gliding away along that road which crosses many rivers, but whose terminus we never reach, when a voice threw the train off the track. Looking up, I saw Luzelle standing in the path a few feet from me. She wore a soft, cream-colored dress, rather low in the A KENTUCKY COLONEL. 71 neck, and as she stood there I fancied that she was the spirit of the garden s freshness. " Did you speak to me ? " I asked. " Yes," she answered, " I spoke twice, but you did not appear to care whether or not you answered me." That remark gave me a new glimpse of her char acter. My seeming indifference had awakened her interest. " I did not hear you," I replied, with forced care lessness. " I was thinking." " Oh, you were ! The History of Shellcut County, no doubt, requires much study. It is twenty-six miles one way and fourteen the other, and cannot be covered by mere musing." " What is twenty-six miles one way and fourteen the other ? " " The county, of course." 11 I didn t know but you meant the history." " Oh, no; the history may be as long, but I don t think that it is nearly so broad." Inwardly I winced under her sarcasm, but, pleased with the thought that I had somewhat aroused her, I managed to maintain my outward show of careless ness. " Histories are not so broad as some other forms of literary work," I replied, " for they are mainly records of the narrow transactions of men. Women are so far above the shallow limitations of historical com position that no great history has ever been written by a woman." " At least," she rejoined, coloring slightly, " no 72 A KENTUCKY COLONEL woman has ever attempted to write the history of a mere county." " Which is no doubt well for people who hold the county s scrip. " But at the expense of truth," she replied. " And perhaps at the expense of interest," said I, " for the county s history, written by a woman, would, of course, be gossipy. 5 " " At any rate, there would be something in it," she asserted. I wanted to change the subject, to talk of something more agreeable, but, fearful that, in search of har mony, the sounding of a gentler chord might lead to a spiritless exchange of words, I replied that all books written by women had something in them something light. " Oh, yes," she answered, quickly, " something light, a guiding torch where man would have placed some thing heavy, the dark stumbling-block of his own ego tism. Oh, hereis brother Henry!" she exclaimed, and, turning about with a graceful bound, she ran, without- stretched hands, to meet a man who came slowly down the path. " Brother Henry," said Luzelle, waiving her hand at me, " this is Mr. Quarrelsome Burwood." I shook hands with him, and, influenced by that in definable something which we term intuition, I liked him at once. He was a fine-looking man, and was apparently about thirty years of age; was rather care less in dress, but his manner was so engaging, and in his voice there was the ring of such heartiness and good 4 KENTUCKY COLONEL. 73 humor, that it must indeed have been an ill-conditioned fault-finder who would have waved aside his striking qualities of manliness and looked with dispraising eye upon his disregard of the tailor s art. He was a grad uate of the Washington and Lee University, and it re quired but a few moments conversation with him to reveal the fact that his excellent intellectual training had been supplemented by a close association with books. " Have you and Luzelle been quarreling?" he laugh ingly asked. " Oh, no," I answered, " she has simply been enjoy ing herself at my expense." " She does notspare me," he responded, stroking the girl s hair. " Sometimes she stabs me with a keen dagger, but then, with a soft handkerchief, she gently wipes away the blood." " But you," she replied, " rake me with a saw and leave me to bleed alone." " Yes, in impulsive self-defense, I rake you, but I soon return and bind up the wound in a piece of lace curtain." She attempted to pull his ears, and then, with a sudden gravity of manner, asked: " Have you seen pa? " " Yes," he answered, seating himself on the bench. " I have seen everybody, including Uncle Buckhorn. I would have come sooner and offered my services as consoling agent and general adviser, but was not in town at the time of Fred s escapade, and did not hear of it until I returned yesterday. Of course, it is a senous matter, but it does not warrant a complete sur- 74 A KENTUCKY COLONEL. render to grief. Mother couldn t look worse if Fred had committed suicide, though father tells me she has improved greatly. The woman is simply an advent uress, and will soon grow tired of her infatuated adorer. Mr. Burwood, do you feel like taking a stroll?" " Yes," I answered. " Let us go across the fields," said he. " Do you want to go, Luzelle? " " No, I am sunburned enough as it is." " All right, go and shut yourself up." The field hands were " laying by " the corn. Crick ets chirruped in the rank crab grass that grew in the " turn rows," and the " dry fly," with his rasping song, startled from his hiding-place under the bending corn- blades, flew away with an angry buzz. We went into the woods and strolled along a deep-shaded path whose edges were green with moss. I felt that I was with a man who was inspired with that lofty sentiment a love of nature. We were silent, both of us seem ing to feel that even the softest voice could be but harsh in comparison with the low and sweet murmur of the trembling leaves. When we had reached the " pike," and had turned toward home, Osbury asked me how I liked the neighborhood. " My admiration of the scenery the woods and fields," I answered, " cannot find expression." " The longer you stay here the better you will like your surroundings. Of course, there is an absence of what some men term life; days come without a tremor of excitement, and, with an undisturbed sigh, sink A KENTUCKY COLONEL. 75 into night, but the air is full of pleasing fancies; quiet contemplation seems to lie spread out over the fields, and in the thickly wooded places deep reverie has its home. Nearly all my life a dreaming life, too has been spent on this farm. I can look back upon but few incidents, for my existence has been a series of conditions. I am not one of the class that makes a country great. I am an idler, only serious when the atmosphere is heavy, and only gay when the atmos phere is light. I could never make money I de voted much study to the multiplication table, but am still shaky on the ninth line; I have done nothing, and yet I am not discouraged. I look with confidence to the future, yet I know not why, feeling, as I do, that I shall never accomplish anything. I am not lazy; I take pleasure in chopping down a large tree, not that the performance may result in a pile of wood, but that I enjoy the grand destruction when the tree falls. If a man borrows a dollar from me, I never think of its return, and if I borrow a dollar from a man I do not think of repaying him. Am I boring you?" he asked. "A man is never bored by a delineation of his own character," I rejoined. " He may be chafed and he may squirm, but he is far from feeling the rusty auger. You have told me much of myself, Mr. Osbury." He looked at me and smiled. " I thought so," he said; " I recognized our relationship, or I should not have given you my photograph. In the matter of acquaintanceship, a few minutes can sometimes accom plish the work of years. Even now I feel that you know me better than do some men who held me on 76 A KENTUCKY COLONEL. their knees when I was a child and who have seen me almost daily since that time." As we neared Gap s cabin we saw Jack and his wife in the yard. The woman was turning a grindstone, an unenviable assignment, surely, and the man was grinding a scythe. We stopped at the fence, and Gap, upon seeing us, exclaimed: " W y, howdy, gentlemen. Ef I hadenter seed you I wouldenter know d you." He put aside the scythe, and, lazily throwing one leg over a corner of the grindstone frame, humped himself into that lung-depressing position so common among men who have spent much of their lives in a tobacco field. The pale child, across whose face there was still a smear of molasses and ashes, looked up with a wan smile, but, too much interested to be drawn from its work of mysterious diagram-making, turned away and continued to mark on the ground with a stick. . " Wall," said Gap, " do you know anything wuth dividin this mawnin ?" " I don t know of anything worthy of division," Osbury replied. " Nothin fresh, eh?" "Nothing." " When d you leave town?" " Early this morning." " Any discussion going on up thar, ez the feller says?" " I haven t heard of any. How is your health, Mrs, Gap?" A ^ ENTUCKY COLONEL. 77 " Mighty slow, Mr. Osbury; mighty slow, but I don t reckin a body ought ter complain, as long as they have a good appetite an suthin ter satisfy it with." She stood with her large red arms folded on her breast. Her reddish hair stuck out like a tangled wisp of wheat straw. " Oh, she s gittin erlong ez well ez the av age," Gap spoke up. She gave him a look full of con temptuous meaning. " Don t git pie ever day," Gap went on, " but that makes it all the sweeter when she do git it." " But ef I depended on you fur the sugar ter sweeten the pie with, it would stay sour a mighty long time," she replied. " I don t know that you had so much sugar befo I went up yander in the hills an tuck you outen the bresh. I didn t see no sweet nin layin roun loose up thar." " Wall, ef you hadn ter wanted me you neenter tuck me away. I didn t send atter you, the Lawd knows." " Now, I m gittin it," said Gap; " gittin it now. But that s what a Blue-grass man gits fur goin up mong the hills an hollers, outen his range." " You a Blue-grass man! " she snapped. " I d take my oath you was raised where a black-eyed pea wouldn t sprout." The pale child looked up with a troubled expression on its face. " Here s Uncle Buck," said Osbury. Mr. Hineman came from behind the house. " Gap," said he, " when you were in the stable this j 8 KENTUCKY COLONEL. mornin did you see anything of a leather string hangin on a nail right by the door? " " No, don t think I did." 4< Air you shore you didn t?" " I know in reason that I didn t." " Well, it s mighty strange, I can tell you that." " But what have I got ter do with it, if it is mighty strange? " " Well, there s one thing mighty certain. I saw it hangin there about five minutes before you went into the stable, but when I went in there about five minutes after you left, it was gone." " Look here, do you mean to say that I tuck yo blamed string? " " I say it s mighty strange." " I know whut you say, but do you mean that I tuck it? " " You can draw yo own conclusions." " Wall, I ain t drawin this mornin , an I want ter tell you that ef you say I tuck that string, you air a ole " " Gap," Osbury broke in, " don t go too far, now. He is an old man and is my uncle, and when you abuse him you abuse me. Do you understand? " He evidently understood, for the defiance into which he had straightened himself gave way to his former humped-over attitude. Old Buck s face was purple with rage. " Gap," he exclaimed, " get off of this place! I won t have you here another day longer. I can t put up with your laziness and impudence. Get off this place! " At this Gap shouted with laughter, and even Osbury A KENTUCKY COLONEL. 79 could not help smiling. Old Buck s anger subsided into embarrassment, and, thrusting his hands into his pockets, he stood for a moment, perplexed, ashamed, and then drew out the leather string. At this there was another outburst of laughter. " I don t understand this at all, " said the old man. " I don t ricollect takin this string off of that nail. There s so infernally much worry these days that a man don t know what he s doin half the time; but it s a goo# thing for you, Gap, that I found it, I can tell you that It ll teach you a lesson, I reckon. It will learn you (/ let things alone that don t belong to you. I ve beer run over by people long enough, and it s got to stop right here." We heard the dinner-horn before we reached the house, and, although we had left old Buck standing in Gap s yard, exclaiming against the indignities that were put upon him in this life, and although we had walked rather briskly, yet we found the old fellow sitting at the table when we entered the dining-room. " Henry," said the Colonel, when we were all seated, " how is the real estate market? " " Not very active." " Have you ever sold any land?" " I don t remember." " Hum. Do you reckon you d know what to do if a man were to come in and offer to buy a lot? " " Well, so unexpected an occurrence would undoubt edly startle me; but, upon recovering my nerve, I think that I could enter into the transaction. " ; I don t know about that. You might let him take 8O A KENTUCKY COLONEL. the land, but I don t know that you would demand any money for it." " Now, Remington," Mrs. Osbury spoke up, " don t try to create the impression that Henry hasn t any sense at all. I am sure he could do business if he had the chance." "Anybody can do that," said old Buck. "These days a man sits around and waits for a chance, but in my day a man just naturally went out and scared up a chance. If he didn t do it one way he did another." " No doubt yours was a day of great energy," Henry replied. " Had I lived then, with my system strongly impregnated with the spirit of that vigorous day, I should now be some great financier; or, had I devoted myself to the arts, I could now soothe the twilight of my life with the soft breathing of some musical instrument." " Oh, I know what you mean," old Buck declared; " you are trying to cast a slur on my flute; but let me tell you, young man, there are worse things than the flute." " I don t know," said Henry, " for I haven t traveled very much; but I think that if there is anything that would induce me to travel it is the flute." " You don t appreciate music, suh." " Oh, yes, I do, and that is the reason I give the flute all the room it wants. By the way, an article in the North American Review says that flute-blowing causes wrinkles in the face and induces premature fail ure of eyesight." Old Buck did not reply, but I could see that he was A KENTUCKY COLC XML. 1 deeply concerned, for a shadow of anxiety passed across his face. Henry, thus encouraged, continued: " I had thought of getting a clarionet to blow at even ing when I should have nothing else to do, and I had spoken to Major Patterson with regard to the purchase of an old horn which some one had left at his tavern, when I came across the North American Review article." Old Buck s face presented an amusing picture. He had ceased to eat, and, with a faint ray of hope on his *ace, was studying the manner of the young man, but as he saw no sign of a lurking joke, the faint ray of hope faded; and, shoving back his chair, the old fellow sank into a state of deep, and evidently troubled, meditation. Luzelle, tremulous with suppressed mis chief, glanced at her brother, but, failing to catch his eye", looked at me and laughed; but old Buck took no notice of her merriment. He was thinking of wrinkles and of failing eyesight. After dinner we sat on the gallery, all of us, ex cept old Buck, who, still meditating, walked up and down the yard. After awhile he called Henry. " Come out here a minute," he said. " I want to see you on a matter of business." " I am not attending to any business to-day, Uncle Buck." " But, dang it, this is business of importance." " Makes no difference, I can t attend to it to-day." " Come, Henry," the Colonel said in an undertone, " don t worry him. He s getting old. and is peculiar, anyway, " 82 A KENTUCKY COLONEL. "Comin , Henry?" " No, not just now. By the way, I forgot to make a slight correction with regard to flute-blowing. The article was published as a specimen of humor prevalent in England two hundred years ago." Old Buck came upon the gallery and sat down. A load seemed to have been lifted from his mind; and, a few minutes later, when Henry announced his readiness to attend to the important business, the old fellow said: " Oh, we ll just let it go. I have about decided not to have anything to do with it." " Burwood," the Colonel remarked, " I think we had better resume our work to-morrow. " " What, on Sunday ! " Mrs. Osbury exclaimed. * Hum, I had forgotten," the Colonel replied. " But you ought not to forget such things, Reming ton," she insisted. " Probably not, but we are hardly responsible for the tricks our minds play us." " But if we train our minds properly they will not play tricks at the expense of a day that we ought to regard as sacred. It has been a long time since you went to church with me, Remington. " " Yes, I believe it has, but, to gratify you, I will go any time." " Oh, but you should not go to gratify me, but to gratify yourself." " Ah, but suppose I don t hear anything to gratify me? Suppose I am bored by some old fe^^w in whose piety I have but little confidence and whose mnd I know to be shallow ? Take old man Boyle , for instance. - A KENTUCKY COLONEL. g^ 1 have known him ever since he was a boy. As $ young man he was a rascal." " Does that mean he is a rascal now?" she asked. " To me it does. I believe that a born rascal \\ always a rascal. , He may, in after years, restrain his inclinations, but the rascally principle is there, all the same. Drunkards reform, and even the liar may finally cultivate a respect for the truth, but a boy that will cheat in a horse trade, will, after becoming old, do the same thing. I care not how many vows he may take it makes no difference how many mourners benches he wets with his tears, the rascally part of his nature remains unchanged." " Then you do not believe that a man can be born again?" " I don t know anything about that. He may undergo certain changes through remorse, and may so deeply regret having committed certain acts that he will never repeat them, but I do say that I have never known a thoroughly mean man to become a good man that is, a man who has inherited viciousness." " I am grieved to hear you talk that way, Reming ton, for I think that it is setting a bad example. It is an argument in favor of the uselessness of attempting to do good." " If a man is disposed by nature to do right, Mary, the carrying-out of his intentions does not require a constant effort. There never was a greater fallacy than the supposition that all men are born equal, inheriting the same amount of original sin and capable of receiv ing the same degree of moral training. No other form $4 * KENTUCKY CQLQN&JL of animal life is placed upon so uniform a basis. Horses are not equal. Regardless of training, some of them can run faster than others. Now, there s this fellow Whitburg, the evangelist who recently stirred up the people of this entire section of the country. I knew him in the army. He was a liar and a thief. I met him the other day in Emryville. His physiognomy had not changed. There was an attempt, it seemed, to hide, with the forced expression of piety, the old signs of liar and thief, but the marks were still there. And yet the people, forsaking the churches of true and honorable preachers preachers who have spent their lives in working for the moral good of their congrega tions flock to hear that sensational impostor." " Remington, you are wrong, I feel that you are. I studied Brother Whitburg closely paid attention to every word he said and I am sure that he is a truly religious man. Henry, my son, you must not pay too much attention to what your father says." " My views are pretty well settled, mother. I believe that God takes care of the soul, but that man must take care of the body. The question of whether or not a man has religion does not concern me. But what is the use in discussing a matter that can never be satis factorily adjusted? To me, there is more religion in a sassafras sprout that supports a blooming vine in a quail which at early morning shakes a dewdrop from his crest and whistles for his mate, than there is in ten thousand volumes of creed discussion." 14 Well, let it all go," said the Colonel, " let it all go. Henry, what are you reading now? " * KENTUCKY CQLQNBL* $5 " Novels, mostly. I have just finished reading Karl Elder s Baldine. It is a charming piece of work, so pure, so clear, so simple and yet so strong. " " Novels don t amount to anything," old Buck re sponded. " They ain t nothin but a lot of words that tell about people you can t see. The drama knocks the novel silly. In the theater you hear the thunder when there s a storm, and instead of bein told you air in the woods you see the trees and know you air. Talk to me about novels!" "To me," Henry replied, " the novel is much more realistic than the play. The novelist tells me that I am in the woods. He shows me the buds and the leaves. He tells me of an old log that is burning, and I can see the smoke. The theater shows me a painted forest. I know that is not real. I do not see any boughs waving I see no birds, see no leaf fall. I know that the thunder is artificial. The novelist tells me, for instance, that Johnson drew a dagger and plunged it into Jackson s breast. I see the horrible act I see the blood. On the stage Johnson draws a dagger and makes a motion at Jackson, but I see that the weapon is not plunged into Jackson s breast. I know that it is a play. In the matter of scenery, the overwrought attempt at realism depresses and hampers the imagina tion. At least, it is so with me. I don t know how it is with other people. What do you think, sister? " " I hardly know* I believe that the play is more fascinating at the time, but that its influence does not remain with us so long. To me, the characters **>. 86 ^ KENTUCKY COLONEL. great novel are real human beings, but when the book has been dramatized, the actors give them an artificial air." "Not necessarily," said old Buck. " Now, nobody ever heard me boast, but I want to say one thing. In 57, Wyatte Taylor and a passul of us had a dramatic company, and, among others, we played a piece called Caught on a Snag. I took the part of Cy Jeffries, and people that knowed what they was talkin about lowed that they never saw anything more natural than that was; but I reckon actin has changed a good deal sence that time. Don t you like the drama better, Burwood?" " I like a good novel better than I do a bad play," I rejoined, " and I would rather see a good play than to read a poor novel. I must, however, agree with Miss Luzelle that the influence of the novel remains longer with us. " " Thank you," said Luzelle, bowing. " You are in a more accommodating mood than you were this morn- ing." " I don t believe much in theaters, or novels either," Mrs. Osbury declared. " They may contain moral les sons, but it is not on account of the moral teachings that people go to see plays or read novels. Both lead the mind away from more serious matters. When we come to die we don t think of characters, but of our own souls." Thus we talked until supper-time. Luzelle occa sionally addressed a remark to me, and once, lost in 3 saptwrous contemplation of her beautiful face, I wa? A KENTUCKY CQJLOST&L. S? thrilled with happiness, but a moment later I saw a cold gray eye and hair inclined toward waviness - Boyd Savely. I wondered how it was that she could love a man of so little sentiment, a man whose talk did not even possess that snappiness which rudeness of speech not unfrequently carries. But did she really love him? The hour was growing late. We had spent a talk ative evening sitting in the parlor, a room made sweet with the perfume of roses that Luzelle had brought from the garden, and the Colonel had just remarked upon the advisability of going to bed, when we heard some one walking down the hallway. Luzelle stepped to the door, looked out, and, turning, quietly said: " Mother, do not get excited. Your matrimonial prodigal son has returned. * Mrs. Osbury sprang to her feet and rushed toward the door. Fred caught her in his arms. " There now, mother, don t take on, " said the young man. " It s all over now, and I have come back to ask for pardon. Father," he put his arms round the Colonel, " you must not think hard of me." " God bless you, my son ; God bless you." " Uncle," he put his arms round old Buck," I did you a deep wrong, and now I beg your forgiveness. " " You have it, Fred ; God knows you have. You " The old man, breaking down, sobbed on Fred s shoul der. " You don t know what I have suffered, my dear boy. I am old and foolish and disagreeable, I know, but I don t mean to be. That woman but we won t talk about her, Fred ; we won t talk about her." 88 ^ KENTUCKY COLONEL Fred shook hands with Henry and me, kissed Lu, zelle, and then sat down. His face bore the marks of suffering ; he looked old. For a time not a word was spoken. At last Mrs. Osbury broke the silence. " You must have some supper," she said. " No, I ate before Laving Emryville. Did that nig ger bring old Tom and the buggy back all right ? " "Yes." " Has my colt been taken care of ? " " I have curried him every day," the Colonel an s-vered. " Are they done laying by corn ? " "Not yet." He remained silent for a few minutes, and then, with en effort, attempted to tell us something with regard to himself, but he broke down. No one spoke. We knew that it was better to let him take his own time. At last he said : " I we went to Louisville from here and then went to Cincinnati. We put up at a hotel, and as I didn t have much money I had sworn that I wouldn t write home for any I began to look around for something to do. Ella I reckon that may be her name gave me a good deal of encouragement at first, but kept on urging me to write home for money. One evening when I went to the hotel I was happv. I had got a place in a grocery house. I threw open the door and rushed into the room. Ella was gone. On the table I found this letter. Read it, Mr. Burwood." I took the paper and read the following: 3&Y >EAR MR. OsBURY: I have done a great wrong, and am sorry fa* KENTUCKY COLONEl* 89 ft, and this acknowledgment is the nearest I can come toward righting it I did not expect such treatment at your home cold and cruel even before that old fossil recognized and denounced me. It is useless for me to live with you. I thought thav your people were wealthy, and that I should be Well received; at least aftei It was seen that you were devoted to me. My departure is the best for u* both. I cannot afford to worry along with a man who has to work for & living. I suppose every woman appreciates love; but love in a cooped-up room, with a brick wall for scenery, with an outlandish chambermaid as an occasional visitor, soon grows to be tiresome. I am sorry for you, for I believe that you are an honest and well-meaning boy. I like your brightness and your exuberance of hope, but I am no longer a child. Please do not attempt to follow me. I am not given to gush, yet I sincerely hope that you may forgive me. ELLA. Not a word of comment was spoken when I had finished reading the letter. We sat in the silence. The clock struck one. Mrs. Osbury spoke , " Fred, your room remains just as you left it*" CHAPTER VII. CAME WITH A GRACEFUL SWING. SEPTEMBER came with a russet glow. The corn fields were turning brown, and the rag-weeds were rank where the watermelons had grown. Yellow- jackets and honey-bees buzzed about the cider-press in the orchard, and the negro boy, who had added a pair of cottonade trousers to his wardrobe, lay under an apple tree and played with a lazy dog. The quails, no longer mated, had organized themselves into social istic flocks, and the melancholy dove sat on the stack- pole where the wheat had been threshed. When the sun went down, the hungry hog, squealing in response to the " pig-oo-e-e " of the negro who carried a sack of corn, ran precipitously through the woods. Shortly after Fred s return it was decided that it would be better for him to travel, and, not caring to go abroad, he went to California. He did not, except on one occasion, speak to me of his unfortunate mar riage, and that was on the morning of his departure. He had come into my room, and had begun to tap, with a comb, on the marble slab of the bureau, and, recalling, as I could see, the time when he had first told me of the girl, turned about with his old air of em barrassment, and said: " Of course I was a fool, Mr. Burwood, to fall fa 4 K&NTVCKY COLONMl* gi love with a woman so much older than I am; but I reckon it s about as natural for a young fellow to fall in love with a woman older than he is as it is for an old man to fall in love with a young girl. I am glad to see mother all right again. Oh, we ll forget all about it pretty soon. There wasn t any need of getting a divorce didn t seem so to me, when we didn t even know the real name of the woman but I thought it was better to let pa and ma have their way." " How long do you expect to begone?" I asked. " I hardly know, but I reckon 111 knock around out there as long as I find anything to interest me." The " History of Shellcut County "was making very fair progress; and, traversing the many unforeseen by paths that ran in the direction of an interesting general result, we had, in the production of manuscript, gone far beyond the Colonel s original design. The old gentleman seemed to think there could not be too much so long as the matter was interesting, while I, well pleased with the employment, offered no advice that might tend toward the shortening of my engagement. One Saturday afternoon, when a spirit of doze per vaded the house, I went out and sat under the lilacs in the garden. I heard voices, and looking up, saw Luzelle and Boyd Savely coming toward me. He was surely a graceful fellow. What an easy swing what an undisturbed air, an air of perfect confidence in self, He was dressed in gray and still wore his broad-britn white hat. "Ho, Burwood,"he said, coming forward and ex tending his hand. We shook hands, and, seating p2 ^ KENTUCKY COLONEL. himself beside me, he took off his hat, threw it on the ground and clasped his hands back of his head. " You are polite," Luzelle remarked. * Excuse me," he replied, moving closer to me. " Sit down. " " No, I prefer to stand." " All right. Stand up, as the fellow said, and grow taller. How are you getting along with the book, Burwood?" " Very well." " Pretty tiresome, ain t it?" " No; the interest I take in it relieves the work oi weariness." " Wouldn t in my case," he rejoined. " I don t know of anything more tiresome than scratching with a pen; and I have often wondered how Hammonds manages to keep from grabbing up a pair of scissors or some thing and sousing em in his throat, having to hump himself over the said and the aforesaid and the * range north/ section so-and-so/ and the to-wit business from morning till night. I want to be out in the open air, me ; I want to ride a good hoss and hear the hounds run." " And you are quite as much opposed to reading as you are to writing," said Luzelle. " YouVe hit it/ Savely rejoined. " A book always looks tired to me. Makes me think of some feller shut up in a hot room scratching away for dear life, when he might be on some cool hillside listening to the young birds recite their lessons." " Why, you are almost sentimental! " A KENTUCKY COLONEL. 93 exclaimed. " You tempt me to call you a voiceless poet." " What do you mean by that? " " Why, a poet who feels the power of music, but who does not sing . " " Oh, I haven t got any objections to music, but no body ever heard me try to sing. " " You don t understand," she said, " and I know now that your reference to the young birds reciting their lessons was merely an accident." " No, not much of an accident. I heard your brother Henry say something of the kind, and hap pened to remember it. This sort of weather makes me lazy." " The year is in its ripened mood," she answered. " Having sown its spring follies and committed its summer errors, it is now lying on a bed of dry grass, brooding in regret." " Bah," he replied, unclasping his hands and shoving them deep into his pockets. Luzelle, looking at me, laughingly remarked: " That is the way he treats all of my little efforts at imagery." "Imagery, "he answered, again clasping his hands back of his head. " Is that what you call it? Now, who ever saw a year sowing spring follies and com mitting summer errors? Who ever saw a year lying on a bed of dry grass? " ; * You have not, doubtless, but that is no reason why you should ridicule me. You are so cross to-day, Boyd, that there is no getting along with you. Everything 54 A KENTUCKY COLONEL. displeases you. I won t talk to you any more until you have learned to treat me with more courtesy." She bowed to Savely, and turned toward the house. " Come back, Luzelle," he cried, starting from his seat. " Come back, please. I didn t mean anything." She did not stop; she made no reply. Savely sat down, shook back his hair, and remarked that it was the first time he had ever seen her act that way. " Women are curious, anyhow," said he. " A man never knows when he has pleased them." " But he generally knows when he has displeased them," I ventured to assert. The tone of my voice must not have been, at that moment, suited to his ear, for, slowly turning his head, he bent a cold and search ing gaze upon me. " She had no cause to be displeased," he said. " She has been acquainted with me long enough to know that I wouldn t hurt her feelings for anything." " We sometimes wound a lifelong friend with a word which would have no effect upon a mere ac quaintance, " I rejoined. " Sensitiveness is often one of the whims of close friendship." " But I didn t wound he r." " Not intentionally," I replied. " Yes, and no other way, either." " She evidently thinks so." " Now, look here, what have you got to do with it? " Nothing. " " Seems like it." " I didn t speak of it until you addressed me on the subject. " A KENTUCKY COLONEL. 95 M Yes, ana you were devilish anxious to have me address you, I can tell you that." " Of course, you can tell me that, and you can tell me many other things, some of which I should think are not true." He caught his breath with a quick gasp, and, glaring at me, replied: " You mean, then, to call me a liar ! " " When I mean to say that you are a liar I ll say it, and in so clear a way, too, that there can be no mistake." " Well, now, if you insinuate that I am a liar I want to tell you that -" "Oh, Burwood," the Colonel called. "Ah, here you are in your favorite seat. How are you, Boyd ?" " So so," Savely answered. " How s all ?" the Colonel asked. "All well, I believe." " Burwood," said the Colonel, " I have just thought of a thing that we can write down between now and supper-time. Suppose we go and do it. Come on, Boyd." The Colonel and I went into the library; Savely strode into the parlor. I studied the Colonel s face ? to determine whether or not his arrival had been a planned intervention, but was soon satisfied that he knew nothing of the quarrel. At the supper table I saw, and regretfully, too, I must admit, that Savely and Luzelle had covered up, with the rose-leaves of reconciliation, the memory of their little difference. Savely did not speak to me 96 A KENTUCKY COLONEL during the meal, but more than once I felt that his cold gray eyes were turned upon me. After supper, Major Eli Hammonds and Captain Joe Jinny came over, a visit consoling (to me, at least) in the fact that it did not include the author of " The Baron s Daughter; or, The Whispering Duke," for, not having read the story, I was ill-fitted to give my opinion of it. I had seen her several times since I had promised to give an honest criticism of her performance, and on each occasion she had persistently urged me to throw aside all less important employment and to give my self up to a reading which she knew I should find elevating if not ennobling. There was something else with which I was pleased : Savely soon took his de parture. Hammonds brought his fiddle, having heard that I was fond of music, and, immediately after I had shaken hands with him, he seized his whiskers, spurted a yellow streak into the fire-place, and then began to play a writhing tune, which he termed " Whip the Devil." I soon discovered that " Whipping the Devil" was as far as he had gone in the direction of musical accomplishment. He argued, I afterward learned, that no man could master more than one thoroughly good piece, and that, instead of flirting with the many new and shallow airs of composers who understood the ways of society better than they comprehended the melodies of true mus c, he would devote himself to that grand old tune, " Whip the Devil," composed by an old Virginian who afterward wrote that pathetic song, " Dancing in the New Ground," and who, Hammonds sorrowfully told me, was killed by an old family horse, A KENTUCKY COLONEL. 97 "Colonel," said Hammonds, when, to the relief of as all, he had put down his fiddle, " that corn you declared would undoubtedly be caught by the frost is in rosen ears now. Had a fine mess to-day, and I ll tell you that late corn, fried in bacon grease, is about as fair article of diet as you can strike." " Yes," the Colonel answered, " but eating corn in the fall seems like trying to reach back after a departed season. I am a little peculiar in that regard, and to me new sweet potatoes are not of good flavor until fodder-pulling time." Jinny had begun to twist about in his chair. " Eli," said he, " if you was in Norfolk to-night, what would you order? " "Well, Joe " " By the way," the Colonel broke In, " there is a considerable revival going on at Mt. Zion. Yes, and, Burwood, you must go up there. It is an old log church, situated up on the ridge. There you will find a characteristic lot of people, very different from the people down here. They are what we call over-ridgers, and nearly all of them live from hand to mouth. I have known some of them to neglect corn that was suffering for work, and haul four cross-ties ten miles to a railroad and sell them for fifteen cents apiece." " Pretty hard lot," said Jinny. "They wear dingy brown jeans, and are never so happy as when they are eating fried bacon and drinking coffee without sugar. They don t know what it is to live. Do they, Eli? " " No; don t know the first principle. Well, Joe, talk about living like a king, if you was in Nor" 9 g A KENTUCKY COLONEL. " Major, I received a letter from Fred to-day," Mrs. Osbury remarked with timely interruption. "Where is he?" " In California, enjoying himself very well." " You have never heard anything from the woman, have you?" A shadow crossed Mrs. Osbury s face. " No," she said, " not a word." " I heard that we are to have a wedding in this neighborhood pretty soon," Jinny declared, bestowing a sort of fat smile on Luzelle. " Who?" Hammonds asked. " Oh, somebody not a thousand miles from here. By the way, Colonel, what do you think of the Mickle- burg bank robbery ? " " Quite a financial transaction," the Colonel an swered. " The snatching of $20,000 out of a Ken tucky bank never fails to create a sensation. Have they discovered any clew?" " None at all." "Ain t it about time to have some more music?" Hammonds asked, reaching after his fiddle. " Yes," the Colonel answered, pretending not to have noticed Hammonds threatening motion. " Lu zelle, play something." She played, and Hammonds sat cross-legged, pat ting with one foot. " That is very fine," said he, when the music had ceased. " Mighty fine; still, I like a fiddle better than anything else." "A flute knocks the fur off of a fiddle every clatter, " said old Buck. A KEN-TUCK Y COLONEL. gg u That s where you re wrong. A fiddle is the back bone of music." * Yes, but not the soul," old Buck declared. " Well, I don t know about that. A flute, now, is all wind." "And a fiddle is all scratch." " But," Jinny broke in, " if you itched for music, wouldn t you rather be scratched than to be blowed ? " " You don t know anything about music," old Buck replied, with increasing ardor. " And you don t know much about it either, Hammonds. " " Come," said Luzelle, " musicians should not pro duce so much discord." " Ah, Mr. Hineman, " Hammonds remarked, " I think I know quite as much about music as you do." " Yes, you think so." "And I know it." "Let it all go," said the Colonel; "let it all go. Neither one of you knows enough about music to hurt yourselves." Old Buck got up, cast a reproachful look at the Colonel, opened the door with a vigorous jerk, and said, " Good night." Hammonds slowly shook his head, and, having been spoken to by some one, seized his whiskers and spurted another yellow streak into the fire-place. After the visitors had gone, and while I was passing through the hall, Luzelle, who had just come out of her mother s room, called me. " Do you know that you made Mr. Savely very IOO A KENTUCKY COLONEL. angry ? " she said, glancing back to see if any one were, near enough to have heard the remark. " I suppose so." " But why did you ? " " I don t know that I intended to make him angry. What I said was in defense of you." " I was doubtless wrong, Mr. Burwood. I haven t felt well to-day have been nervous and too much dis posed to be irritable. I am very sorry you had any unpleasant words with Mr. Savely. He told me some time ago that he did not think you liked him." " I did not suppose he was so impressionable," I answered. " Oh, he is not so dull as you seem to believe, and I am sure that he is not a man of intellectual pretenses. " " Or of intellectual evidences," I could not help replying. She gave me a piercing look, and for a moment there Was in her eyes an expression which foreshadowed an angry response, but, restraining herself, she quietly said : " I am sorry you have no higher opinion of him. He is either a strong friend, or, as you may one day dis cover, an industrious enemy." " So am I, Miss Osbury." " Oh, then, you and he may become closely associ ated. It was merely through kind intention that I sought to warn you; but since you take it so ill, I shall dismiss the subject from my mind. Good night." I heard the bark of many a distant dog before I sank to sleep. I had gone beyond the point of even caring to reason with myself CHAPTER VIII. THE JOYFUL HALLELUJAH. HENRY OSBURY came from town early the next morning. He and I decided to visit Mt. Zion church. After breakfast we were all sitting on the gallery (Henry and I waiting for the horses to be brought) when Jack Gap came into the yard. He seemed to be slouching under some heavy load, and on his face he bore the aspect of deep sorrow. He came upon the gallery, gravely shook hands with us, and, without speaking, sat down, humped himself over, placed his elbows on his knees, and began to twist his white cot ton hat. " Anything wrong, Gap? " the Colonel asked. " Yas, sump n wrong now, Colonel, but I hope it will come out with glory an* brightness." Henry winked at me. Mrs. Osbury appeared to have suddenly become deeply interested. I did not quite understand Jack (though I don t know why I should have been so stupid, having lived in North Caro lina, where revivals and persimmons ever ripen in the fall), but the next moment he enlightened me. " I wuz struck with conviction yistidy," he went on, " an all at once the scales fell outen my eyes an I seed myse f a sinner, an I wondered why I hadn t long go been struck down ez a cumbunce uv the ground; but I am a IO2 . 4- K ENT VCK Y COLONEL. campin on the hillside uv Jeruzlum, an it s night now, but I have faith that daylight will come putty soon." " You must have faith," Mrs. Osbury said. " You must put perfect trust in the Savior." " Yessum, an I am a-doin uv that, but my load is mighty heavy, an I am a shiftin uv hit frum one shoulder ter the tuther, but have a faith, mam, that 1 will soon fling it off. Colonel, I come over to tell you how sorry I am that I couldn t keep the app intment I bad with you day befo yistidy." " What appointment, Jack?" " W y, when you let me have that twenty dollars about a month ago I lowed that I d pay you shore day befo yistidy, but I didn t have the money." "That s all right, Jack." " I hope you won t feel hard at me." " Not in the least, Jack." " Wall," getting up, and, with both hands, pulling his hat down on his head, " I must be movin . Thar ain t no peace on the face uv the yeth fur me now, but I have a bidin hope, mam," addressing Mrs. Osbury, " I feel that I ain t allus goin to be left in the wilder ness. Mr. Burwood, air you a professor ? " " No," I answered. " Then you better be lookin out fur the norrer path; an* you, too, Henry. Wall, I rrust be goin . Got to go over to Mt. Zion this mawnin , fur I feel better thar than I do anywhere else. Good-by, all han s. Colonel, I ll pay that money ez soon ez I kin." " I wonder," said the Colonel, when Jack had passed A KENTUCKY COLONEL. through the gate, * if that fellow believed I ever expected him to return the money?" " Oh, Remington, you must not be so severe," Mrs. Osbury answered. " His intentions were no doubt perfectly honest. Henry, now what are you laughing at, my son?" " I was just thinking of one of your amusing pecu liarities. " " Of one of my peculiarities! I didn t know I had any." " But you have, and one of them is especially amus ing. During the spring, the summer and the winter, your quiet love of fun finds gentle and mischievous play at the expense of the titled head of this household. If he should lend money, you say that a fraud has been practiced upon him; but in the fall -in fact, during the revival season, when the katydid s cry is sad and the mourner s bench is in bloom, you believe that the Lord is inducing people to become honest." " Henry, you ought to be ashamed of yourself. Is it true, Remington?" " My dear madam, I refuse to give my testimony." " Brother Buck," she said, " 1 appeal to you." " Oh, don t appeal to him," Henry cried. " This is a sad time of year to him." " How so?" old Buck asked. " Why, it is too warm for you in the sun and too cool in the shade." " Oh, you be blamed, now, Henry. You and Rem ington are all the time talkin about me following the shade around the house, and I am gettin tired of it. IO4 A KENTUCK Y COLONEL. What harm is there in a man movin when the sun hits him on a hot day? I attend to business, I can tell you that. I stay right here and don t go off the place once in six months. I wanted to go down to Louisville some time ago to a reunion of the Mexican war vet erans, but couldn t go." " Why didn t you go?" " I couldn t raise but twenty-five dollars, and do you think that I want to go like an infernal pauper? Rem ington, you could have helped me out if you had wanted to." " I gave you twenty-five dollars, all the money I had at the time/ " You could have raised more. Here I work like a nigger, and never can see anything. I am a great mind to go down to the bluff and jump off." " It s a pretty good walk over to the bluff," the Colonel replied, " but if you want to go I ll hitch up old Tom and haul you over there," " Oh, you be blamed, Remington. Working like a nigger for my vidults and clothes ! " " Corre, Burwood," said Henry, " the horses are ready." We rode for some distance on the turnpike and then came to the foot of the ridge, where the steep and winding dirt road began. Here, at a bend, called the " Devil s Elbow," a spout spring gurgled through a hollow log; there, draped with dying vines, frowned a cliff of soft, yellowish rock. Sometimes the road was cut along the edge of a solid wall, and then passed c>er a dangerous-looking wooden bridge, under which A KENTUCKY COLONEL. 1 05 roared a foaming stream. Finally we came upon a level stretch of land, timbered with black oak and chestnut. The soil was yellow, and the rotting rail- fences were almost hidden by blackberry briars and sassafras sprouts. Occasionally we passed log farm houses. Lank and hump-shouldered men, pale women with snuff sticks in their mouths, and wretched-looking children, came out and gazed at us. We met a yellow- skinned man, walking beside a screaking wagon drawn by a cow and a mule. We asked him whither he was going: " Coin* to town," he answered. " What have you in your wagon? " " A little tanbark an some ginseng root. Lowed I d go down an sell it fur whut it s wuth." " How long, will it take you to make the trip?" " Bout two days, I reckon." 11 How much money can you get for your load?" " I oughter git a dollar an a quarter, but I reckon they ll jew me down to seventy-fi cents." " Miserable people," Henry remarked as we rode along. " They don t care for schools they don t care for anything except what they term the needcessities* a little something to eat, chaw and dip. When that fellow sells his stuff, he will buy a plug of Sunday tobacco for himself he c]iews long green during the week and will get a roll of snuff for his wife and daughters. Helloa, yonder is an acquaintance." We caught up with a man, and I was introduced to Lark Moss. I remembered the name, as he was one IO6 A KENTUCKY COLONEL. of the men engaged in the horse-race which Jack Gap had run across the field to see. 44 Which way are you riding, Lark?" Henry asked. " Wall, I did intend to go to Mt. Zion, as I under stand they are whooping up things there pretty lively, but I reckon I ll turn off up here and call on a feller that I want to see on business, and, by the way, here is my road now. " He turned off, and Henry, looking after him, remarked: " He is one of the most peculiar fellows in the country, and I want you to know him, not that you are likely to learn anything from him, but that he may amuse you. He is a prankish fellow, and would stay out in the rain all night that he might play a joke on somebody at morning. Yonder is Mt. Zion." We were nearing an old meeting-house, built on a gently rising knoll. Hundreds of horses were tied to the swinging branches of the trees, and numerous wagons had been driven into the shade. The swelling notes of a melancholy hymn mingled with the loud neighing of the horses, and occasionally the hoarse braying of a mule echoed throughout the woods. We tied our horses and stood under the trees near the house. A crowd of men and boys, some of them fairly well dressed, were standing or lounging about. Some of them were squatted on the ground, and others lay on shawls. Whenever a man arrived with a woman he coaducted her to the door and then took his place under the trees. The men were talking about horses, and I particularly noticed one fellow who went about mouths. Sometimes he would grab A KENTUCKY COLONEL. 107 up the skin on a colt s shoulder or lift up a filly s fore foot. " Who s that a-comin ?" one man, gazing down the road, would ask. " Don t know," some fellow would reply; " looks like Josh Atkinson s hoss." " Must a swopped lately, then." " No, not sence last spring." " Yas, that s Josh. Putty good hoss, too." " Don t know. Most too stiff in the shoulders." Henry drew me to one side. "They don t go into the church during the day," said he, " but at night, when mourners are called up, they crowd in. The day sermon is preparatory to the great effort made at night. Let us remain and see how Gap comes out." After the long sermon was finished, Henry and I went to dinner with an old fellow who pressingly invited us, and, at " early candle lighting," returned to the church. An old man, whose voice arose into broken shouts, preached a short sermon, and when he had concluded, an exhorter got up to supplement the stirring appeal. Mourners began to kneel at the bench, and it was not long until we saw Gap writhing under his heavy conviction. Some of the mourners, almost blasphemous in their violent importunity, cried out: " Come down, sweet speret come down right now. Lord, I want you this minit." "Amen," shouted an old man who stood clapping his hands and singing. The exhorter continued his appeal. " We want to know," he said in a wavering tone, how many there !O8 A KENTUCKY COLONEL. are in this congregation to-night that are on the Lord s .side. All that want to go to heaven hold up their hands." (Numerous hands were held up.) "Thank God, there are many. Oh, this must be a night of rebuke to old Satan" (Brother in the corner "Amen.") N This may be a night long to be remembered in the golden city. " (Sister in the corner " Lord grant it. ") By this time Gap had become violent. His moans were distressing, and his demands for immediate relief were piteous. " I want it right now ! " he cried, and one man, who stood near me, placed his hand on a brother s shoulder and said : " He looks like he mout come through ter-night." The next moment Gap sprang to his feet and uttered a startling shout. An exhorter seized him in his arms. Other mourners, thus encouraged, " came through," and for more than two hours the woods rang with cries of exultation. As Henry and I were riding toward home, Gap over took us. He was happy in the singing of a hallelujah song. " I am all right now, gentlemen/ all right now. Ole Satan s rope is done slipped offen my neck. I woulder went up night afore last, but the devil hil me back. Conviction came on me ez I sot in the meetin -house, but jest ez I got up ter go ter the bench I thought about a bottle uv licker that I had hid out under a log. I lowed that I d better go out an break that bottle, an I went out. I tuck out the bottle, but jest ez I wuz about ter fling it agin a tree, ole Satan said, Better take a little. Wall, gentlemen, he had me an I tilted A KENTUCKY COLONEL. lOQ the bottle. Then I didn feel like goin back into the house, but tuck several more drinks, an then went off down ter the spring and swapped saddles with a feller that lives way over beyant Caney>Fork. My wife will be mighty happy when I go home ter-night, gentle^^^. Go on here," his horse had begun to shy; " go on here, I tell you. Go on here, you d d whoa. Gentlemen, wait a minit. I have drapped my religion. Wait till I get down an pray fur it." " Can t you wait until you get home ?" Henry asked. " No, mout be too late." " Well, get down ; we will wait for you." He dismounted, got down on his knees and prayed with piteous persuasion ; and, again mounting his horse, he said : " It s all right now, gentlemen." We rode on rather briskly, not caring to hear him talk (although he was undoubtedly sincere), but occa sionally he would overtake us and teil us how much iad been done for him. When we reached home the hour was late, yet 1 saw a light in the library ; and, thinking that the Colonel had struck another " important recollection that must be set down," I went into the room, having told Henry that I should soon follow him up-stairs. The Colonel was not in the library. Luzelle sat at my desk. . "I have waited for you," she said, arising. My blood leaped. " Mr. Savely was here to-day," she went on, " and he says that you must apologize for having called him a liar. " " I did not call him a liar." " He says you did." t IO A KENTUCKY COLONEL. " He should know," I replied. " I did not intend to mention this affair again- I have not spoken to any one not directly concerned," she said, " but do so now in the hope that trouble may be averted." " I shall bring about no trouble." " You will apologize, then." How appealingly beautiful she looked as she stood with the lamplight falling on her upturned face. In admiration of her I forgot for a moment that she was demanding something of me. She touched my arm. " No," I said. " He may challenge you." " Yes," I bitterly replied, " and you are afraid that I might kill him." Her eyes flashed. She went to the door, and, stand ing a moment with her hand resting on the knob, she bowed slightly and said: " As you please, Mr. Burwood. I shall say nothing more." CHAPTER IX. DELICATE CONSIDERATION. WE had made such progress with our work that the Colonel suggested the advisability of casting about for a publisher, and, for this purpose, it was decided that I should visit Louisville. The household was astir early one morning in November. The servants went about carrying lamps into the store-room and out into the smoke-house, and the dogs, thrilled with the memory of many a raccoon fight at daybreak, trotted jp and down the gallery, whining and sniffing the air. The Colonel stirred his toddy, standing at the old brass-knobbed sideboard in the dining-room, and Mrs. Osbury, drawn hither and thither by suddenly-arising demands, busied herself with preparations for my de parture. She was afraid that I might forget to take a comforter to wrap about my ears, for she knew that the weather was going to turn cold, and, in a most delicate way I hardly know how she asked if I were sure that my underclothing was thick enough. She knew that we were never so likely to take cold as when we were away from home, and she thought that, especially in the fall of the year, every one, just before leaving home, should put on woolen underwear. Old Buck came down, declaring that he hadn t sl$pt a wink, but he seemed to recognize the necessity of tak* H2 A KENTUCKY CvzONEL. ing an " eye-opener," for he mixed a long toddy and drank it with a noisy " swig." Luzelle came into the dining-room just as we sat down to breakfast. She spoke to me, while on her face there shone the faintest light of a smile; and standing near the fire-place she held her hands out over the blaze. When she had sat down, old Buck looked straight at her with his bulging eyes (and, indeed, he could have looked at her with no other kind, for a bulging pair was all he had), shook his head slowly, and remarked: "Ah, Lord." " What s the matter now, Uncle Buck? " " Oh, nothing, nothing." " Why did you look at me so hard and say, Ah, Lord ?" " Oh, I was just thinking just thinking what a difference has come over girls since my day. I know when they used to be out of bed and at the hand- loom way before day." " Did they do it because they wanted to or because they had to?" " Makes no difference, they done it." " Well, well," said the Colonel, " let it go. I know all about those days. I know that I used to plow before breakfast when I was a boy, and I know that I look back on it now with a shudder. Never plowed any, did you, Buck? " The old fellow gave the Colonel a hard look, with his jaws half open, as though the motion of chewing might lessen the necessary intensity of gaze, and, A KENTUCKY COLONEL. ! \^ slowly shaking his head, muttered, like a negro who has been confronted with a petty theft. " Remington," Mrs. Osbury whispered, " don t worry him." 44 I am sure that, even if Uncle Buck never plowed any, he once spaded up a flower bed for me," said Luzelle, glancing mischievously at her father. " Who the deuce said I never plowed any, missie? " Buck exclaimed. " I have plowed so early at morn ing that I had to hang lanterns on the hames so I could see the corn rows." " Pretty dark morning that, Buck," the Colonel replied. Mrs. Osbury looked up with a twinkling in her eyes. ;c Mr. Burwood," said she, " when you are in Louis ville you may see some of the men who worked for George D. Prentice." The Colonel winced at this reminder of his experience with the former pen-servants of the great journalist, but, determined not to surrender without an effort, spoke up as with the quickness of sudden recollection: * Oh, by the way, the revival season is over, isn t it?" "Why do you look at me so, Remington?" Mrs. Osbury asked. "Was I looking at you?" I merely happened to /emember something Henry said about the solemn restrictions you place on yourself during the domina tion of the mourners bench." " Go ahead, Remington, and make fun of religion all you want to, but there s coming a day when you will be sorry. e U4 A KENTUCKY COLONEL. After breakfast I was standing on the gallery waiting for old Tom and the buggy, when Luzelle came out. She paid no attention to me, but, sweeping away an entanglement of dead morning-glory vines, she stood, with one hand resting on the railing of the " banisters," gazing far out over the hill-tops that were purpling in a line with a coming flush in the east. The purple brightened and was then chased away by a flash of golden light. As Luzelle stood there, with the light of that new day falling upon her, a strange mist seemed to float away, leaving her face exposed anew showing it to me as I had never before seen it. I saw little defects which heretofore had escaped my notice. I saw that her upper lip was too short. But I worshiped her as she stood there worshiped her the more, I fancy, for the marks of mother earth, which, becoming visible, had begun to humanize her had begun to rob her of that indefinable etherealism with which I was wont to enrobe her. Her hair was tied back with a piece of red ribbon, and about her shoulders she wore a rich old China crape shawl, " This is the first sunrise you have seen for some time, is it not? " I asked. " Yes," she answered, the far-away dreaminess fading from her eyes as she turned them upon me. " But I love the early morning. It is always full of promise and hope, with none of noon s wise maturity or of evening s resignation. But what am I saying? You surely must think me a very foolish woman. T tell the truth, I am inclined to think so myself. How long do you expect to be gone? " A KENTUCKY COLONEL. 1 1 ^ "Two or three days." " Do you get tired of the country?" she asked. <: Not of so fine a country as this," I answered; " a country so different from the sandy dreariness and pine-bough sighing melancholy of North Carolina. " " I have never cared to live in a city," she responded. " I like every sound that comes from the woods, but every noise that comes from the street disturbs me. There s old Tom and the buggy." The Colonel, Mrs. Osbury and old Buck came out on the gallery. " Well, Phil," said the Colonel it was the first time he had addressed me thus " everything is about ready, I believe. Remember, now, and don t let those pub lishers get the upper hand of you. They are very shrewd men, I hear devilish shrewd and you ve got to keep your eyes open, or they will beat us out of our very boots. Mary, what on earth have you got wrapped up in that bundle? Is it a calf ? " " Remington, now what is the use of going on so? It is a lunch for Mr. Burwood." " What? Do you think he s going to walk and camp out?" " Never mind what I think. Here, Mr. Burwood." I knew that it would be useless to protest, so I took the bundle (I actually believe it contained a whole turkey and half a peck of biscuits), and was about to start toward the gate, when Mrs. Osbury, with sudden excitement, commanded me to wait a minute. I waited, and pretty soon she came out with a paper bag full of apples. " Here," she said, " you will want to give them jl6 A KENTUCKY COLONEL. to the poor children you may happen to meet along the road." "Take everything she gives you," the Colonel re marked. " Come on, Phil," he added, leading the way ; " everybody acts as if you were going off on a trip of exploration." When I had taken my place in the buggy, the Colonel called out, " Don t let them get the upper hand of you, Phil. Watch them watch them, or they will down you." There was many a shiver in the early morning air, but the door of Gap s cabin was open, and the pale child sat on the ground near the fence. A stick lay beside the little creature. Gap came out and asked: " Which way ?" I told him. "Wall, now," said he, "I b lieve I ll go to town with you. Got business thar. " 41 You ll not do no sich a thing," said his wife, sud denly appearing in the door. " You danced at a shin dig all night, an now you want to gad about. You shaint do it, that s all thar is uv it. Make out like you ve got religion an then go fiddlin about." " Don t reckon I ll go to-day," said the husband, with an impenitent grin. " Got a lot uv fiddlin round ter do. Wall, wush you good luck anyhow." The white turnpike stretched far away between two strips of brown. The yellowhammer, with his motion of dip, dip, dip, flew from far across the fields, and the sparrow-hawk, sailing round and round, kept his eye on a brush-pile where a quail had alighted. The field A KENTUCKY COL OT:EL: hands were gathering corn, and the boy, forced into the merciless work of keeping up the " down row," muttered profane imprecations against so joyless a pros pect. I did not hear him, yet I know he muttered, for I could see him cast an almost hopeless glance at the sun, wondering, I knew, if the dinner-horn would ever blow shaking his fist in the face of early morn ing holding out his tired arms in imploration toward tardy evening. As I came up on the top of a hill, I saw, just beyond the brow of the eminence, a woman standing beside a horse, trying to buckle the saddle-girth. I soon recog nized Miss Annie Bumpus. " Oh, you are just in time," she exclaimed when she saw me. " I can t get this old thing right. Now just look at it. " I got out and buckled the girth. " Shall I help you to mount?" I asked. " Yes er how far are you going?" " To Emryville." " So am I. Well, would you just as soon I would ride in the buggy with you and lead my horse?" I said yes and inwardly cursed myself "for having told her how far I was going. " Thank you. I thought you would like to have company. Let me see now. You can tie my bridle- rein to that rod so I won t be bothered; that s it. Oh, how much more comfortable this is. How are all the people the d ar old Colonel and all of them? Look out, you ll run down in there," pointing at a wash-out and attempting to seize the lines. " Well, you didn t, 1 1 8 A KENTUCKY COLONEL. did you? I don t see why they don t fill those places up just as soon as they occur. You haven t told me how all the folks are. " " You haven t given me time." " I suppose I do go on at a terrible rate. Mother used to compare me to a rattle-trap, but I know I m not that bad. When did you see Captain Jinny?" " I met him on the pike several days ago as he was coming from town." " Oh, he s charming, isn t he? Such nobility of ex pression. What a pity he lost his his foot. He and Major Hammonds are great friends. Oh, Major is a splendid man. He and the Captain go to town every morning, and come back every evening. Must be de lightful, spending so much time in the open air. When did they hear from Fred?" " They hear from him every now and then." " There isn t much to Fred. Oh, he s a good boy, but he hasn t much force. How do you like Luzelle?" " Very well," I answered. " Oh, such a nice girl, but she s got her faults. She gits real mad at me sometimes. She always was curi ous that way. If I only had possessed as many opportunities as she has thrown away, you better be lieve I would have improved them. " " What opportunities has she thrown away?" Oh, I don t know how many. She could have gone to Europe and studied art, and I don t know what all. I don t believe in contentment, myself. I don t think we ought ever to stop trying to mount higher and higher. Now, there s Henry Osbury. What s he A KENTUCKY COLONEL. 1.19 trying to do? Nothing on the top side or earth. Got plenty of sense, mind you, but doesn t seem to care for anything. It s come day, go day/ with him." " Is Captain Jinny making many efforts toward doing anything? " I asked. " Captain Jinny," she said, bowing and making a noise by sucking her lips," is a much deeper man than people give him credit for being. Of course, he doesn t make any great efforts, but whenever he sets out to do a thing he does it." I was thankful when we came within sight of the county seat, and, fearful that my companion, having much more information to deliver, might, recognizing the short remainder of our journey, attempt to hold me back in order to complete the volume, I whipped up old Tom and was soon driving along the main street; but, after all, I was too late for the morning train. " Take me to Captain Jinny s and hitch my horse for me, and I will be ever so much obliged," said Miss Bumpus. " Yonder is the place, right on the corner, by that elm tree." I complied with her wishes, and, without going in to see the watch-repairer, drove old Tom to a livery stable (one having been recently established), and than started out to find Henry Osbury. To find him was not difficult, for, above the door of a small, old and dingy brick office, I saw a sign bearing the words, " Henry Osbury, Real Estate Agent." The door was open, and I saw Henry, leaning back, with his feet on a table. When he saw me he wheeled about, at the 120 A KENTUCKY COLONEL. risk of demolishing his split-bottom chair, and, spring ing to his feet with as great activity as I supposed he was capable of exercising, he seized me with both hands. When we had sat down, and while, in his half-drawling voice, he was telling me how pleased he was to see me, I looked around to take stock of his quarters. In the center of the room there was an old table, covered with faded green baize; and over the table were scattered books and quill pens. An old map hung on the wall, and on a sort of wash-stand, immediately under the map, there was a small globe. These two articles, together with the uncarpeted and unswept floor, were all the real estate suggestions which the room contained. Shelves were filled with books, the corners of the room were loaded with books there were books everywhere. He had sober books in dark cloth, and frowning books in heavy leather. He had flimsy books in paper covers and sensational-looking books in red. " Do you write with a quill? " I asked. " Yes," he answered, puffing away at his briar-root pipe. " Its screak is a sort of companionship when I am writing. I suppose I am a sort of old fogy, any way. I am getting pretty well along; am ten years older than Fred. There were two children older than Fred and younger than I died early. " " Oh, Osbury," said a man, poking his head in at the door, " have you got a blank deed?" " No, believe not," Henry answered, without look- round. A real estate office without a blank deed! " You have quite a collection of books," said I. A KENTUCKY COLONEL. I 2 1 " Yes, they are coming in slowly. I am not a bib liomaniac, however. Thai is, I don t set great value upon rare editions. To me the latest edition is just as good as the first, for, in the matter of binding, I take just as much interest in the green grass of newness as I do in the dry moss of age. I do not value a friend simply because he wears old clothes." " I suppose fiction claims a large share of your atten tion." 11 Yes," he replied, smiling. " I am an idler rather than a student." " I don t think," said I, taking up " Middlemarch," 14 that we are merely idlers when we sit down with Geofge Eliot." " Burwood, I am glad to hear you say that. Of all writers of English fiction she is my favorite. I care not if she does attempt to drag in her philosophy; she makes me breathe a pure air, blowing from the orch ard where the apple trees are in bloom. Her peop e live. They are amusing without being caricatures, and are pathetic without committing violence upon our sympathies. What a contrast between Eliot and Bul- wer Lytton! When I read Bulwer I see a room where there is much cut glass and where there is some one rubbing a brass fender; but, turning to Eliot, I see a girl with a thoughtful face, looping up the rose-bushes in the garden." He knocked the ashes from his pipe, took up a cigar- box, raked his pipe about in it, filled the bowl with natural leaf, struck a match on the under side of the 122 A KENTUCKY COL ON&L. table, and, while waiting for the sulphur t burn off the match, said: " Of course I like American writers as a general thing I like them best but I don t think " he paused until he had lighted his pipe "don t think that any new writer could arise and loosen Eliot s hold on me. I cannot explain the fascination. Come in." A man had stepped up into the doorway. 11 Is this Mr. Osbury?" " Yes, sit down." " I have been thinking of making some investments in this neighborhood, and was told in Louisville that you would doubtless be the proper man for me to see." " Ah, hah. What sort of investment?" " I d like to buy a small farm near this place." How long will you be in town?" " I want to get away to-morrow." " Well, I am very busy just at present. I should like *to sell you a tract of land, but all that I have lies some distance from here. It would take at least a day to go out there and look at it. By the way, J. W. Haleworth & Co. just across the public square are large dealers, and are throughly trustworthy. If you cannot stay until I have time to go out with you, why, you might call on them." "Well, I believe I ll do so." " All right. Let s see, what were we talking about?" Henry asked when the man was gone. " Oh, yes, I was going on to acknowledge my inability to analyze the fascination Eliot has for me. But I suppose that 1 A KENTUCKY COLONEL. in this very inability lies, to me, her chief charm; for analysis is the dagger that lets the life-blood out of fiction s heart. Analyze a passion pick it to pieces, and it blows away. We must not analyze an oil paint ing, but must be satisfied with art with deception, for all art has been termed sublime deception." " Do you transact any business at all? " I asked, breaking a silence which followed Henry s latest remark. " Why, of course I do. But I didn t care to have any dealings with that man who came here just now. He carried the imprint of the bore; and I saw at a glance that nothing would please him better than to ride all day and talk land. I do not purpose to give an entire day of my life to such a man to such a rasping; unjuicy fellow even though it might result in selling a tract of .and." " By the way," I asked, taking up a copy of the Venerable East Magazine , " have you read any of Elvis Wigglesworth s poetry?" " I have read some of his rhyme," he answered. " Then you don t regard it as poetry?" " No; it is simply a clever construction of verse, admirable in mechanical exactness, but lacking in that warm grasp, that throbbing intensity of true poetry. I don t want a poem to smile merely, and shake its false hair in an attempt to make an impress ive bow. I want a poem to seize me with a thrilling grasp and breathe hot meter in my face. Say, old fellow, there will not be another train until ten o clock to-night. It is rather bad that you missed the other 124 A KENTUCKY COLONEL. one, but still I am glad of it. After dinner we will amuse ourselves by calling at the different departments. " Look yonder " (pointing toward the court-house). " There they sit, talking about horses and women. They are sitting in the sun now, and will continue to do so until along in the spring. Then they will follow the shade. I don t know how those fellows live. They have no profession no business, yet they dress pretty well and manage to buy the first watermelons of the season. Now, as regards dinner, we ll " " Hold on," said I. " Your mother put up an elab orate basket picnic, a sack of apples included, and compelled me to leave home thus provisioned. I was to give the apples to poor children along the road, but I either failed to see the children, or there were none. I left the outfit in the buggy-box. Why not get it and have luncheon here in the office ? " " The very thing ! " Henry exclaimed. " Rather have it than any set dinner that could be raked to^ gether in this town. You stay here, and I will go round to the stable." Just after Henry had gone, Lark Moss came in, hurriedly. "Mr. Burwood ! " he said, excitedly, " there is a drunken fellow out here, and he swears that he is going to kill you! He imagines that you have done him a wrong. By gracious, there is not a closet or anything for you to get in." " How do you know he wants to kill me ? " I ex claimed. Oh, he says so has been watching the house ever since you came in." A KENTUCKY COLONEL. " Look here, Moss, I don t want to be shot." " No, to be sure, but he s going to do it." " Where is the town marshal ? " "Oh, he s off playing cards somewhere. If I had a pistol I d give it to you and let you go out there and kill him, but I haven t got a thing. My gracious, he s coming" (looking out). "Both barrels of his gun cocked. Get up the chimney, Burwood, and I ll swear that you are not here. The fool has taken it into his head that you are the judge who once sentenced him to the penitentiary." I was uneasy was scared, and I doubt not that I should have attempted to squeeze myself into the chimney, had I not suddenly recalled Henry s remark relative to Moss love of joking. Then I turned upon the young man and closely studied his face, but, seeing no sign of mischief seeing nothing but deep serious ness I was about to yield, when, influenced to make a, hopeful experiment, I said : " Moss, you are a skillful joker." A mischievous light broke on his face, but, unwilling to surrender, he continued to talk of the fellow with the shot-gun. " You can t fool me, Moss. You did for a few ^noments, but I understand you now." Then he threw up his hands and shouted. He sat down, and was almost strangled. He laughed against the wall, leaning on the table, walking up and down the room laughed with his head thrown back and laughed with his head bowed over; and, as I looked 126 A KENTUCKY COLONEL. at him, I mused ; " Old fellow, I will get even with you for this. " Moss went away, still tittering, and I was standing in the door, musing over his peculiar, his ghastly idea of humor, when Henry returned. " Well," said he, " we ll have to eat dinner with Major Patterson. I found the buggy-box empty. I questioned the negroes, but of course they knew noth ing about it. Come, let s go to the hotel." I did not tell Henry of the joke which Moss had played upon me, for, having been warned, even though it was in an indirect way, against the fellow s prankish- ness, I felt ashamed of the momentary weakness which I had shown. Old Major Patterson remembered me. He also remembered his dry chuckle and his maneuvers ex pressive of a sort of shrinking fear that he might be in somebody s way. He told me, in a whisper, that the Prohibitionists no longer hac 7 die town by its dry throat, and that if I wanted a bottle he would slip out and get one. After dinner, we went over to call on Hammonds. Upon seeing us enter the door he seized his whiskers, squirted at a box of sawdust and came forward with an air of cordiality. After he had talked a long time with regard to his duties (breaking off occasionally to speak to Uncle Bob or Uncle John or Cap n Bill), he showed us his books, wherein he had written thousands of graceful but necessarily dull lines. While Henry and I were standing on the railway platform, just before the train arrived, Moss came up and asked us if we were going to travel. A KENTUCKY COLONEL. 127 " I am not," Henry answered, " but Burwood is going to Louisville." " Glad of it, for I am going there myself." " The train is coming," said Henry. " Burwood, I may go out home to-morrow, but I will bring old Tom back and keep him in the livery-stable until you return. " Moss undoubtedly strove to make himself agreeable, but he was surely an annoying fellow. His talk was of horses, and his voice, with the cadence of a neigh, arose above the roar of the train. We registered at the same hotel in Louisville, and, as annoying luck would have it, were assigned to the same room. Although the hour was late (or early, rather, for it must have been nearly day), Moss lay on his bed, smoking and telling, with occasional outbreaks of strong emphasis, about a horse he once owned. He talked horse until he sank into a jerky, spluttering sleep struggling with a nightmare, doubtless but even then kept up his " bridle-wise " remarks, for he occasionally cried out, " Whoa, hold up your foot, here." The next day I called on a publisher, and, determined that he should not " get me down," I exhibited no anx iety toward perfecting arrangements. Neither did he. That man, even after I had read to him several sheets of the " History of Shellcut," actually yawned. I knew that this was forced, and I knew that when I should get up to stalk out, with an independent air, he would call me back; but he did not. He permitted me to stalk out into the street. I was soon made to feel that the Colonel, instead of receiving a royalty on his book, would have to pay all the expenses of its publi I 28 A KENTUCKY COLONEL. cation. I knew that, so far as the mere question of money was concerned, this would cut but an insignifi cant figure in the bringing-out of the work. The harm lay in the fact that the Colonel s pride, his confidence in the importance of the literary enterprise, would re ceive a severe stab. One afternoon, the second day after arriving in the city, I was standing in the office of the hotel, when some one, approaching from behind, tapped me on the shoulder. Turning about, I recognized the detective who had once followed me. " Glad to see you," said he, with a dry laugh. " Holding forth out in Shellcut, are you?" "Yes." " Like it out there, I reckon." "Very much." Just then I saw Lark Muss take a seat out in front of the door. A mischievous desire for revenge came to me. " See that fellow sitting yonder?" I said, pointing, " That fellow with the reddish hair?" "Yes." "What of him?" " Nothing, only he is the man who robbed the Mick* leburgbank." " Nonsense." " All right. " " You are joking. " " Have it your own way, but if you want that re ward you d better keep watch of the gentleman." I went away, and did not return to the hotel until late A KENTUCKY COLONEL. I 2 g at night. When I asked the clerk for my key he said: " Detective Blue has been here three or four times looking for you. Played a joke on some fellow, didn t you ? " " Merely tried to get even with a friend." I went to my room. Moss was not there, and I laughed at the probability of his spending a night in prison. Of course he would be angry, but then, being a merciless joker, he should not rail against a merciless joke. I did not get up until late the next morning. When I went out into the hallway I found a newspaper lying on the floor. I took it up. These startling head lines glared at me : " He is Caught. The Robber of the Mickleburg Bank is Captured in this City. Excellent Work by Detective Blue and and a Man Named Philip Bur- wood. The Robber Highly Connected He Makes a Confession. " My head began to swim. I went back into the room and sat down. Made a confession ! Yes, this is the statement : " Don t reckon there is any use in trying to get out of it, said Moss to the detective late last night, for I can now see that Burwood has been keeping his eye on me all the time. But you bet my people will make it hot for him. Boyd Savcly is my cousin, and Boyd is one of the bell cattle, I can tell you. I believe them Britsides had something to do with this. Believe they hired Burwood to help humiliate our family, but you bet some body will hear hell a-popping pretty soon. If the Britsides are into it, an old feud will be opened up. It s only been half-buried for twenty years, and this ill wind has about blowed the dirt off. They have been trying to down the Savely stock in a hundred sly ways. But they ll get it. If I m ut to the penitentiary well, somebody will be sent to hell first. " 130 A KENTUCKY COLONEL. I sat there stupefied. I thought of many things. I saw Luzelle as she had stood with the light of a new day falling upon her CHAPTER X. THE RESULT OF A JOKE. THERE came a sharp rap at the door. " Come in," I cried. The detective entered. " Well, Mr. Burwood, I have had dealings with a great many odd men, but I must say that you take the lead. I didn t think there was a man in the world who could be so cool and unconcerned about so sensational a matter as the identity of a bank robber. What s the matter? Are you sick? " " Yes, I am sick sick of the fact that an intended joke should have so serious a result. I no more sus pected that Moss was a robber than I now suspect that you are the czar of Russia." I then explained why I had called his attention to Moss. " Well, this is a strange affair, surely. And you had no idea that he was a robber ? " " None whatever." " I hadn t, either, when you pointed him out, but I thought that, instead of joking him, you were trying to play a prank on me, and I should have paid no atten tion to him if I hadn t noticed perhaps it was a mere fancy something suspicious about him. I kept my eye on him, followed him everywhere he went, and at last, strangely influenced by something, I hardly know 132 A KENTUCK Y COL ONEL. what, I arrested him. When I had taken him to prison, I told him that it would be useless for him to attempt to hold out against facts; that he had been shadowed for some time, and that to make a confession was the most manly thing he could do. If he had shown any firmness whatever, I should have weakened, for, now that I had him, I could not have told, for the life of me, upon what grounds I had made the arrest. I had seen something suspicious, but we see something suspicious about every man when we begin to study him very closely, especially when our attention has been directed to him. But Moss threw up both hands, so to speak. He began to curse you and blow about the blood his people were going to shed, and I reckon they are pretty tough when they get stirred up. Now, look here, Burwood," he attempted to place his hand on my shoulder, but I waved him off, " if your part in this affair is simply a joke if your part in this arrest was simply a blunder, so to speak, you er you surely won t put in a claim for half of the one thousand dollars reward." " You may be at ease about that, Mr. Blue," I replied. " I wouldn t touch a cent of it even if I were starving." " I have never been moved by a sentiment so un worldly, " said he, with a smile which had no tendency to increase my respect for him, " but I congratulate any one who lives in such an atmosphere. I m not going to beg you to accept any of the reward, un derstand, but I ll say this: If you had to hustle for a A KENTUCKY COLONEL. living as I do, you d accept every cent that is shoved toward you." He sat on the edge of the bed, and for a time neithei of us spoke. " I ve hardly got the hang of this thing yet," he finally remarked. " In all my experience I never ran across such an accident we ll call it. You are not going back to Shellcut, are you? " "Yes." " I wouldn t, if I were you." "Why?" " Is it possible that you don t know why? Don t you understand those people well enough to know that you ll be held responsible for the disgrace of their kinsman? If I had known it was a mere joke on your part I wouldn t have mentioned your name to the reporter." " You might have known it; especially after dis covering that the fellow was actually the robber you wanted," I replied. " No sane man would have pointed out a robber as I did." " Oh, it looks that way, but how did I know? This world is full of peculiar men. How did I know but " " There is no use in discussing it now," I interrupted, " The work is done. I should like to see Moss. " " Come on, then. I went with Blue to the jail. He did not go in. I found Moss leaning against the grated door of his cell. When he saw me coming down the corridor, he seized the door and shook it violently. " Moss," said I, " the part I played in your arrest 134 A KENTUCKY COLONEL. was not intentional. I was merely trying to get even with you for " " You ve done it," he broke in. " I had no idea that you were a robber, Moss." * And I had no idea that you were a d d sneak." " Listen to reason, Moss." " I d rather listen to truth, but I don t hear it." " Wait a moment, and you shall hear it. Now, in the first place, what object could I have in trying to humiliate you ? If I had known that you had robbed the bank " " You would have given me away! " he exclaimed. " I would not shield any criminal," I replied, " but I should not have informed on you merely to humiliate your family. I have no object in disgracing you." " Yes, you have. You despise Boyd Savely you know why. You are a d d coward and are afraid to meet him like a man. Ah, you may bite your lips all you please, but I m giving you facts. How did you know what motive prompted me to rob the bank? I ll tell you I ll tell the world. Ten years ago my people put money in that bank. The thing failed. The smooth gentlemen shut their doors. We couldn t get a cent. They changed around, and about five years later opened up bigger than ever. Still we couldn t get a cent. My folks decided to let the thing go, but I didn t. My crop was a failure last year, and this year I needed money. I got it but what is the use of talking to a sneak? " " Moss, I can do nothing, I see, to convince you that A KENTUCKY COLONEL. my part in this affair was unintentional. I am extremely sorry " You d better be," he broke in. "You may think you ve played a sharp trick, but before it s done with you ll wish you hadn t been born. I have committed a crime in the eye of the law, but you have done worse. You have dragged a proud family down into the mire. And see here, don t fool yourself by believing that the Osburys will stand by you. Those people may honor the law, but they despise a sneak a suck-egg dog. Oh, you may blink your eyes. That girl will spit in your face if she ever sees you again. Why, d n your unprincipled soul, I kept Boyd Savely from shooting you like he would a dog. You say you are from the South. I have yet to see a Southern gentleman who is utterly without honor." " I can serve no purpose by talking to you, Moss. You will not heed an honest statement. In your estimation the robbery of the bank was an honorable act ; the disgrace lies in the discovery ; and, even though I admit that I have done you a wrong, I must maintain that I have rendered justice a service." He glared at me and violently shook the cell door. I turned away. He hurled a volume of oaths after me. At the jail door I was met by a reporter. I told him my story. He took it down, but I could see that he did not believe me. I returned to my room. Should I go back to Emryville and run the risk of being killed? Yes, I would go back. That evening upon taking up a newspaper I was again shocked. Moss had killed himself had cut his 136 A KENTUCKY COLONEL. throat with a pen-knife. I boarded the train for Emryville, forgetful of publishers and " The History of Shellcut County" forgetful of everything except the Colonel and his family of Luzelle. I arrived at Emryville about ten o clock at night. An old negro, wearing a tin sign on his hat the old negro who had once conducted me to Major Patterson s hotel met me on the platform. " Come back ergin, is you? " said he. " Glad ter see you, an den I ain t." " Anything wrong?" I asked. " Yas, sah, dar s er mighty heep er mutterin gvvine on, an you better look out but I reckon you s sharp ernuff. You mus be frum de North. Huh, how you did pick up dat man. Step dis way, sah; de haugs been wollerin ober dar. Dang us bein er tective, ain t it, Cap n?" " I am no detective!" I exclaimed, turning fiercely upon the old fellow. He staggered back and dropped his lantern. " Dar," he said, " you dun skeered dis yere light out. Got er match erbout you?" (taking up the lantern). " Neber mine, here s one. You mus scuze me ef I s sorter tramped on yo toes. I lowed dat ef er man is er tective he wuz proud o it, like er sheriff an er jestice o de peace is. " " You say you have heard a great deal of mutter ing." " Yas, sah, dat s whut I said, an it s er fack, too." " Have any threats been made?" ." Yas, sah, an it s might ly tangled up. De Savely A KENTUCKY COLONEL. side takes in de Mosses an de Hightowers an some po white folks dat lives up on de ridge lows dat de Britsides takes in de Mayfields an de Perdues an some po folks dat lives way over on Caney Fork put you ter watchin ter see ef you couldn t fine out suthin ter grace de Savelys. De Savelys say da gwine hurt somebody, an de Britsides say, pitch in. De Britsides say, da do, dat da s yo frien , makes no ciirTunce ef you is er tective, an dat da gwine stan up fur you. Da wuz all jes achin fur er fight, anyhow, sah, an it wuz gwine come sooner or later. Step dis way, sah. " " I m not going to the hotel. I m going to get the horse and buggy and go out to Colonel Osbury s." " I ll git de hoss. You stay right here." " Hold on a minute. Is Henry Osbury in town? " " Tuck de train fur Louisville dis ebenin , sah. You met him bout ha f way." I was soon on my way to the farm. The night was clear and cool, and the white turnpike, stretching far away, was ghostly where it bent over the top of a hill, and the shrub-covered spurs that came down from the ridge frowned with dark foreboding. Old Tom trotted faster and faster as he nearedhome. I saw a dark object on the brow of a hill heard the sounds of approaching hoofs. A horseman came gal loping toward me. " Helloa! " he called, reining up his horse. " Helloa! " I replied, in a disguised voice. The horse galloped on. The man was Boyd Savely, When I reached the big gate that opened out on the 138 A KENTUCKY COLONEL. turnpike, I saw a light burning in the library. The Colonel was evidently expecting me. Just before ar riving at the yard gate I met some one. " Dat s ole Tom, I knows," said a voice. " Who are you? " I asked. " Isom, sah." It was the negro who had advised his friends to vote " saft an easy. " " Take old Tom to the stable, Isom," said I, getting out of the buggy. " Yas, sah. Look yere, did you meet somebody? " "Yes why?" " White man been roun yere snortin like er goat. Dat Mr. Savely been yere. Come orderin me roun , too, he did, an I doan like dat. I tole him dat long ez you d been yere you neber ordered me roun none; den he cussed you. Den I says, Look yere, Mr. Savely, doan cuss dat man, caze he s my frien , an I ain t gwine put up wid it. Is you got er quarter, sah? I got to go down yere an git some medicine fur thankee, sah, thankee. Oh, er man jes nachully kain t come to me an talk erbout my frien s." I did not knock at the front door, for, finding it partly open, I entered the hallway. The hanging lamp was burning dimly. Not a sound broke the deep and ominous stillness yes, that stra nge, cracking noise that seems at midnight to come from the weary joints of an old house. I tapped at the library door. The Colonel s voice bade me enter. " Great God, Burwood, what have you done! " he exclaimed, when I stepped into the room. He had been lying on the sofa, but, upon seeing me, he sprang A KENTUCKY COLONEL. 139 up, with the flush- of sudden exertion on his face. " What have you done? " he repeated. " If I have done anything wrong," I replied, " it was not premeditated. Listen to me for a few moments. Sit down lie down, and let me tell you, as quietly as I can, how far from being intentional was the part I have played in this farce. I can think of no other befitting term." He sat down, and I stood waiting for him to light his pipe, which he had taken up and filled. Then I told him of the joke which Moss had played upon me and how I good-humoredly attempted to repay him. " What you say is true, Burwood, I know it is; but, understand this, my boy, even if you had discovered that fellow to be a criminal and had purposely given him over to the law, even though twenty families might be weighted down by disgrace, by the eternal God, I would stand by you! " He had sprung to his feet and was walking up and down the room, cracking and breaking the pipe-stem in his hand. I rushed toward him, but he waved me back. " By the great God of civilization, it is time for the people of this State to throttle that ruffianism which desperate ignorance is pleased to term a just resent ment of an insult. Philip, you are in for it, though, and nothing but your own coolness and determination can aid you. I am a lover of law and order, but let me tell you, my boy, when a man looks for me, he finds me. I did not want to mention Boyd Savely s name, but I am compelled to. He has been here several times looking for you; he left here not more A KENTUCKY COLONEL. than an hour ago, declaring that he was going to town. He and Henry had a quarrel, and Henry went to Louisville, but you left, I suppose, before he arrived " " Yes, we must have passed each other about half way. Savely made threats against me, of course." " Well, not in an open way, but we all understood him. To me, Boyd has been almost like one of my own children. His father and I were devoted friends, and it was understood between us that our families should be connected by a stronger tie than friendship. But we won t discuss that." He sat down, after finding another pipe and filling it; and, after smoking a few moments, said: " Sit down there, Phil, and let us take a survey of the field. The Savely and Britsidesfeud is unquestionably opened up. Boyd s father was killed by a Britsides. At least two hundred people will be involved, and, in spite of anything the law can do, a bloody fight will be the result. You cannot, with credit to yourself, keep out of it, for the Savelys will hunt you as they would a fox. I told Boyd that I could not uphold him in this matter; that, so far as his faction and the Britsides were concerned,, I was surely and firmly his friend, but that I would stand up against all odds for you, Burwood. Keep your seat, suh ; keep your seat. This is no time to grab hands. To grab measures is now the thing. Our association, Phil, has been most pleasant. I really understand you better than I ever did any man, and I believe that you understand me. You have aided me in one of the keenest delights of my life. But we won t A KENTUCKY COLONEL. 141 talk about that. You saw Moss after he was impris oned? " "Yes." "What did he say?" " He denounced me." " Of course, and he expressed no hope of escaping the penitentiary." " He expressed no such hope, -but he has escaped it." " How so what do you mean ?" "He has killed himself." " What !" The Colonel sprang to his feet again and walked up and down the room. " This destroys the last hope of a compromise," said he. " How did he kill himself?" " With a pen-knife. " " Didn t they search him before putting him in jail ?" " I suppose so." " Then how did he get the knife ?" " No one knows." The Colonel sat down again. After a few minutes silence he remarked : " Perhaps it s better. You are not acquainted with any of the Britsides, are you ?" "No." " Some of them are pretty fair sort of people ; some of them are very bad. Jim Britsides, the leader, met me on the pike to-day. He asked when you would be likely to return, and told me to tell you that he would stand by you. He was apparently delighted at the turn affairs had taken hailing with pleasure the approach of a long-looked-for day. I told him how 1 742 A KENTUCKY COLONEL. stood. He, of course, knew how I felt toward Boyd, but was surprised to hear me speak so openly in your favor. I wish it were over with. It s a tangled-up affair, and it would be impossible to unravel it so as to make it intelligible to any one living out from under our peculiar conditions. One thing must be looked to especially. You and Boyd must not meet here. And, another thing, Burwood, don t kill him if you can help it. Of course, you must look out for your self, but come in." Some one had tapped on the door. Mrs. Osbury, fol lowed by Luzelle, entered. "Oh, Mr. Burwood!" exclaimed the motherly woman, " what are we all coming to ? Oh, isn t it a shame that people cannot live in peace ? I don t believe you are a detective, Mr. Burwood." She seized my hands. " No, I do not believe it. I don t believe that you want to drag any one down. Don t stay here go away until this disgraceful outbreak is over. Go away, Mr. Burwood, for God s sake go away. Don t you see how much we all think of you ? Don t stay here. Go away, please. " Luzelle sprang forward, snatched her mother s hands away, and, violently stamping the floor, exclaimed: " What, would you have him run away like a coward! " " Oh, he must go!" Mrs. Osbury implored, attempt ing to lead me toward the door. " Must he run away like a thief?" Luzelle cried in anger. " Must all your friends be sniveling cowards ? A KENTUCKY COLONEL. Mr. Burwood, if you are a man, stand your ground and meet whatever may come!" The Colonel stood, looking with pride upon his daughter. If I had never before felt in my veins the strong surge of the blood of determination, I surely should have felt it at that moment. "Miss Osbury," said I, "your remarks are quite enough to spur any one to manly exertion. But, so far as I am concerned, they are unnecessary. Had 1 intended to run away I should not have come back to this place." She bowed. A cold smile lighted her face. " Don t pay any attention to what she says, Mr. Bur- wood," Mrs. Osbury pleaded. " Think of the awful crime of shedding human blood. Brother Buck, come here." (Mr. Hineman had entered.) " Tell Mr. Bur- wood to go away make him go!" Old Buck was in his shirt sleeves, and one suspender was hanging down. " I didn t know but the house was on fire," said the old fellow, shading his eyes from the light. " Go away!" he exclaimed, when he had become wide enough awake to realize the meaning of Mrs. Osbury s implorations. " Why, damn my cats may the Lord forgive me for the expression he can t go away. He s in for it, Mary, he s in for it, and I hope he ll shoot the top of that Boyd Savely s head off." I seized the old fellow s hand. " Yes, I do, and I ve got a pistol that carries a ball like a walnut. Hope you ll kill the scoundrel. Tramped on my flute and split hell out of it, Burwood may the Lord forgive me. I A KENTUCKY COLONEL. don t want to swear, Remington, you know that. You know that, even if I don t go to church, I m not pro fane. Burwood" (still shaking my hand), don t you let em run over you - don t you do it. There s a class of fellows in this neighborhood that tries to raise a row with every new man that comes here. Why, blast their hides, they would have run me off long ago if they could have done it." "Buck," said the Colonel, unable to suppress a smile, " I don t know that anybody has ever tried to run you off." "That s all right, Remington, but I know it I know it devilish well. But they didn t. They knew of an old dueling-pistol that shoots like a belch from perdition. That s what held them off. You ve all let Boyd Savely run over you, that s what you ve done," he added, dropping my hand and turning to the Colonel. "Just because the father was your friend, you think the son ought to have the privilege of trampling on you. But he can t trample on me. I want him to understand that. What harm did I ever do him? If he didn t want to hear my flute, why didn t he stay away? Don t you let them fellows run over you, Bur- wood don t you do it. Now, Mary, just let him alone let him alone. Don t try to persuade him to be a coward. Luzelle, you where is she?" Luzelle was gone. Mrs. Osbury, with tearful eyes, extended both her hands to me. " Mr. Burwood," she said, "perhaps every one knows better than I do } but God knows that I would not advise you against A KENTUCKY COLONEL. your interest. Good night, and may Heaven bless you." "Hush," said the Colonel, " some one halloaed at the gate. Go on upstairs, Mary. It s only Burwood s friends. Please go on." Mrs. Osbury withdrew reluctantly, and the Colonel went to the door. "Who is it?" he called. " Jim Britsides," a voice replied. "Come in." " Nobody there that I don t want to see, I reckon." "No." " Has that man Burwood got back?" "Yes." A few moments later I was introduced to Jim Britsides. He was tall and lean, with a thin growth of wiry whiskers on his chin. On each of his sallow cheeks there was a scar. His eyes were small and restless, and his nose was thin and extremely prominent. He wore his trousers stuffed into his boot-tops, and in his belt he carried several large, pearl-handled pistols. " Ain t got but a minit to stay, Colonel. A lot of the boys air waiting out there. Curious the turn things have taken don t mean that it s curious that the war should have come up, but it s curious that I should be here. Don t want to say nothing against anybody s friends, but nothing could have kept this thing off much longer. They only made your act, Mr. Burwood, a pretext, but I knowed that the Savelys would somehow try to fasten it on us. Now, I don t 146 A KENTUCKY COLONEL. reckon you air used to this sort of thing, Mr. Bur- wood, and I m sorry you have to take a hand in it, but you ll have to, or be followed wherever you go. They ve made up their minds to kill you, and they ah goin to do it if they can. They want^to kill as many of us as they can incidentally, but they want to kill you in particular er haw, haw! I was might ly sup- prised to find that this house, above all others, should be neutral ground that is, not exactly neutral, but leanin toward both sides but we never know in this section how the cat is going to jump. How air you fixed for guns, Mr. Burwood?" " I have no fire-arms at all." " You can have my dueling-pistol, I tell you," said old Buck. Britsides grunted contemptuously. "Dueling-pistol! he repeated. " What does he want with that?" "To shoot with." " Bah! do you reckon we are going out and ask fel lers to stand up and be shot at? Just as well take a brickbat as that thing. We ve got guns a-plenty. Come, let s ride." The Colonel and old Buck followed us to the gate, and at parting spoke many words of encouragement to me. Old Buck was a little hurt, I think, at my failure, or perhaps inability, to place the correct estimate upon his dueling-pistol, but when, just before mount ing, I told him how sorry I was that a misfortune had befallen his flute and that I hoped he could patch it back into its normal condition of high straight notes A KENTUCKY COLONEL. 147 and medium-ground tremolo, his wound was healed as if by a miracle. Britsides introduced me to a number of his followers. They were exceedingly cheerful, and I was more re minded of a family reunion than awakened to the active existence of a feud. " Burwood, you ride at the head of the gang with me," said Britsides. " Come ahead, boys. That animal you are on, Burwood, is a mover, I tell you. I didn t want the Colonel to furnish you a hoss wouldn t look exactly right so I thought I d bring Jeff along. Raised him from a colt." He reached over and fondly stroked the horse s mane. " Boys, we ll turn off at the first road to the right an* go down into the beech woods and meet the other fellows at the old Lick meeting-house. Do you know, Burwood, that I can hardly get over the fact that the old Colonel ain t high up in arms in favor of the Savelys. I ll tell you what, young man; you have had a bigger influence on him than any other ten men could have had. I wouldn t dared have gone there just now if I hadn t previously met him on the pike and found out how he stood. Never was more surprised in my life. He ain t against Boyd, understand, but he ain t in favor of him by a blamed sight." " What is your programme? " I asked. " Well, we ll go to the meeting-house, meet the other fellows, and sleep there till day." " You are not looking for the Savelys," said I. " No, we ain t looking for each other now. We arc simply carrying on a sort of flirtation. We mustn t 148 A KENTUCKY COLONEL. look for each other, you understand. We must meet by accident. The idea is to be at a place first. Then the party that comes last is to blame. Circuit court meets in Emryville to-morrow, and I thought we d bet ter go over. I ve got a case that I think will be called early, and I want to get there about sunrise. We don t want to fire the first shot, you understand, We ll simply go to town, hitch our hosses, and walk around attending to whatever business we may have, peace able as a lamb, but if a pistol happens to go off, then hell breaks loose and dances a jig. Alf !" " Here," answered some one riding in the rear. " Did you tell Lit Mayo to send that bread over to the meeting-house?" "Yes." " All right. We ll be as hungry as wolves about daybreak. Ah, Burwood, how this reminds me of war times. I was a sort of guerrilla, and you better believe I went through places so narrow that my shoulders touched each side. Hold on. Gabe! " " Here." " Can we turn off here and get into the beech woods without going through a field? " " Don t think we can. There s some new ground been taken in. It s not very far around, though." " All right. Yes, suh," Jim Britsides continued, addressing me, " this reminds me of those dangerous times when a man wa n t any safer than a hoss and a hoss wa n t safe at all." He hummed a tune, and as the memory of his guer rilla days lent a blithesome influence to his rising spirits, A KENTUCKY COLONEL. he muttered the words of an old song. I felt within me no movement of minstrelsy; no sweetening impulse of revenge quickened my blood with the promise of a glad day of reckoning. The coming strife could wipe no stain from the soiled honor of my family. I felt that I was an outlaw, and I rode along in a condition of regretful brooding, and then old Human Nature touched me with his thrilling finger touched me and pointed at a man who, with an insulting air, shook his wavy hair in my face. " Yonder is the church," said Jim Britsides, " and I reckon the congregation is on hand. Hold on a min ute. Ho, Luke! " he called. " All right ! " came an answer from the house. " Come on, boys," Britsides added, " we d better hitch our hosses as close to the church as we can, and then snatch a little sleep." A number of men, some of them far from being en gaging in appearance, were in the church, and in an enormous fire-place a log fire roared. One old fellow, with his sleeves rolled up, was baking ash-cakes, and a boy, whistling in his enjoyment of the part he was tak ing in the campaign, was cutting thick slices from a ham. " We don t want anything to eat until just before daylight, Lias," said Jim Britsides, speaking to the old fellow, " but you d better have everything ready. Bur- wood, you d better spread your saddle-blanket over there in the corner and lie down." I lay there musing, but, I must confess it, not in deep regret. The wild scene was fascinating. The old man hummed a tune. A screech-owl cried. CHAPTER XI. A DESPERATE DAY. IT SEEMED that I had just crossed the frontier line of semi-consciousness and stepped into the fantastic republic of sleep, when Jim Britsides commanding voice aroused me. " Come, boys, hustle up; day is crawling down out of the hills. Burwood, you ve slept like a log. Come, and let s eat a snack. We ve got cold flour bread, warm ash-cakes, ham and coffee strong enough to float an iron wedge." He moved about, arranging his war-like trappings, and, touching a drowsy young fellow with his foot, sang: " Wake up, Jacob, Day s a-breakin , Fire in the stove and hoe-cake bakin ." The boy whom I had seen slicing the ham (he could not have been more than fifteen years old) laughed gleefully. He was a handsome youth, with large blue eyes. " Tickles you, don t it, Sam ? " an old man said. " Yes. Bob don t want to get up cause he thinks he s got to go plowin , I reckon. Uncle Jim " (addressing Britsides), " I ll bet this fuzee " (tapping a pistol) " is the first pole to knock a persimmon." 150 A KENTUCKY COLONEL. " It s long enough," Britsides answered. " Yes, and strong enough. I killed a dog across the creek with it." " Good enough. You mout have to kill a dog across the street with it. Pitch in, all hands. Bur- wood, that cup leaks. Let me have it, and you take this one." " I wonder where we ll all be this time to-mor row morning," remarked the old man who had baked the ash-cakes. " Some of us may be where it s hotter than it is in this fire-place," Sam replied. " I don t know about that," said a sandy-haired fel low, moving from in front of the fire and attempting to hold his scorching jeans trousers away from the calves of his legs; " but if it is, you may count me out. Pass the sweetenin over this way, as the feller said at the party when a girl kissed her podner. Whew! the hinges to the gates of torment are frost-bit compared to this coffee." " Drink it down, and let it cool as we ride along," Jim Britsides replied. " More meat, Burwood." " No more." " Better eat; mout not get any dinner." " Might not need any." " That s a fact. You may take those sixes, "he con tinued, pointing to a brace of pistols lying on a blanket. " Better fill your pockets with cartridges. Look here," he suddenly added, " you look like you was drawed into this thing against your will that is, you appear mighty loth to take your wn part. Now, let me tell 152 A KENTUCKY COLONEL. you, young man, those fellows would kill you in a minute if they had a chance." " I don t doubt that, but I do not see why sensible men cannot accept an explanation. It was simply a joke on my part, and I can t understand why a whole community should rise up in arms. " " I tell you," Britsides answered, " that they make your act a pretext, and, to tell the truth, the majority of them believe that you were hired by us to humiliate theSavelys." " I should think," said I, " that the officers of the law would make an effort to keep the two factions apart. " " How can they? The citizens of Kentucky have a right to go to town, haven t they? " " Yes, but not armed, ready to engage in deadly encounter." " Who is supposed to know what their intention is? Any man has a right to carry a gun, and no officer need know that you ve got a pistol until you begin to use it, and he ain t going to put himself to much trou ble to take it away from you then, I reckon. Come, fellows, it s time to be moving." Day was just breaking when we mounted our horses. The screech-owl fluttered from his bower of green-briar vines, and the fox, startled from his nap, which, after a night of revelry, he had dropped into at early morn ing, scampered up the hillside. The air was heavy with a promise of rain, and the sun, when he showed himself above a rugged spur of the distant ridge, broke in dull streaks like an addled egg. A KENTUCKY COLONEL. 153 " We won t go in on the main street," said Britsides, speaking to me. " We ll sorter scatter before we get to town, ride in unconcerned and hitch our horses, and then stay as close together as we can. Joe Britsides, my cousin, stayed there last night, and will tell us how the land lays. If nothing happens we ll go around to old Major Patterson s and get something to eat about dinner-time. You ve met the old fellow, haven t you ? " " Yes," I answered. " He is a peculiar old man, so careful lest by some unweighed word he might give offense. Such an outbreak as this must greatly frighten one so timid." Jim Britsides laughed. " Alf," he called. "Here." " This man says that old Patterson must be frightened at one of these outbreaks, he s so timid." Alf snorted, and the boy Sam, who rode just behind me, giggled. " You don t know that old fellow," said Jim Britsides. " He s the gamest man I ever saw. He s had more fights and whipped more fellows than any man in Shell- cut. His family feud is all wiped out ; he s the only survivor of both factions. He d rather stand out and burn powder than to eat the sweetest pie that was ever baked. He is getting old, though, and is sorter quiet ing down. Zeb! " "Yes." " We ll cross the creek below the rock bridge, and hitch, as many of us as can, in the lot back of Potter^ store." 154 A KENTUCKY COLONEL. The little town was scarcely awake when we rode in. Here and there clerks were sweeping out the stores. The town cow, bruised by many a brickbat, knock-kneed and mournful of countenance, stood on the public squa re and bawled in echoing complaint of her own wretchedness; but the town hog, active, hungry and greedy, ran hither and thither, overturning goods boxes and scattering piles of trash that had been swept from the stores. We dismounted in the vacant lot indicated by Jim Britsides, hitched our horses to racks and fences, and stood about with the apparent carelessness of the aver age farmer who comes to town on court day. I saw no hostile sign, and as the town began to awake to its droning occupation, I fancied that, after all, there might be no danger of a conflict, and I so expressed myself to Jim Britsides. He smiled grimly, and, pointing to a fellow who was skulking along a back street, replied: " Yander s one of them now. Oh, they ll all be here; don t you fret about that. " " I wouldn t do much fretting if none of them came," I answered. " But I would," he rejoined, wrinkling his chin and scratching his wiry whiskers. " This thing has been on the quiver until I want to see it settled one way or the other. Ah, how air.you, Joe?" (speaking to a man who came out of a back door.) " How is everything?" "All right, I reckon?" " Many of them here?" " Not yet, but they air droppin in putty peart." A KENTUCKY COLONEL. 155 " Have you seen anything of Boyd Savely?" " No, but he is in town." " How long has he been here?" " Stayed here nearly all night. " " Has Henry Osbury returned?" I asked. " No. You are Mr. Burwood, ain t you?" "Yes." " Glad to meet you. What time is it?" " Eight o clock," I answered, looking at my watch. " Sam," said Jim Britsides, " put that pistol down in your britches. We don t want to commence the fight, understand." " I don t care who commences it," the boy responded, " but you bet I ain t goin to let none of them run over me." " Boys," Jim Britsides remarked, " we ll sorter use this place as headquarters. Don t sa nter off very far." I sat down on a box. There were but few buildings to obstruct our view of the main part of the town. The court-house was near, and I could see the farmers sitting on the steps. The town marshal, with his immense hickory stick, walked up and down the street. A man poked his head out of an upper window of the court-house, and yelled : " T. V. Balch! T. V. Balch!" The farmers got up and went into the house ; a man, evidently T. V. Balch, came out of a " doggery " and hastened up the steps; an old negro drove an ox wagon on the square, and in a lusty voice proclaimed the great commercial fact that he had ginger-cakes and cider for sale ; and a patent-medicine man, standing on a cor- 5* A KENTUCKY COLONEL. ner, entertained a motley crowd. Dogs fought, mares neighed for their wayward colts. After a while the voice of a lawyer could be heard, pleading the cause of some unfortunate wretch. A heavy cloud had blotted out the sun. The air was sultry, and a low rumble of thunder came from the west. Nearly twelve o clock. Our men were walking about or lazily lean ing against a fence. Sam sat in a large goods box, humming a tune. Britsides and several of his followers had been gone for some time. The tavern bell rang for dinner. Suddenly there came from the square a loud cry of " Look out ! " and then there came the start ling report of a gun. Quick as the wink of an excited eye, the lazy scene in the lot was turned into nerve- strung alertness. Jim Britsides bounded over the fence. He had lost his hat, and his long hair streamed like the mane of a runaway horse. " Out with your guns ! " he yelled. " Out with your guns, for the devil has broke loose. Steady, here they are! " In a moment a party of men, some of them on horseback, dashed around the corner and opened fire upon us. It was a desperate assault, almost a surprise, but Britsides men, without a tremor, met the attack that is, I have been told so, for to me it was fierce, almost self-forgetful excitement, visible only in glimpses. Yell after yell howls of rage, oaths and exultant cries of vengeance, as an enemy fell in a hand-to-hand encounter. I saw a Savely beat down a Britsides and blow out his brains, and then I saw young Sam shoot the Savely dead. A A KENTUCKY COLONEL. 157 L-;rse, ridden by a Savely, dashed upon me hemmed me up in a corner. I felt the animal s hot breath upon my face. The rider stood high in the stirrups and swung a Winchester rifle over my head. The gun fell the man rolled off the horse, dead. Young Sam Britsides waved his hand at me and laughed. Timely was his shot, for my pistols were empty. I did not see Boyd Savely, but once I thought that I heard his voice, urging his men to keep cool. We were out numbered ; the fence was broken down, and we were forced out upon the public square. The fight thus far although it was hours tome could not have lasted more than a few moments, for excited people, not hav ing had time to get out of the way, were fleeing up and down the streets, and the court-house doors were thronged with men struggling to force their way out. Wounded horses broke loose from the racks, and plunged furiously among the people; a dog, with a shot through his body, howled with a death tone in his voice; a runaway team struck the patent-medicine man s stand and scattered his bottles in every direction; one of the steers yoked to the old negro s cider wagon dropped dead, and the other one, without the least show of concern, stood chewing a mouthful of hay. There was no time for contemplation what I did see I saw at a mere glance. On the square our men were scattered. Some of them fought from behind the corners of the court house, but, dislodged, were forced further back. Now I could see Boyd Savely. His hat was off, and I saw him throw back his head and shake his wavy hair. 158 A KENTUCKY COLONEL. The next moment a Britsides who had, without inten tion, stepped in front of me, sank to the ground. Jim Britsides was here, there, everywhere, it seemed. " The blacksmith shop! " he cried. " Run for the blacksmith shop! " The shop was just .down the street from the court house. In a moment more we were fighting from its gloomy precincts. I wondered why Britsides had not ordered his men into the court-house, but soon discov ered his reason: the Savelys had forestalled him. The firing was now slow and deliberate. A bead was drawn on every head that showed itself. " Keep cool, men," said Jim Britsides. " Don t throw away your powder. Keep it in case they make a rush. God, but they have used us up ! Listen ! Some of our men are still up the street. Our force is split. Where is Sam ? Zeb, have you seen Sam ? " " Not since we left the lot. He s all right, though, I reckon." " They got the bulge on us, but it had to be, Bur- wood." " Why so ? " I asked. " I knew they had their plans all made, but I was laying my pipes to outwit them. That lot was a good place to meet, but a bad place to fight. Burwood, you got up off the box, once, didn t you ?" "Yes." " Your head showed above the fence. Bill Moss drawed a bead on it with a Winchester, and in another second the top of your head would have gone off, but A KENTUCKY COLONEL. 159 1 dropped the gentleman. That s the reason the fight began before I intended it. Look out ! " A bullet fired from the court-house knocked a draw ing-knife from the wall. " Mr. Britsides, I don t know how to express my thanks." " Don t try. Look out, boys, they are getting the range on us. I m uneasy about Sam. Hah wait a minute." He leveled a rifle and fired. A man fell from an upper window of the court-house. " There s a lot of them outside ! " Zeb exclaimed. " They are going to make a rush." " Steady, boys, steady," Jim Britsides quietly re marked, shoving a cartridge into his gun. " Don t shoot till they get up close. Hold on ! don t shoot at all. By the Lord, some of our boys are on the other side of them. Sam is with them. Ah, they know he s there." It was now evident that Sam and several others of the Britsides faction were trying to reach us, and that the Savelys, instead of preparing for a rush upon the shop, were endeavoring to prevent them. For a time we lost sight of Sam, but we soon discovered that he and his followers were trying, by means of a round about way, to join us; but the Savelys were wide awake, and we could see them dodging from place to place, always keeping something between themselves and the boy s deadly aim. Sam, by an unexpected move, gained an advantage, and emerged in the street between us and the Savelys. He ran ^apidly toward A KENTUCKY COLONEL. the shop, waving his hat, and, although he was ex posed to the Savelys fire, we could aid him but little, fearful of shooting our own men. The Britsides cheered lustily, but suddenly the cheering ceased. Several of the Savelys ran out of an alley in front of the boy. This was the time for me to act. Without a thought of danger without a thought except that the boy had saved my life I sprang through a window. Britsides and his men followed me, for I heard their voices be hind. It seemed that, with one long bound, I was at the boy s side. I saw his pale face, his large blue eyes blazing a cold smile upon his lips and then I saw him sink to the ground. A bullet had passed through his head. I held him up his blood gushed upon my hands. I seemed to have then lost consciousness of my surroundings, but I remember that a heavy blow came down upon my head, that a horse s breast jammed me against a wall. Suddenly I seemed to awake. I found that I was in an alley. I could hear firing, but no one was in sight. I leaned against the wall, weak, almost fainting. Hearing pistol shots not far distant, I looked down the alley, and there, not more than twenty yards away, stood Boyd Savely. He was standing in an open space at the mouth of the alley, deliberately firing across a lot. " It is my shot now," I said, and with my pistol I took aim at his hair. The Colonel s words came back tome. I lowered the pistol. Just then Savely turned. He saw me, and, raising his left arm, he laid his pistol across it. I saw his gray eye close. I was spell-bound I could not move. " I wonder how long before h* A KENTUCKY COLONEL. will shoot," I mused. " Why does he keep me stand ing here so long? Why didn t I shoot him? Why don t I shoot him now? It is too late." I thought of Luzelle, and, thrilled, sprang to one side. A bullet grazed my hair. Some one from behind seized me by the arm. :< I want you," said a stern voice. " I am the sheriff. " I offered no resistance, but submissively accompanied the sheriff to the street, where I was seized by two men, who, giving me no chance to conduct myself as a well -conditioned prisoner, almost dragged me down the street. A yelling mob followed us, and in the noisy throng I saw Jack Gap, reeling with drunken ness. I was taken to the jail, an old brick building facing a back street, and locked in a cell on the ground floor. The mob outside gradually dispersed, and, left with profound silence for my companion, I sat down on a bunk and strove to collect my flighty senses. In my semi-dazed condition I fancied that my thoughts lay scattered about the town and that I should never be rational until permitted to go out and gather them up. My head ached from the effect of the blow which I had received, and my eyes, I imagined, were trying to jump out for relief. My hat was gone and my clothes were torn. I must have been sitting there a long time, for the blurred streaks of dull day had ceased to come in at a small window near the ceiling of the corridor, when a short, fat man, carrying a lamp with one hand and a large tin plate with the other, approached my cell. 11 1 62 A KENTUCKY COLONEL. " Here s something to eat," he said, shoving the plate through an opening. " The vidults ain t of the best nor none too plentiful, but the coffee will help you. I ll set the lamp over here where you can see. That s a putty good-lookin watch you ve got there," he added, when I had looked to see what time it was. " Don t want to swap it for a better one, do you ? " "No." "All right; don t care much about swappin myself, but I lowed you mout be wantin to pass the time away somehow. This has been a hot day fur old Emryville, ain t it?" " Yes, and particularly so for me. Did they arrest any one else? " " No, couldn t catch em." " Didn t try very hard, did they? " " Wall, they didn t break no hamstrings. You was the man they was after mostly." "Why?" " Wall, the officers lowed, they did, that you was the man that brought on the trouble. The Savelys told em that you and the Britsides fellers was comin in to raise a row." " We won t discuss the question as to who caused the trouble. Do you know how many men were killed?" " Not exactly, but a good many, and two citizens that didn t have nothin to do with it was wounded. There s a mighty heap of mutterin an growlin around town, I can tell you, and I don t want to make you feel uneasy, but I wouldn t like to be in your place." A KENTUCKY COLONEL. 1 6^ " No man wants to be locked up in a cell," I an swered. " Oh, it ain t so much bein locked up in a cell! " "What is it, then?" " Mob, that s what." I was startled. My scattered senses were coming back. " The sheriff will surely protect a prisoner," said I, endeavoring to be calm. " Wall, when the sheriff finds out that the people want a man, they ginerally git him, but I don t want to make you feel uneasy." " But you have the keys of the jail, haven t you?" The old fellow shook his fat sides. " What do the keys amount to? They can break in that door with a sledge-hammer. I tell you, my friend, it s a pretty serious thing for a stranger to come in and raise a row like this. Hands off, is our idee. If two families have got anything agin each other, let em alone. You ain t no kin to Jim Britsides, I reckon." "No." " Then why did you want to stir this thing up? Lark Moss hadn t done you no harm. Why, there was lots of men right here in this town that half knowed he robbed that bank, but they didn t say nothin , because it wa n t none of their business. It s a mighty good plan, mister, for a man to pay attention to his own affairs. It s a bad idee to jump on a feller, even if you do git money for it. Stfll, as I said before, I don t want to make you feel uneasy." The gloom of the .place must have been oppressive 164 A KENTUCKY COLONEL. even to one accustomed to it, for the jailer attempted, by turning up the light, to drive the dark shadows away; but, after being driven into the corners, they made threatening motions as if they would come out again. " I ve seed rights durin the war that wa n t no worse than this," said the old fellow. " It was limb, skin an jayhawk, as the feller said. But you all peared to be in one nother s way. How many men do you reckon was on a side? " " I don t know. We had about forty, I should think." " Yes; reckon you did, but the Savelys had mo n that. The thing ain t dun with yit, but it better be, for the folks air gittin mighty tired of sich cavortin . I hope nothin will happen to-night; still, I wouldn t like to sign a note payable when sump n do take place. Still, as I lowed while ago, I don t want to make you feel uneasy. If you d ruther, I ll leave the lamp here." " Thank you; it will be a favor." " Oh, I try to help a man all I kin. Thar ain t no use in a feller bein mean jest because he s got the power to. Wall, I ll leave you now." I had not a doubt that he would willingly surrender his keys if a mob should demand them, and that with out the moving of a muscle of his fat jowl he would see me hanged. The coffee had the effect of not only stimulating me physically, but of reviving my sense of danger. To be hanged by a mob! The thought was horrifying, and I strove to put it aside, but, making A KENTUCKY COLONEL. 165 threatening motions like the shadows in the corner, it kept flitting to and fro across my mind. There was no sound outside except the distant hack, hack, hack of some boy that was chopping his evening s wood. I lay on the bunk and tried to sleep, but the dark shadows in the corner kept up their menacing motions, and the dark thought on my mind kept on moving to and fro. " What noise is that! " I exclaimed aloud, springing to my feet. I listened eagerly. The swelling noise of a gathering tumult smote me like a chilling wind touched me as with the cold and dreadful fingers of a corpse. Louder nearer the tumult came, nearer still, and a wild shout arose. The fat jailer ran into the corridor. " They ve come! " he exclaimed. " Merciful God! Don t give them the keys! " " My wife tuck the keys away from me," he cried, " and now they ll kill me! Sue, are you going to let me have em?" " No! " a voice replied. There came a loud knock at the front door. " Hullett! " some one exclaimed. " Hullett! " "Yes." " Open this door! " " I can t. Haven t got the keys." " Open it, or we ll break it down! " "Can t, I tell you." " Break it down, boys." Crash! crash! They were at work with sledge hammers. Some one knocked at the back door. " Hullett," 1 66 A KENTUCKY COLONEL. said a low voice, " open the door. I have a message from the sheriff." Crash! crash! " I am not with the mob. If you don t open the door Major Patterson says he will kill you." The jailer hastened to the back door and opened it. Henry Osbury sprang into the corridor. " Open that cell door! " he exclaimed. " I can t wife s got the keys." " Here, "said a woman, throwing a bunch of keys into the corridor. The jailer seized the keys. " Open the door," Henry cried, " or, by the God above, I will shoot you! " " The mob will kill me if " " Open it, or I will kill you this minute! " A terrific crash. The front door was yielding. The jailer tremblingly unlocked the cell door. The muzzle of a pistol was pressed againt his head. "Run, Burwood!" Henry cried. "Run for your life, and may God bless you! " He clapped his hat on my head. In another moment I was in a garden, and then I plunged into the creek. I scrambled out on the other side, ran across a field, ran into a skirt of woods, and thence into another field. I stopped and listened, but heard nothing save the plaintive lullaby of a negro. Crossing another field and passing through another skirt of woods, I came to a turnpike; and it was not long until I dis covered that it was the road which passed the Osbury farm. I would see the Colonel again; I would rest again, even if for no longer than a few moments, under A KENTUCKY COLONEL. 1 6} a roof which had grown so dear to me. I knew that it was dangerous, yet I followed the turnpike. The clouds, executing their all-day threat, began to pouj out wild dashes of rain, and thunder, not with ths loud crash of a summer outburst, but with the rumbling growl of a November storm, seemed to roll across the fields, deepening with a sudden jolt as it struck the rugged spurs of the ridge. Now the turnpike was an endless stretch of light, upon which streaks of fire were darting, and then the blackness of a coffin s cloth Avould fall upon it. I heard the rapid approach of horses, and, running to the roadside, I lay low down in ;a corner of the fence. The lightning glared, and I saw three men passing me, galloping furiously, and for a moment I fancied that they were a part of the storm. Again I hastened onward, and again I had to hide, as horsemen came dashing from an opposite direction. I stood on a hill, and when the lightning flashed I caught a glimpse of the Colonel s house. I hastened onward. A wailing sound caused me to stop. The lightning showed me that I was in front of Jack Gap s cabin. I heard the wailing sound again, and I stepped into the yard. The door was open, for I saw the dull red eye of a smoldering fire. There came a vivid flash of light. I saw Mrs. Gap kneeling on the floor, with her hands clasped in despair I saw a trundle-bed drawn out from the wall I caught sight of a little face. The pale child was dead. I hastened to the house. The front door was locked, and, instead of knocking, I went round to the gallery. The side door was ajar, and I stepped in just asLuzelle 1 68 A KENTUCKY COLONEL. . was coming down the hall, carrying a light. She was so startled at seeing me that she almost dropped the lamp, and it was some time before either of us spoke. She was deathly pale, and I noticed that there were dark rings under her eyes. " Oh, Mr. Burwood," she said with a gasp. With a desperate effort I mastered myself. " Is the Colonel in the library?" I asked. " Why did you come back here to-night, Mr. Bur- wood?" " I hardly know I hardly know anything yes, I know that Gap s little child is dead." Tears gathered in her eyes. " W 7 hy didn t they let us know it was ill?" she said. " Mrs. Gap is so pecul iar." " Doubtless she had no one to send word by. Gap is in town, drunk. " " I must go to her house to-night," said Luzelle, " but not until you have gone away, Mr. Burwood." " I must see the Colonel." " You must not go into the library." " I must I will." Her eyes flashed, and, stepping aside and waving her hand toward the door, she said: " Then go. You will find Boyd Savely in there." CHAPTER XII. A WILD RIDE. I STEPPED out on the gallery, and was closing the door, when Luzelle bade me wait a moment. She fol lowed me. One second the blaze of the lamp was yel low and dull in the lightning s vivid glare, and then all was dark, for the wind had blown the yellow blaze away. " Mr. Burwood," she said, in a voice of uneven tones, you must leave here at once you must not attempt to see anybody. The Savelys are straining every nerve to find you. Oh, what an awful night! But the con sequences of your staying here," she quickly added, " would be more awful than facing a storm ten times worse than this. I" she seemed to be struggling with herself " I know that you are not a coward. I ought but go now, please. Take Fred s horse and gallop away with the storm. Please go, this minute, Mr. Burwood." " I have no desire to meet Boyd Savely, even if I were armed, and surely I should be a fool to seek him in my present condition, unarmed and almost ex hausted. I will go away. Will you please bring my valise?" She hastened away and soon returned with the valise. I thought that I felt her hand upon my arm, but a flash of light showed me that she was gone. 160 1 70 A KENTUCKY COLONEL. Once more I was on the turnpike, not struggling wearily along, but flying almost with the swiftness of the wind. I had turned toward the ridge and was soon bounding up the steep " dirt road." The storm had increased in violence, and, tearing along the rugged gorges, was deeper and angrier in its roar. A tree snapped, crashed, and fell across the road in front of me. The horse stopped, snorted, and stood still. I was at the Devil s Elbow, and when the vivid light ning came again I saw the spout spring pouring out a stream of fire. The horse picked his way through the waving "lap" of the tree, and then dashed onward. The top of the ridge was soon gained, and now my prog ress was slower, for the road was heavy with mud. I had not given my journey s end a moment s thought; fancy s quick pencil had not even drawn a misty outline of the end of this wild ride, but now I began to awake to the importance of making some sort of draft of my future intentions; and I soon settled upon the advisability of avoiding thickly populated communities, for I was not only fleeing from the wrath of the Savelys, but was a fugitive from so-called justice, an escaped prisoner for whom a reward would undoubtedly be offered. The storm began to abate, its full-grown fury seeming to have forced its dreadful company upon me no farther than the summit of the ridge. As it was not safe to follow the road, I turned aside into the woods and let the horse select his own way. Sometimes the hanging loop of a grape vine almost dragged me from the saddle, and sometimes a saw-briar gave me a merci less raking, but after a while the horse struck a path A KENTUCKY COLONEL. \*j\ and slowly followed it. I soon came to a small clear ing, and, a little farther on, the gleaming of a light re vealed the whereabouts of a human habitation. A feel ing of thankfulness arose within me when a trembling beam came out from that light and fell upon my loneli ness; but a shudder drove the thankfulness away, foi I realized that I was an outcast, hunted by desperate men and by officers of the law. The horse showed a strong inclination to go to the house. My inclination was just as strong, for I was wet and cold, but my judgment held me back. The storm had subsided, having sunk, with a low growl, into the deep gorge just below the spout spring. Occasionally the moon showed her face through flying fragments of clouds. A " rooster " crew, and an old hen made a peculiar noise a noise which a chicken never makes during the day and which always proclaims some petty midnight annoyance. The horse jerked the bridle reins by impatiently thrusting his nose forward, and snorted, it appeared, to attract attention. " Go on, then," I said, " but if it should prove to be a dangerous place, you will have to stretch your legs again. " I reined up within a few feet of the door and hal looed. The door, grating loudly on the boards be neath, was jerked open far enough for a man to thrust his head out. " Who s thar? " a voice demanded. " A wet, cold and worn-out man," I answered. " It don t make no diffunce, then, who you air; Might an come in." 172 A KENTUCKY COLONEL. " May I ask who lives here?" " Yes, jest as cheap as not to, but it mout be savin some little time for me to say that nobody don t live here." " May I ask, then, who you are ?" " As I ain t got no cause to kiver up my name, it would be putty nearly right and proper to ask me that question. I am Major T. Patterson, known all over this and j ining counties as Gentle Tobias." Before he had ceased speaking I was on the ground. Never, to me, had so screaking a voice borne such welcome strains of music. " Why, set fire to my hide !" exclaimed the old fel- , ow, when I made myself known. " If you haven t Ound a place where you can rest, holy Moses wasn t ttothin but a county surveyor. Hold on, let s put your nag in the stable right round thar. Come round this way. A tree blowed down thar to-night, an hanged ef I didn t think I was goin to be squashed right out on my own hearthstone. I won t ask you a word abou\t that affair in town till we go in the house and set down I come away early, for I saw thar was goin to be trouble, and I was afeerd that if I stayed I couldn t keep out of it, so I straddled my old mar* and come on up here. I own a few acres of land here, and put this cabin of peace on it some time ago. I call it the cabin of peace, because I come here whenever I think there mout be danger of me gettin into a scrimmage. And you was out in all that storm? Twinges of rheumatiz have kept me awake, or I mout not have been up to receive you." A KENTUCKY COLONEL. 173 During the delivery of these remarks he had been busily engaged putting feed into a trough. " Yes, built this cabin way up here, but don t come to it as often as I used to, for old age, that years ago I could jest stand on tiptoe and see pokin up his head over the hill, can reach out and tech me now. Let s go in." The room contained but a few articles of rude furni ture. A log fire, in an immense fire-place, had sunk into a comfort-giving smoulder, and a lamp placed high upon a shelf had driven the shadows into a corner. I sat, foolishly musing, wondering if the shadows had followed me from the jail. " Come," said the Major, " tell me about the scrim mage, and then we ll eat a snack and go to bed. What time is it, anyhow?" It was only two o clock. What an age I had passed through since noon! I gave the old man an extended account of the fight drew out the thread of detail, for I saw his old eyes grow young with delight. " Good! " he said, when I had finished; and then he sai m silence, gazing into the fire that seemed to have grown gray with him. His eyes were old again. " My father and brothers were killed," he said. " One night, when I was a child, my father set rockin me and tellin me about his bear-trap, way up the creek *n the hills. Somebody hollered, Helloa!* My father put me down and opened the 1 door. A gun fired out in the dark, and he fell back dead." He aroused himself with a jerk, and his peculiar air of timidity came back to him. 174 A KENTUCKY COLONEL. " What you reckon I ve got to eat? " he asked. " I have no idea." " A possum, or Aaron was a county jedge. Bought him from a nigger and brought him right on up here to nibble at when I felt lonesome. Kivered him with sweet potatoes and baked him. Had just tuck him off to cool when you hollered. Now, my son, we ll put him on the table. You may talk of stuff to eat, turkey and " Some one rapped at the door. " Who s thar?" the Major demanded. " Tag Moss and r Hamp Savely," a voice replied. " What do you want? " " Want to come in." "Sho nuff?" "Yes." " Wall, you better go on to the next house. It ain t as fur away as this one." " Open this door! " " Kain t. An old woman put a snake bone under the sill." " Open this door, I tell you! " "What for?" " We want to come in. We want to see who s inside." " Nobody in here but me, honey." " Who are you talkin to, then? " " A d d fool on the outside." " You know what I mean. Who were you talkin to when we came up ? " "Talkin to myself." A KENTUCKY COLONEL. " Well, you open this door or we ll break it down." " Look here, children, do you know whose door this is ? " " No, and we don t care." " Well, you d better care. This door is the property of Tobias Patterson." " What ! Is that you, Major ? " " Yes, this is the old man, a-sittin* under his own fig-tree." " You say you are alone, Major ? " " No, not alone, boys. I was jest jokin* with you about that. My wife is here with me." " We are sorry to have disturbed you. " " Not a-tall. Good-by. Turkey and patridges, but a possum lays over everything. Why, suh, possum- grease will cure all ailments of the stomach." " Have they gone ? " I asked. "Who?" " Those men." " Oh," (with a chuckle), " they ve been gone some time. Jest draw up your chair. Yes, been gone some time. They know that the Major wouldn t tell a lie. Eat, my son," he added, becoming serious. " They won t Come back, for in the first place they believed what I said, and in the second place they don t want a row with me. Thar used to be fellers, my son, that thought they could run over Tobey, but Tobey s rule was always to make a feller take off his boots before runnin over him. How does the possum hit you ? " " With a soothing paw," I answered. 1 76 A KENTUCKY COL ONEL. " Look here, you air a smart man. Ought to be practicin law right now. I tell you that when a man shakes off the vanity of this world and gets right down and acknowledges that possum is velvet, why, he s got the judgment that ought to carry him right up on the supreme bench. Now, here s a piece that would make a saint s jaws fly apart. " The old man kept up an almost continuous talk dur ing the meal, stopping only to chuckle or to listen for the recurrence of some fancied noise outside. " Now," said he, when the meal was finished, " you pile right on to that bed over there and go to sleep, and it don t make no difference how late you think it is, don t git up till I tell you. Got to sleep if you ever expect to do anything in this world. If I was goin to be hung and had but two hours to live, I d sleep one hour so I d be in good shape to meet my engagement. Don t you be skittish a-tall now, but go right to sleep, for I m goin to set around here and let me tell you, my son, it is said all over Shellcut that a man is never in any particular danger so long as he s Patterson s guest." I soon fell asleep, and when I awoke the sun was shining. The table was set, and a coffee-pot gurgled on the coals. The old Major sat in a large rocking-chair, made of hickory saplings. " Awake, eh?^ Well, you may get up now; still you ve got plenty of time, as it s only twelve o clock by the sun and nearly that time by your watch. Step right to the door, and I ll pour a gourd of water so you can wash. Been thinkin about bringin a wash-Dan A KENTUCKY COLONEL. up hire, but then, in a place of this sort I reckon it s better not to have any of the evidences of pride." He chuckled with a far-away sound, and, dipping water from a large green powder-can, used as a bucket, followed me to the door with the leaky gourd. " Has anybody been here? " I asked, when we had sat down to the table. " Haven t seen a soul. My nearest neighbor lives a right smart ja nt away, and I don t reckon thar s any visitors in the community that s got any particular business with me. I have been thinkin* as to the best place for you to go until this affair blows over, and I have come to the conclusion that if I was in your place I d go way across the hills, cross the Cumberland River and engage board with some family that lives putty much outen the world. Change your name, and that won t be much danger of you bein found out." " A good plan, I have no doubt," I answered. " Yes, I think so, and, to ?ce that you git out of this neighborhood all right, I ll ria* with you till sundown. By ridin* putty much all night, you can reach the river by mornin , and after you cross it, why, I don t think you ll be in any danger. Still, you better take a pistol along with you." We saddled our horses immediately after breakfast, and, without pursuing any defined path, took a westerly course across the hills. The day was beautiful, with a thousand sparkles from the water that dripped from the rocks, and with many a frosted leaf whirling and beaming in the air. The country was extremely wild, and during the afternoon s ride we saw but one house, p A KENTUCKY COL ONEt. a small cabin clinging to the side of a hill. The Majof entertained me with many a quaint story, always re ferring in a modest way to the part which he had borne, When the sun had gone down, we dismounted near a waterfall and ate luncheon in the twilight. " About a quarter of a mile to the right you will find a road," said the Major, when we had arisen to bid each other good-by. " It will take you straight to the river." " You are well acquainted even in this wild place," I answered. " Yes, I ve had to hide out here, but that was long ago, my son, when there were a number of fellers that thought they could run over Tobias. The country is not so wild, however, as you think it is. We haven t seen any houses to-day, for the reason that I ve guided you away from them. I ll stop at Osbury s on my way to town and tell him that you are safe. He s one of the best men that ever lived, and he thinks the world of you, my son. Last t^rne he was in town he didn t talk to me about anything else but you and his book. You must excuse me, but now, you won t be offended if I ask you something, will you ? " " Surely not, Major. " "Honest, now come, my son, honest?" He placed one hand on my shoulder. " You may ask me anything, Major," said I, won dering what he could mean. " W*H, now, it s this: Thar air times, you know, when all sorts of questions have to be asked. The question is, have you got any money ? " KENTUCKY COLONEL. I have enough, my dear friend. " f^ell, now, I ve got a few dollars here that I don t *>v,4, and when I ve got a dollar that I don t owe, my son, I don t know what the deuce to do with it. " " I don t need any money, Major," I replied, seizing his hand. " WelV k then, I won t push it on you. Good-by. Keep the road till you get to the river. If anybody asks who you air, say you air a circuit-rider." I rode all night, and at early morning came to the river. The ferryman had evidently not heard of the Shellcut feud (although such news travels rapidly), for he did not regard me with suspicion. As he was row ing me across, in his dangerous-looking old boat, I asked him several questions with regard to the neigh borhood, and, just before reaching the other side of the stream, he asked who I was. I told him that I was a circuit-rider, whereupon he showed much concern. " I want to ask you suthin ," said he. " Do you b lieve that when a man falls from grace he s as wuss off ez he wuz befo ? " " I hardly know," I answered. " Wall, I m afeerd he is. I professed last fall, but about a month ago I fell in the river an lost my hat an couldn t help but cuss a little, an sence then I cuss mo n I ever did. I b lieve in pra r, an ef you ll pray with me I won t charge you nothin fur settin you over." I was willing to tell a lie, for just at that time lying was one of the features of my profession, but I was not willing to profane the office of circuit-rider by getting down Q& my knees and praying with an old fellow igo * KENTUCKY COLONEL, whose ignorance was not bliss and whose only religion was a superstitious fear. " You can do more for yourself than I can do for you," I answered. " No, I don t b lieve I ken. Together we mout sorter suade the Lawd." " That would be impossible." " Wall, I think so anyhow; an* ef I think so it makes a good deal uv diffunce. The Lawd said suthin about whar a few wuz gathered together in His name, an so on, an* I reckon you better pray with me." " To tell you the truth, I haven t time." He said no more until, after reaching the shore I was preparing to mount. " I ll give your money back ef you will pray with me." " No, I am pressed for time. " I m great mine to snatch you often that horse an waller you," he said, " I don t b lieve you air a preacher ter hurt, nohow." I looked back and saw him drinking from a bottle. Now the country was just rugged enough to be interesting. The road wound its way through a valley, here and there crossing a swollen stream. I passed many rude farm-houses, and sometimes a shouting boy would sail a flat stone at me and then clap his hands in exultation if the accuracy of his calculation chanced to make me dodge. Sometimes I saw women and children digging ginseng root on the side of a wild slope, and when evening came I heard the low hum of \ spinning-wheel. I took this as a homely in^ilatiop A KENTUCKY COLONEL. \ g I to stop, and, riding up to a fence where a woman was milking a cow that looked as though she could have rivaled the speed of a deer, I asked if I could find^ac- commodations for the night. " You ll have to see pap," she aswered. I saw " pap," who said that if I could put up with his way of living, I might stay. I told him I could put up with anything, and, slapping a yellow dog out of the door and bestowing upon me an equally yellow grin, he replied: " Wall, I reckon you ve struck about the right > place. I was anxious to know whether they had heard of the Shellcut fight, and at the supper table I asked several sly questions, soon, to my relief, discovering that they had never heard of Emryville, and that, living in Tennessee, thirty miles from the State line, they had but a vague belief that such a common- wealth as Kentucky was in existence. I was in the saddle again by daylight the next morning. The valley came to an abrupt end, and, following first one road and then another, I crossed many a hill before the afternoon was far advanced. When the shadows of the great trees had begun to grow long; when evening, with a cool approach, began to blow a chilly sigh, I dismounted at a gate in front of a large, double log house. The neighborhood was rude, but not uninviting, and the house, with a dense roll of smoke issuing from its stack chimney, bore a comfortable appearance. I stood, half dreamily look- tag at the scene. The house faced a stream 1 82 A KENTUCKY COLONEL. murmured through a valley far below, and just beyond the gate, approached by a smooth path that crossed a lane, a spout spring flowed. A horse and a mule were biting at each other in a lot near by; yellowhammers, cold enough to be frisky, were twittering and flirting with one another in a cedar tree; a calf bawled, and a cow, standing in the lane, shook her head and blew her breath at me. J;.st as I had opened the gate a woman came out in the broad, open hallway dividing the two sections of the house, looked at me wonder- ingly, scolded a bristling dog into meek obedience, ans 1 called out : " Come on in ; he won t bite you. Ain t nothin but a puppy." She shied somewhat when I stepped up into the hallway, and when I asked her if I could stay over night she replied that she did not know until " pap " came. Just then " pap " came up to the gate with a number of squealing shoats at his heels. " Pap," said the woman, "this man wants to stay all night." " Wall, we ve never turned nobody away yit. How do? " he added, turning to me. " Step right inside." I followed him into a large room. A churn with a dinner plate on top of it stood near the fireplace, and a spinning-wheel and a pair of winding-blades occupied one corner. A rag carpet on the floor and a heavy center-table, upon which several books lay, bespoke an attempt at refinement. The man was not ill- looking ; he wore a closely cropped gray beard, but KENTUCKY COLONEL. \ gj his hair was long. His wife s face was thin and sallow; she had bad teeth, and carried the aspect of overwork. " The boys will put your hoss away when they come," said the man ; "so you may jest set right down here an make yo se f at home." " The boys," added the woman, as she took up a long-stem pipe and thrust it among the burning coals, " air at school. They 1 arn mighty fast, too. We hain t been havin many schools round here, an when Miss Hatton tuck up, w y, we jest all nachully sont to her. Mighty fine teacher, too, an* is a mighty pleasant body to have about. She bo ds with us. They are comin now, pap." The man went out, and I heard him giving instruc tions concerning my horse. The teacher, a tall woman, came into the room, and, without appearing to have seen me, stood near a bed, taking offher gloves. Her voice, when she spoke to the woman, was soft and low, and I naturally expected to see a handsome face, but in the gathering dusk I could not see her features. A chunk fell. The fire blazed up. I saw Ella Mayhew. " Miss Hatton," said the farmer s wife, this is you did not tell me your name! " she added confusedly. " My name is Collins," I answered. " Good evening, Mr. Collins," said " Miss Hatton," bowing. " Don t you think you d better light a lamp, Mrs. Grider? " The teacher did not recognize me, and while con gratulating myself! felt much disposed to thank her for so great a kindness. 184 A KENTUCKY COLONEL. * You are traveling, I suppose, Mr. Collins, "she said, seating herself with well-bred ease. 11 Yes, for my health," I answered. " You will find this pure air quite invigorating. I had to leave the city on account of my health. " I imagined, just then, that she was my equal in the art of lying. " What city are you from? " I asked. "Nashville a charming old place, with such old and refined society. But I had to leave." I did not doubt it. " How long do you expect to be in this part of the country? " she asked, after a short pause. " Until I feel that it would be safe for me to return," I answered, with a grim desire to tell the truth. " What place are you from? " "Louisville." " Ah, a dear old town ! I have spent many a delight ful hour visiting my friends there. Are you pretty well acquainted throughout Kentucky?" "Not very well." " Is there not a county in that State called Shad well ?" "Not that I know." " Let me see; is it Shadwell? Oh, no," she added, "itisShellcuM think." " Yes, I havefteard of Shellcut County." " My father had a very devoted friend ivho lived out there," she continued. "His name let me see was Osburv, I think. A Colonel Osbury, I believe." " I h ^<re heard of him," I rejoined. Quite a distinguished, or, rather, quite a well- A KENTUCKY COL ONEL. 185 known family," she went on. " He had a son, a little boy to whom my father was much attached. I wonder whatever became of him." " He is married, and " " What! again ? I mean, married so young? Mar ried, did you say? " " I think that I saw an announcement of his mar riage." " Perhaps so," she said, with apparent relief. Could it be that she was wont to draw a soothing thought from the belief that the boy still loved her, and that a proof of his fickleness smote her heart? The boys came into the room. They were near enough in size to be twins, and were near enough in similarity of sentimental bent, for a mere glance was sufficient to establish a strong belief that they were both in love with the school-teacher. One of them, till and with the tobacco-field stoop of shoulders, was named President; the other, equally tall if not equally humped, was named Governor. Their father, in ex plaining why he had given them such high official names, said: " Wall, we didn t want to name em after nobody in particular, for a body never knows how folks air goin to turn out, so me an ther mother concluded that, to be on the safe side an at the same time have high-up names in the fam ly, we d jest take the offices stead o the men; fur, you know, the men mout disgrace the offices, but the offices kaint disgrace the men.* " Don t you think it was really a unique idea? " 1 8 6 A KEN TUCK Y COL ONEL. Miss Hatton asked, inclining her head and smiling a* me. "Yes, and, fulfilling its mission, insures protection against possible humiliation." President and Governor grnned just alike while we were discussing their names, and, shortly afterward, blushed just alike when the teacher sat down between them at the supper-table. I could not determine which was the favored one. but naturally supposed that Presi dent, on account of his national importance, would be preferable to Governor, confined, as he was, by state lines. " My young friends are apt students," said Miss Hatton, addressing me. " Yes," said Mrs. Grider, " an* we want to push em right inter a edycation. It s awful fur a body to go through life an not know much." " Wall," drawlingly replied her husband, " 1 arnin ain t ever thing. I have hearn uv many a smart man goin to the penitentiary, while his ignunt neighbor jogged along putty comfortable, eatin his hoe-cake at mawnin an callin up his hogs at night. My daddy couldenter read his name ef he d a seed it painted on the barn, but he lived to be eighty-odd year old, an wa n t a skilyton when he died, nuther. Still, I want the boys to pick up what little they ken. Which way air you travelin , mister? " " I have no special place in view," I answered. " Sorter knockin round loose, I reckon." " Yes; and by the way, I should like to engage board with you." . A KENTUCKY COLONEL. 187 " By all means! " exclaimed Miss Hatton. " This is -. delightful place." President and Governor frowned. They did not look with approval upon the sojourn of a possible rival. " Wall," said Mr. Grider, " it s jest ez we lowed when Miss Hatton wanted to stop with us. Ef you ken put up with pot-luck an a shuck bed, all right." " Now, pap," said his wife, with an air of embar rassment, " whut do you wanter make out ever thing wus n it is fur ? We don t hatter sleep on shucks, an 1 I reckon we ve got ez much to eat ez most folks." After supper the boys went out to get up their night s wood. Mrs. Grider drew out her spinning-wheel, and her husband sat down near the wall, leaned back, and soon began to nod. " The appearance of a stranger always creates more or less of a sensation among these people," Miss Hat- ton remarked, in an undertone, when Mrs. Grider, stretching out her strand of yarn, stepped back to the farther end of the room, " but nothing can keep that man from nodding after supper. He ll doze there awhile, get up just before bed-time, roast some sweet potatoes, eat and go to bed. Being a stranger to you I ought not to make such a remark," she added, with a smile, " but you cannot imagine how pleased I am with the prospect of your remaining here." She waited a moment, until Mrs. Grider had stretched out another strand of yarn, and then con tinued: " Of course, these are kind-hearted people, but they lack that refinement and that intellectual ease 388 A KENTUCKY COLONEL. which makes life in society so charming. Do you paint, Mr. Collins?" " I have no ability in that line," I answered. " Well, do you know that I fancied you must be a painter? Excuse me, but you have the air of an artist. Did you bring any books with you?" " Only two or three volumes that I always carry in my valise." " Oh, I was in hopes that you had brought a whole trunk full but you came horseback, I believe. I would so much like to know what is going on in the literary world in the fascinating world of fiction. But you can t get anything here. The post-office is fifteen miles away." I studied her face closely. Her eyes were large and brown; her smile was winning. She looked younger than she had appeared when Colonel Osbury drove her from his house. President and Governor, after piling logs in the hallway, came in and sat in silent adoration of their divinity. The old man awoke with a sneeze, and, raking out a bed of coals, threw a number of sweet potatoes into the fire. Miss Hatton looked at me and smiled; the boys looked at me and frowned. CHAPTER XIII. THE ATTENTIVE SCHOOL-TEACHER. THE thought of banishment was a constant weight upon me, and the feeling that I was regarded as an outlaw stung me, but my surroundings, wild and grand, were not uncongenial. On the hillsides, where the " pipe-stem " cane bunched out in rich and evergreen foliage, the browsing cows rang their mellow-toned bells, and away down in the creek bottoms, where the water, shivering with the chill of winter s nearness, gurgled around a projecting rock, there arose that soft and rippling music which plays a gentle accompaniment to deep musing, and which makes poetry, not an idle speculation, but a sublime fact. The winter bird shy little creature, to which the farmers have given no name sang a promise of a spring-time far away of a spring when the larger bird would come out, and when the unknown bird, having completed his work of soft encouragement, would go away and be seen no more until a cold and cutting wind warned him that his soothing services were needed again. I wondered sometimes whether Miss Hatton (I must thus refer to her) did not know that she had seen me on a former occasion, but, remembering that I had stood in the background at the time when Fred had A KENTUCKY COLONEL. brought her home as his wife, my fears would find immediate rest. Every day I discovered some new peculiarity in old man Grider. He had been brought up among the negroes of Alabama, and naturally shared all their superstitions. He believed that witches rode horses at night, and one morning when he found his bay mare s mane tangled, he commanded President, who was going to the mill, to take another horse, as the mare must be tired after her night of galloping over the country. I wrote to Colonel Osbury, telling him that my name was J. Collins, and I waited nervously for a reply, but no letter came. I saw but little of Miss Hatton and the boys. They went to the school-house early every morning, except Sunday, and did not return until the chickens were going to roost. As the days grew into weeks; when the splendor of a mountain sunset had grown to be a matter of course; when the waving tree-tops murmured only in voices of retrospection, I became weary and dull. The old joke and the fireside laugh at night lost their uniqueness, and I sank into a state of despondent brooding. In the morning I was chilly, and in the evening, when the sun went down, I would hasten to the house, for the air that brought the music of the cow-bells also brought a shiver. I could see noth ing distinctly nothing but a face that was ever visible, in the sunlight or in the dusk; a face more lovable be cause I could see its defects the face of Luzelle. Sometimes at night I would awake, not from a dream, A KENTUCKY COLONEL. but from a rational conviction that I had, one wild night, felt her hand upon my arm. " Look here," said old man Grider, one evening at supper, " you oughter eat more. Better pay the butcher than the doctor, ez the sayin" goes. I know you ain t doin no work, an you ain t doin" much in the way uv stirrin round, but you oughter eat more. W y, ef I didn t have nothin more ter do than sich men ez you I would be happier than a lark. It s come day, go day, God send Sunday, with you, I reckon. "* " Do try some of these here pear preserves," said Mrs. Grider. " They air ez sweet ez a plum, fur I made them myself. Miss Hatton lows they air mighty fine, an* I reckon you ken eat em." President and Governor had a real as well as a pros pective rival. An old widower named Stark wor shiped Miss Hatton. He was a brown jeans old fel low. I cannot describe him in any other way. He wore a brown jeans " westcut," and, in fact, wore a brown everything. His hat was brown, his boots were brown, and even his complexion was brown. He owned several farms, had a number of excellent horses, owned a mill, and was, in fact, regarded as the wealthiest man in the community. The boys hated him because he loved Miss Hatton, and despised him because he made no attempt to disguise his affection. One evening, after spending a nervous day a day when the noontide was dull, and when the evening came with a dreary drag I walked down the lonely road leading to the distant post-office. Weary and depressed with many an unhealthful fancy, I turned A KENTUCKY COLONEL. aside where the forest was deep and sat down on a log near the road, and had given myself to an almost self- forgetful musing, when the low hum of words reached me. Soon I knew that Miss Hatton and the miller, Stark, were standing beside a tree near me. At first I thought to make known my nearness to them, but then, half lazy and half unconcerned, I leaned back against a sapling, listlessly inclined to let everything work out its own result. This is the conversation that I heard: " I am not looking for a husband." " Oh, I know that, miss. I am the last man to say you are. You have been a-teachin my boys long enough forme to know you by by- " " Reflex," she suggested. " Yes; that s it. You air not only the woman I want, but air the woman that thinks as I do. Now, I ain t nothin but a plain sort uv a man. I ain t got no 1 arnin no book 1 arnin an I m glad uv it. I am a American citizen. I ve got a place fur you, an , ef you want it, w y, it s yourn. I know you air a young critter that don t know much about the world, but ef you want me you ken have me, that s all." After a few moments of silence, they walked on, going down deeper into the valley. I went to the house and lay on the lounge in the sitting-room, for I felt a real illness creeping upon me. I dozed off into a troubled sleep, and was awakened by voices in the room. A new quilt, still on the frames, was stretched along the lounge, and I was thus shielded from the view of any one who might enter the apartment. President was talking to the teacher. - A KENTUCKY COLONEL. 193 " Miss Hatton," were the words I heard, " I wanter say suthin befo anybody else comes. I love you. Other folks mout say more, but mout not mean so much. I love you, an an want you - " " What do you mean? " " I mean that I love you." " Oh, sit down over there. Do you think I am a child? " "No; but " " Oh, well, sit down there. You don t know what you are talking about." " Yes, I do. Yes, I do know. Ef that old fool -" " You don t know \yhat you mean, D^ont try to put your arms round me. What do you mean?" " Been making love to you an -" " Nobody has been making love to me," "Old Stark has." " He has not, you foolish boy." " Wall, then, that feller Collins has." " Oh, you ought to be ashamed of yourself. He has not." " Wall, then, Governor has." " Oh, you shameless boy, he has not. Go on away, now. Leave me alone.- I want to think. I must study." " What you got ter think about?" " About your lessons." " Wall, my lessons air all right. I won t go till you tell me that you love me." " I think a great deal of you." " That ain t the p int. Do you love me?" 194 A KENTUCKY COLONEL. " Go on, President take your arms away what do you mean?" " Do you love me?" "Why, of course I do." " How much?" "Oh, I don t know." "Tell me." "Well, very much." " More than anybody in the world?" " Yes. Now, go on and leave me alone." A deep silence followed. " Shall I speak and make my presence known?" I mused. "Shall I get up?" Just then Governor stalked into the room. " Whar s pap?" he asked. " I don t know," the teacher answered. " Where s Pres?" "I don t know." " Did he feed the hogs? " "I don t know." " Where s mother? " " Milking, I suppose." "You by yourself?" " I suppose so." " Wasn t Pres here just now? " "No." "Shonuff?" "No, I tell you." " I thought he was. Why didn t you light the lamp?" " Because I didn t want to." " Which way did Pres go? " A KENTUCKY COLONEL. 195 * I don t know anything about him, I tell you." "Must I sit down?" " If you want to, yes." "All right, I will." A few moments of silence followed. A chunk fell the fire blazed up. I heard the snapping of the tongs that threw the chunk behind the fire. " How long air you goin to stay here? " " I don t know, Governor. How long do you think I ought to stay? " " Till I say go. You may not think I m nothin but a boy, but I m a man. I don t know what anybody else has said, but I want you to be my wife, do you hear?" " Governor, what do you mean?" " Here, now, I don t want any nonsense. What do you say? " "Say to what?" " To what I said. Hurry up, fur somebody mout come." " Oh, I never did see such a boy! " " An you mout never see sich another one. Hurry up, an let me know which way the cat jumps. " " You ought to be ashamed of yourself for using such ridiculous expressions." " I ain t talkin about bein ashamed. I m askin you ter be my wife, me. I never did think nothin about marryin till I saw you. These wimen folks round here ain t my style. I like ter see er woman that s a high-stepper, jest like er fine hoss, an I wanter say that you air about the highest stepper I ever seed. COLONEL. But that ain t got nothin ter do with the question. What do you say? " " Oh, go on, now, please. I didn t come into this neighborhood to be married. I came to teach school. " " An I didn t come inter this world on purpose ter git married, nuther, but now that I m here an don t find no law ag in marryin , w y, I m dad blame it, here comes pap. We mout er had ever thing settled by this time. Never mind, my lady, I m goin ter ax Pres ef he s made love ter you, an* ef he has, w y, the early mornin wind is goin ter blow some wool around the neighborhood." The next morning I was too ill to get out of bed, and as the day advanced a rnind-blighting fever set tled upon me. Then there followed dreams of extreme anxiety and visions of trouble. Sometimes I saw the sun shining in at the window, and then, with the lapse of a mere wink of time, everything was shadowy under the lamp-light s subdued glow. Sometimes the winter bird twittered in a tree near the window, and then a storm, with its deep roar, came down from the hills and made the old house tremble. Sometimes I thought I could see that some one was near my bed, and then, a moment later, I would feel that I had been alone for days at a time. One morning I awoke to a new sense of my surroundings, and my first rational thought was that I must have been asleep for a long time, for the odd ends and the tangled beginnings of many a wild dream came up, demanding, I fancied, identification and assortment. Miss Hatton was in the room. I - A KENTUCKY COLONEL. 197 spoke to her. She turned from a looking-glass that stood on a home-made table. " You must be better this morning," she said. " I am. What day is it?" " Sunday," she answered. " Have I been in bed ever since Friday?" " You have been unconscious for three weeks. You d better not talk very much. The doctor " " Has a doctor been to see me?" " Yes, but he didn t know anything. Deliver me from an old-time country doctor. I was going to say that he gave you up. You appeared to improve after his visits ceased. But you must not talk any now. The folks have all gone to church. The boys wanted to stay with you, but I wouldn t let them. How do you feel?" " I feel well enough, but I am very weak." " Oh, how you did rave!" A sudden fear seized me. In my delirium I must have revealed my identity. " What did I say?" " You seemed to be in a fight and talked about a girl named Lucy. Who is she?" " My sister." " No. Men don t rave over their sisters. Men don t quote poetry to their sisters don t tell them that they are dying of love for them. Who is Lucy?" " I don t know. " " I thought you said she was your sister?" " I have a sister named Lucy." I was not too weak to tell a lie. She shook her head at me. Her hair 19-8 A KENTUCKY COLONEL. fell about her shoulders, and so luxuriant was it that, weak and susceptible to odd impressions, I thought that she must be a consumptive. " Do you want anything to eat?" she asked. "No." " Let me boil an egg for you. " " I can t eat anything." " Let me read to you, then. Here is a newspaper with a long account of a desperate affair in Kentucky. Shall I read it?" " I don t care to hear it." " But if I were to read a little of it you d crave the rest. It s very thrilling; all about an awful feud; how a young man named Burwood " " I don t care to hear it." " Let me read you a description of the hero. It won t take but a minute." She took up a paper and read as follows: He looked more like a dreamer than a fighter, and it is said that he did not want to fight until he was shoved into it. Some say that he is a Pinkerton de tective; others declare that his connection with the discovery of the bank robber was wholly accidental. Regardless of prospective family ties, the Osburys stand up for him; probably they were won by his engaging appearance. He is tall, with dark, curling hair, brown eyes, classic features, inclined to muse rather than to talk, and is " 11 Please don t read any more," I pleaded. " Isn t it interesting?" "Not to me." A KENTUCKY COLONEL. I 99 " Well, then, I won t read it. I will put it aside until you are stronger," " Put it aside permanently." " Why do you object to it so seriously?" " I don t object to it, but simply don t care to hear it." " Shall I tear up the paper? " If you please." " I will." She tore the paper and threw it into q. box. A setting hen uttered a complaint. " These people have setting hens all over the house," she said. " I meet them on the stairway going to their nests and find them under the table at meal-time." " How are you getting along with your school? " I asked. " We have had no school for some time. In fact, seeing that Mrs. Grider hadn t time to take care of you, I suspended the school shortly after you were taken ill." I thanked her; but deep within myself I felt a strong indignation, for I believed that she, thinking that I was in an easy condition financially, was endeavoring to win me. Several days later, it may have been a week, I awoke to find Miss Hatton in the room. She had been in constant attendance, but on this occasion I saw her better than I had ever seen her before, for I noticed a peculiar flush on her cheeks and a deep- burning light in her eyes. After smoothing my pillow, she sat down on a trunk near the window. Sunlight streamed into the room, and for the first time (how 2OO A KENTUCKY COLONEL. slow we sometimes are to form a correct estimate of appearances) I noticed that she was a decided blonde. Could it be true that I was a mere muser and that con victions and conclusions came slowly to me, like the thoughts that remind us of dreams of long ago? 11 You are very much better to-day," she said. " Yes, I feel stronger." " The boys have gone to the mill. They went away quarreling." I knew why, but I said nothing. She continued: " Mr. Grider and his wife have gone to visit a neigh bor. The doctor came again after he learned that you were likely to recover. He had the kindness to tell me that his advice, so. strictly followed, had brought you out all right. His natural inclination to be a fool, strange to say, has not hurt his propensity for being a liar. Can I do anything for you? " " Nothing," I answered. She sat in silence for some time. The sunlight which fell upon her face showed no defects. She was handsome, and she influenced me, yet I knew her. Ah, handsome woman, even though men know your waywardness, you are a power. Your smile makes a dupe of us. We may not love you, but we feel your strength. But I laughed at this woman, for when we recognize a strength we have discovered a weakness. " What book is that you have? " I asked. " It s nothing but a woman s nonsense in paper cov ers. Shall I read to you?" "No; I couldn t understand it." A KENTUCKY COLONEL. 2OI " I have Hawthorne. Shall I read some of his * Twice Told Tales ? " " Yes. Read The Gentle Boy." When she had finished she put the book aside and looked inquiringly at me. I said nothing. " It is a pity he did not do more work of that sort," she said. " How he could turn quiet gentleness to a tumult of strength. " She sat in silence, with a musing gaze fixed upon the sunbeams that fell through the window. I wondered if her heart did not smite her, knowing that she was a woman of misdeeds; and then I said to myself, speak ing to myself: " Who are you, that you may censure others? Has your life been free from blame? Have you not given encouragement to such women?" " What sort?" I asked, after a silence, during which I had been contemplating her. "Oh, of the sort that brings people closer to life s obligations to true gentleness. And yet, this story does not really teach us to be moral. It tells us of religious intolerance, that s all. It seems that every thing tends toward the betterment of man. What I want is a careful consideration of women. But what is the use in talking to you? I suppose you are with the rest of the men. You think that an evil- minded man can be reformed, but that a woman who has gone astray is eternally damned." "I don t know that I think so," I answered. "I should think that repentance is held out regardless of sex." " Oh, the Bible proclaims that idea, but man 2O2 A KENTUCKY COLONEL. places a different construction upon it. I do not agree with man. I think that a woman ought to have a chance to reclaim herself." " Man gives her every chance," I replied. " He not only gives her a chance, but encourages her. Women shut the door in her face." " Yes, that is true. But what is the use of discussing such things? The hundreds of books and the thou sands of lectures devoted to this subject have failed to bring about a desired result." I heard footsteps on the stairway. Old man Stark stalked into the room. " Mr. Stark, you ought not to come in here," said Miss Hatton, frowning in disapproval of the miller s presence. " Wall, I didn t know what else terdo," he answered, lifting the skirt of his brown jeans coat and seating himself on the edge of a box. He sat there for a moment, and then got up, with a troubled expression of countenance. " Thar s a blamed old settin* hen in here," he said, rubbing himself. " A hen that ain t got no better sense than ter set this time o year oughter be tuck up an shuck. Oh, you neenter laugh, Miss Hatton, fur she didn t hurt me much. Wall, how s ever thing?" he added, seating himself on the foot of my bed. " All right, so far as I know," the teacher answered. " Don t know when you ll take up school agin, I reckon?" " Not exactly. " " My boys air might ly down in the mouth. They A KENTUCKY COLONEL. 2 03 low that vidults ain t tasted good sence you quit teachin . They think a power uv you, miss." " I am glad to know that I have their good will." " Wall, you ve got it sho s er gun s dangus. You ought never ter leave this here neighborhood." " Why?" " Wall, becaze we think so much uv you up here. Never will strike sich another lot uv people ez long ez you live. We air uv the true feather, us. Don t you feel like takin uv a walk." "No." " Do you good." "I have to give Mr. Collins his medicine after awhile." " Give it to him now. Nothin but a sort uv tea fixed up by the home-folks, nohow. A gallon uv it won t do him no good, nur no harm nuther, I reckon. By the way, Mr. Collins, I wuz at the post-office yistidy evenin an tuck out this letter fur you." He handed me a letter bearing the Emryville post mark. CHAPTER XIV. A LONGED-FOR LETTER. THE letter was from Henry Osbury. It was dated at the old farm, and so stirring were my emotions upon reading the date line, that I had to put the sheet of paper aside. Miss Hatton, accommodating even in her thoughtfulness, conducted Stark into another room, and, quieted upon being left alone, I read as follows: " MY DEAR BOY: I brought your letter out home yesterday evening, and to-day, having been unanimously elected secretary of the family, I enter upon the discharge of a pleasant duty. Your letter must have been an aimless wanderer before reaching us must have been half drowned with somereckless boy who rides the mail; and, judging from the condition of its overcoat, I do not think that it escaped a railway accident. Indeed, I am tempted to believe that it is a straggling survivor of a stage-coach robbery. It is unnecessary for me to say that we were delighted to hear from you, for you must know that you have endeared yourself to us all. I have never known my father to be so impressed with any one, and mother, I am constantly reminded, has taken you into the beautiful sanctuary of a noble affection. What an unselfish life she has lived; how devoted she has ever been to the giving of comfort to other people. Even Uncle Buck, who thinks that the world, once a great machine, is now a worthless toy, holds you up in high esteem ; declares that you are the only young man who ever understood him, and that your opinion is worth more than the judgment of a latter-day statesman. Luzelle has your letter now, reading it, and I think that she must have read it half a dozen times. She finds delight in your description of the family of your landlord. " Now, I shall proceed to give you a piece of news: Three days after tie fight in Emryville(I suppose you remember the occasion) Jim Britsides collected his scattered forces and attacked the Savelys at a place known as the old Sterling camp-ground. Both parties were drunk, and, thus blinded to that discretion which we are told is the better part of valor, the A KENTUCKY COLONEL. 205 encounter was simply a butchery. Very few of the combatants escaped. The fight was resumed in Emryville the next morning, but it soon came to an end, for Jim Britsides and Boyd Savely, except a few unimportant ones, were the only survivors. By this time officers interfered, but too late, for Savely shot Britsides through the heart and then succeeded in escaping. So, of the two families, Boyd is the only important member left. It was the most desperate feud-war known (as the newspapers say) to the history of this county. " Father and I have succeeded in convincing the authorities that you are innocent of the charge of stirring up the strife; that you acted in self-de fense; and we are all assured that you may, without molestation, resume your residence in Shellcut County. Our people, though furious when in a storm, have, when in a calm, the gentleness of children; and the very men who would have hanged you that awful night would now speak to you in playful terms of the narrowness of your escape. They recognize, as Bacon did, a sort of wild justice in revenge, and to many of them vengeance, instead of cleanliness, should stand next to godliness, for have they not been taught that the Worshipful Master of all creation is Himself the God of vengeance? The violent man is also a forgiving man; the easily-man aged hypocrite bears malice. " Father wrote an article for our county paper, and afterward delivered an address to a large congregation of our citizens. He spoke of the gen tleness of your nature, your love of the woods and your admiration of the beautiful. This received a quiet sanction, but when he shrewdly declared that you were a supreme judge of a fine horse, our fellow-citizens broke out in rapturous applause. That did the work, for the coroner s jury exoner ated you. " There is a bitter feeling against Boyd Savely, for it has been shown that he was the instigator of the trouble; and the relatives of a man who was accidentally shot and killed declare that Boyd shall not return to Shellcut. I could never wholly understand why father thought so much of Boyd, for neither one can have a link that would chain the other to him. I know that father and the elder Savely were devoted friends, but this should not have so strongly influenced father toward the son; but, after all, I don t know but this trait in father is more to be admired than to be condemned. How* ever, I do not possess it. I cannot like a sour apple simply because it grew upon a shapely tree that has afforded me a pleasant shade. " Now, my dear boy, return at once. Uncle Buck (whose flute has been repaired) will welcome you with tremulous sounds, and Luzelle will touch the keys with soft-feeling fingers. Uncle Buck discharged Jack Gap yes terday, and upon reporting this exercise of his authority, he exclaimed 2O6 A KENTUCKY COLONEL. Remington, I won t stay here and work like a nigger and be abused. Gap has not taken his departure. I enclose a letter from Fred. " Your friend, " HENRY OSBURY." The letter" from Fred, enclosed in a small pink en velope, was addressed to me, and was written on the day of the fight in Emryville. " MY DEAR MR. BURWOOD: I have something to tell you and I don t want you to say a word ; not a single word about it. Here, in San Ber nardino, there is the prettiest girl I ever saw. Her name is Mollie Fry, and you bet in looks she can just knock Ella Mayhew silly. I am in love with her, but I haven t told her yet. I thought I loved before, but I didn t. Why, when I married I didn t know what love was. Strange that a feller will be so mistaken. This girl s hair is as black as a crow, and she s got the puttiest little hands you ever did see. I can t eat, I love her so. Don t you say a wo rd about it. If she ll have me I ll marry her, but I ll write home first. She s the smartest creature I ever saw, and sing she sings like an angel. I believe she loves me, but I ain t sure, but she smiles at me. That s a pretty good sign, ain t it? I ll write again after awhile and let you know how things are rocking along. "Yours, FRED OSBURY." I had put the letters into the large envelope and had given myself to a state of musing now anxious, now delighted, and now thrilled when Miss Hatton entered the room. " Well, I have got rid of that old bore," she said, seating herself near the window. " He is quite enough to turn the pleasant broth of a saint into the disagree able vinegar of a cynic. Did your letter bring good news?" " Yes, very ; and I shall leave this place as soon as I am able to ride." " You have permission, then, to return?" A peculiar smile lighted up her face. " If you have permission to A KENTUCKY COLONEL. 207 return," she added, " you no longer have need of an assumed name. Why do you stare so? There is no need of surprise, and surely no necessity for excitement. I recognized you the moment I set my eyes on you. Why, were you so foolish as to think that you could peep under my mask, but that yours was so well held in place that it shut out all possible light of recognition? This is an out-of-the-way place, but a Nashville paper that I happened to receive the very day you arrived gave an account of the fight in Emryville. The out break of a Kentucky feud, you know, is pretty well telegraphed, and Nashville is only sixty miles away. But don t be worried. Your kindness (or perhaps dis cretion) in saying nothing to these people about me awoke my gratitude." I knew not what to say; knew not what to think, except that I had been an egotistic fool. I had been disposed to frown upon her attentions, to look with suspicion upon her kindness, believing that she was trying to make an impression upon me. After a few moments of silence, during which she sat complacently smiling, I made a confession, believing that some sort of return ought to be made. " Oh," she said, with a laugh, " I don t blame ycu. Whom is your letter from?" " Henry Osbury." " I was not acquainted with him. He was not at his father s house to welcome me when Freddie took me home." A serious expression settled upon her face, " I very much regret that affair, " she said. " Of course, it was greatly my fault, but I was not wholly to blame. 208 A KENTUCKY COLONEL. The boy was the most ardent, the most impetuou* lover I had ever known; and where, pray tell me, is the woman who can help admiring a completely swallowed-up lover, a lover wild, almost insane with his passion? Many women are better than other women, but they are all women. I tried to put him off, but could not or rather did not, after I learned of the prominence of his family. I suggested, after we became engaged, that it would be better to tell his people, but he objected violently swore that they would oppose the marriage, but that they would quietly submit after the ceremony had been performed. From what I learned of them I thought that it would be better for me to challenge their respect by a show of extreme dignity; but I made a mistake, I suppose. But, even had I been welcomed into the house, I don t believe that I could have lived there very long. When we had finally taken up quarters at a hotel, I knew that I should become miserable, and in consequence be a drag upon him, so I went away. I was somewhat surprised, when I went home with Fred, to find old Buck Hineman. The boy had, in his few words regarding the family, spoken of his Uncle Buck, but as the old fellow s surname had not been men tioned, I was hardly prepared to meet him. Am 1 boring you? " "No; far from it," I answered. "Tell me your history." " My history is very short no more of a history than the life of many a woman you have met. I was born in a Pennsylvania village, and extreme poverty was A KENTUCKY COLONEL. 2O9 the first thing I knew. My father was a drunkard, and my mother, a gentle creature, died when I was quite young. One night, when I was about eight years old, my father was brought home, dead. After this I went to live with a neighbor, doing drudgery for my board. No attempt was made to teach me anything; no care whatever was taken of me. I wore cast-off clothes, and I was sometimes ragged. At about the age of ten I ran away and went to Philadelphia. I wandered about the streets, and slept in a deserted house. I was taken up by the police, having been pointed out as a beggar, and was sent to a charity school. I learned with re vengeful eagerness. But what is the use of dwelling on such details? At the age of eighteen I began to lecture, in a small way, on woman s rights. I was earnest, but women laughed at me. Once, in a village, after lecturing to a small audience, a man came up and said that he wanted to shake hands with me. His face^ was pleasant and his voice was soft. During a conversation which followed, he told me that he shared my views that women had ever been oppressed, and that the aim of his life was to help them. He advised me to take up a school in the neighborhood. I did so. Three months later we were married. Three months after that the brute struck me. I ran away and wen* to New York. Shortly afterward, a newspaper para graph brought me the not unpleasant information that a team of horses had run away with my husband and had killed him. I did not return to the lecture-field I know you must be bored." " No, indeed I am not!" I exclaimed. 14 210 A KENTUCKY COLONEL. " I did not return to the lecture-field," she continued, " but, thinking that I possessed some talent for writing, decided to try my hand at literature. I wrote a moral story and took it to a magazine. I was treated with that peculiar sort of politeness which is far more de pressing than an insult, for in the hot resentment of an insult we find a kind of satisfaction. Well, I tried pub lication after publication, triednewspapers everything that used printer s ink. Failure. Then I tried to get on a paper as a reporter. I succeeded, but the pay was small. Shortly afterward I married a preacher. He had a flock in the country and had officiated at a suburban wedding which I had reported. He had been flattered by women until he thought that he was a god, I soon discovered that he was a fool. He thought that my whole life should be melted and poured into his. I was willing to humor him in many ways, but I would not become his slave. This aroused his holy anger. Well, we fought. I was much to blame, I know, but was willing to aknowledge my faults. He had none. I left him, and he secured a divorce. I had a great deal of experience after this, and changed my name from time to time. Once, while teaching in Indiana, I met Uncle Buck. The old fellow gave me to understand that he was wealthy, and, being some what on the lookout for a rich man, I consented to marry him, but just before the ceremony was to take place I was arrested on a charge of stealing a horse. The charge was not true. One night, about two weeks before I met Uncle Buck, I wanted to reach a railway station in tk&e to catch a train. I saw a horse hitched A KENTUCKY COLONEL. 211 to a fence, and as he didn t appear to be in demand, I mounted him, rode four miles and turned him loose. It seems that he wandered off, somewhere. At least he was not found until after I had been arrested. Of course, nothing was done with me. I must be boring you, for I am tired myself. Did you tell the Osburys that I was here?" " No; for I was afraid that the merest reminder of you would cause Mrs. Osbury a troubled thought." " You are considerate," she replied, slightly bowing. " Where is Fred ? " she asked after a moment s pause. " In California. I have, also, a letter from him." " Let me see it, please." "No." " Why ? " " Because I am considerate." " Ah ! Consideration with you is a carefully watered plant, but why should it suggest the discretion of not showing me the letter ? " " Because the letter contains an uncomplimentary mention of you. " " Bah ! What do I care for that ? Let me see it! " I held out the letter; she took it, returned to her seat, and, after reading it, wadded it up, threw it upon the bed, and sat for a time with her elbow resting on the window-sill and her chin resting on her hand. " Pretty little hands ! " she said, almost contemptu ously. " Hair black as a crow; smart ! I warrant you she is a chattering idiot. " I could not help laughing, so absurd did her indigna tion appear. 212 A KENTUCKY COLONEL. " Why should you care how many girls win his love? He is nothing to you." Of course not! " she pettishly replied; " but I despise to see a man so fickle. Talk about the fickle ness of woman, when a man is as turnable as a weather cock. The ablest man in the world is caught by a pretty face. Would he marry an ugly woman? No, he wouldn t. But a handsome woman worships ability. To her, the poet, though he may be hump-shouldered, knock-kneed and ape-faced, is handsome." " Did you marry Fred on account of his ability ?" " I am not talking about myself now. I am talking of men and women in general. " "You remember parts of your former lectures," I remarked. She sprang to her feet with a laugh, and, clasping her hands back of her gold-covered head, walked up and down the room. When she sat down again I could see no traces of the annoyance which she had shown. " How long do you expect to remain here? " I asked. " Not long, for I am getting tired of an honest quietude that censures my deception." " You are a bright woman, Miss Hatton." " Don t you think that you should pour a little more water on your tender plant of consideration? " she asked, smiling; but before I could reply, she exclaimed: " Oh, I have a book you must read. While you were raving with fever I read, in a weekly newspaper, a half- column in praise of a new novel entitled, On the Moss Side of the Tree. Shortly afterward I had an oppor tunity of sending to Nashville for it. * A KENTUCKY COLONEL. 2I 3 "Who wrote it?" I asked. " A writer I never heard of before, except as a sort of poet. His name is Elvis Wiggles worth." " I remember his poetry, and some of it has taken a strong hold upon me. Where is the book? " " Down-stairs, but you are hardly well enough to read it now. If you wish, I will read it to you. There is nothing in it that cannot be read out, for it was written by a man. Man books, you know, are aK pure," she continued, smiling archly. "That is, so far as this country is concerned. . We only blush when we read books written by young ladies who make shrewd guesses. I must go down-stairs now, for it is about time the folks were returning." At morning, when the winter s sunlight came in at my window, I arose and extended a welcome; and, at evening, when, on the other side of the house, the sun-rays wavered and bade me good-by for a day, I nodded a reluctant farewell. Day after day I saw the sun arise, and day after day I saw it go down behind the sassafras-girted ridge. The water of the creek, now overspread with the dark mantle of winter s chill, gurgled, I fancied, in cheerless rhapsody, and the snowbird, upon a limb that wavered a threatened dip into the stream, uttered a cold but encouraging song. The field lark, whose feathers were ruffled by the barn- boy s sudden shout, flew away, and, alighting upon the fence-post, proclaimed a new and frost-crested morn ing. The old yellowhammer that had roosted under the wagon-shed, chid the redbird that presumed to come into the barn; and the frisky " sapsucker" 214 A KENTUCKY COL ONEL. alighted on the top of a dead tree and declared, in a loud and ringing song, his right to dictate the vocal cast of all the birds that flew unto his rhythmic and music-loving territory. The frogs that sat about a pool away up on the hill cried with a sort of re-re-re cadence when the sun warmed their backs, and the wild duck uttered a quack, quack, in the woods where the hunters had camped. My days of recovery were very slow. Miss Hatton had read to me the life-like novel written by Elvis Wigglesworth, and I had expressed my admiration of it, yet I thought that it lacked a certain something, and I had told her so; but still she seemed to think that it had no flaws. Old man Grider and his wife were ever ready to serve me, and even the boys, although they had a lingering suspicion that I was a rival, were ever anxious con cerning my condition. The days passed with tedious slowness, for I was longing for that old home in Kentucky. I felt (as all impatient convalescents must feel) that I grew weaker instead of stronger, yet I could not help knowing that the days which brought change in the weather brought strength to me. The teacher took up her school again, at which I was pleased, but yet I was selfishly sorry that she did not devote her whole time to me. She would come into my room at morning and at evening, and, although I knew that she was an enemy of society, yet her presence always brought agreeableness and her care always produced comfort. A KENTUCKY COLONEL, 2 1 5 Day after day my strength returned, and one morn ing, when I went down into the dining-room, I found the family assembled to welcome me. " When are you going away ? " Miss Hatton asked. " I shall be able to go within three days from now," I answered, adding a reminder that she had spoken of her early departure. " Yes, I am going soon," she said, in an undertone, " and after that we shall never see each other again; but," she quietly added, " what difference does that make ? " I did not reply. She sat gazing up at the hillside where the cows were ringing their mellow-toned bells. CHAPTER XV. THE OLD KENTUCKY HOME. ONE morning while the sun, with seemingly a ful beginning of his day s journey, was shooting a shower of flashing arrows from a crag-crowned hill-top, I mounted Fred s horse and rode away. Strong were my emotions as I turned toward Kentucky, and, as I rode along over a hill, down a slope where blue-flint spear-heads made by ancient Indians were seen in the gullies, I thought, with a softening pleasure, of the kindness which the Griders had shown me and of the sisterly attention bestowed by the school teacher. Her history, told at a tea-party, would give many an old gossip a feeling of delightful horrors, yet her sympathy was pure. I had thanked her, but the hollow sound of my words had impressed me with a feeling of self-convicted ingratitude; and, writing her a note, wrapping it about my watch and placing both in a little box, I had left the package with old man Grider, requesting that he give it to her on the morning after my departure. I followed, as nearly as possible, the roads which I had pursued upon coming into the country, and, with out incident, reached, on the second day, the ferry where the peculiar old fellow had asked me to pray with him. His countenance was still swathed in an expression of j>/>tion, but, as we were crossing, a - A KENTUCKY COLONEL. 217 half-mischievous light of recognition which shone in his eyes revealed an inclination toward the world, instead of a hope for a growth in grace. " Wall, parson," said he, " have you got through with yo app intments ? " "Yes." " You muster had a mighty pullin an haulin eon- gergation somewhar. " " Why so ? " " Becaze you look like you mouter been dipped in b ilin water a couple uv times." " I am not wholly unacquainted with hot water, 1 " No, reckon not, and nuther am I. Have had a mighty tough time sence you was along here - have had a powerful fight." " Whom did you fight? " ^ A feller knowed mighty well in this here neighbor hood as ole Satan." " Did you whip him? " " Wall, kain t say that I did. Choked him putty well one time, got him down twixt two logs an thought I had him foul, but he riz with me and used me power ful rough. I tried agin the next day, but he jumped straddle uv me, hooked his fingers in the corners of my mouth, socked his spurs in my flanks an rid me all over the curmunity." " You have decided, I suppose, not to fight him again? " " Wall, I ain t lookin for him. Ef he comes my way an tromps on me I ll hit him, but I ain t goin out on 2 1 8 A KENTUCKY COLONEL. narry nuther still hunt atter him. Have you drawed many folks inter the church sense you went by here? " " Not many." " Don t reckon they are ripe enough ter be shuck often the trees down whar you wasT* "Hardly." " Tell you what you mout do. You mout pray with me a little jest fur luck." " No, I m still in a hurry. " " You won t git another chance ter pray with as lively a man as I am." " I suppose not." " Ain t you got sump n in that kyarpet-bag? " "Yes, clothing." " I mean ain t you got a bottle in thar? " "No." " Look an see." " I know I haven t." " Wall" (with a disappointed change of countenance), " here we air. I oughter charge you double price." "Why so?" " Becaze you ain t got no fun in you. Bet ef a man was ter hit you a jolt you d rattle like shucks. Wall, good-by. Hope your next congergation won t pull an haul you so much." After passing the place where Major Patterson and I had separated, I lost my way, as I could not follow the almost trackless trail over which he had conducted me. Sometimes I found a path, but it would never lead to brighter prospects of finding a direct road. While going through a ravine I overtook a boy riding A KENTUCKY COLONEL. 2 1 9 a blind horse. The youngster, astride a bag of corn, wa.3 going to mill. I was much pleased even with so meager a promise of companionship, but I soon had cause to regret our acquaintance, for the boy was chewing a piece of India-rubber, and the almost con stant screaking thus produced made me so nervous that I was fearful lest I might be afflicted with a permanent case of the jerks. "Why do you chew that horrible stuff?" I asked. (Screak, screak.) " Hah?" " I asked why do you want to chew that infernal stuff?" (Screak, screak.) " Cause it s good, I reckon." " It will kill you." " Wall" (screak, screak), " kain t he p it." " Don t you know that it makes a very disagreeable noise? " Wall " (screak), " pap lows so, but I thought he mout be jokin . You" (screak, screak, screak) " don t like to hear it, do you? " "No; I don t." "Wall, then" (screak, screak), "as you air on better stock than I am, you mout ride on." " Do you know of a load that leads into Shellcut County? " " No, I don t b lieve I do," he replied, with so vig orous a production of screaks that I spurred my horse into a gallop that soon brought relief. I stopped at a small log house and inquired of a woman concerning the direction I should follow, but she could tell me 220 A KENTUCKY COLONEL. nothing, except to keep right on. Night came, and I began to look for a place where I could stay until morning. I came to a road, and, believing that it might lead to accommodations for the night, I followed it, now over a tract of timber land, and now down a steep descent. *A noise attracted my attention. I looked about me. Half familiar features, timber shapes and rocks just discernible through the darkness, began to appear. My heart leaped with a breath- catching thrill, for the noise which I heard was the Burgle of the spout spring at the " Devil s Elbow." Now the road was plain, and the horse, recognizing iiis nearness to home, bounded forward. I made no effort to restrain him, for swift-winged eagerness al ready bore my fancy into the old library. I could see the Colonel in his hearty reception of me, I could hear Mrs. Osbury s motherly words, and I could see Luzelle, -though I could not make out her degree of welcome. Now I was galloping along the turnpike. Ah, and yonder a light, and here the big gate! I put the horse into the stable and hastened to the house. The side-door was unlocked, and, with swell ing heart, I entered and tapped on the library door. " Come in! " the Colonel s voice exclaimed. I entered. The old man sprang up from a rocking- chair and threw his arms about me; and I don t know but that I kissed Mrs. Osbury, so great was my excite ment. " My gracious, Phil," said the Colonel, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand, " you must have had a terrible time but don t pay any attention to what A KENTUCKY COLONEL. 221 anybody says until you sit right down here and rest yourself. Don t you think a small toddy would help you?" he added, when he had gently pushed me into an easy chair. "No, I don t need it." " I ll make you one in a minute." " Remington," said Mrs. Osbury, " don t insist on his taking it if he doesn t want it. Whisky is not a remedy for everything." " Well, Mary, well all right, we won t talk about it. Put out your feet there, Phil; I know they are cold." " I ll go and have something to eat prepared for you," said Mrs. Osbury. " Is it not too late?" I asked. " It is never too late to perform a pleasant duty," she replied. Just before leaving the room she slyly shook her finger at the Colonel, and I knew then that he had been drinking too much. I wanted to ask about Luzelle, but, supposing that she had gone to bed, and, above all, desirous of avoiding a possible betrayal of myself, I re frained from mentioning her name. " Now," said the Colonel, " I am going to take a small drink a small one, now, understand and then I want you to give me a strict account of yourself." He poured liquor from a decanter which he took from a corner of the mantel-piece, drank, sat down, and, wiping his mouth, said: " Yes, suh, I want the strictest sort of an account of yourself. I have read over our manuscript time and again since you have 222 A KENTUCKY COLONEL. been gone, always wishing that you were here to help me along with it. Ah, my boy, that was an awful fight, and they do say, old fellow" (reaching over and placing his hand on my knee), " that it was a pity your marksmanship wasn t as good as your grit. But it s all over now and settled for the best, I hope. Henry and the jailor got away from the mob, but they had to do some tall hustling. Of course it was all right the next day, and not a man would have laid hands on them. Now, I m going to take just one more drink, and then I m not going to say another word until you have given an account of yourself. You needn t wait till Mary comes back, for I can tell her. Just one more drink, understand." He took another drink, and, sitting down, requested me to proceed with my recital. I did so, giving a faithful account of my trip into Tennessee and of my severe illness, but did not tell him that my faithful nurse had once stood on his porch complacently taking off her gloves in the midst of a gathering storm. " So you left your watch for her!" he exclaimed. " Yes. " " You did right, my boy, no matter what her past life might have been." I had told him a part of her history. " Yes, suh," he continued after a moment of silence, " and hanged if we don t send her a check for a hun dred dollars. Now I am going to take just one more drink, and " " I don t think you should take any more, Colonel." " Well, then, I won t do it, Phil ; that s all there is A KENTUCKY COLONEL. 223 about it. What you say goes. Never missed a man so in my life ; never in my life, and I m getting along in years, Philip. Oh, I h^ve missed people, but not that much. There s such a thing, you know, as loving a man. Now, suh, I pledge you my word that if I take this drink I won t take another one to-night. Just one, now just a small one." He drank again, and instead of resuming his seat, stood in front of the fire, with his hands behind his back. His face underwent a sudden change. " Luzelle " he faltered. I gazed with eagerness. " Luzelle went away with a dramatic company and " " Now, Remington," said Mrs. Osbury, who had entered the room, " be more careful of what you are saying. Come to supper, Mr. Burwood, and I will tell you all about it. The Colonel has been drinking for a day or two," she added, when she and I had passed out into the hall. I scarcely heard her. My senses were just enough alive to know that my heart was sinking. Gone away with a dramatic company! Great God! " Sit down there and I will tell you all about it. She has not gone with a dramatic company. Last week Brother Buck organized a sort of Thespian club. They played at Emryville and decided to go over to Clychester. Luzelle was a member, and, of course, wanted to go. They were to start one evening it is only twenty miles away and as the Colonel was not at the house when she came to ask permission, and as she had no time to lose, I told her to go. The Colonel, to my surprise, was much annoyed, although 224 A KENTUCKY COLONEL. he had cheerfully agreed that she might play in Emry- ville; and as he has been drinking though not very much, I am sure he will have it that the Thespian club, having gone away from home, has necessarily become a regular dramatic company. For my part I was truly glad that Luzelle could find something to take an interest in, for you don t know what that poor girl has undergone lately. " What relief did her words bring to me, and yet the removing of the heavy weight had left a bruise, for I knew what she had undergone; I knew Savely had taken her heart with him. " As the Colonel continues to be so much annoyed," Mrs. Osbury continued, " I want you to drive over to Clychester to-morrow morning and tell her that she must come home." " I will do so with pleasure," I answered. " Do have something more," she said when I shoved back my chair. " No, I thank you." " You haven t eaten anything. The water is still hot let me boil you another egg. No? Well, then, let us go back into the library." We found the Colonel stretched out on the sofa, snoring. His pipe lay on the floor beside him. " Remington! Remington!" " Yes," he replied, sitting up. " I was just think ing," said he, " that we ought to get down to our work again as soon as possible. Yes, lying here thinking how to shape up a thing that had just come into my head. Man ^ets to thinking sometimes, you know, A KENTUCKY COLONEL. 225 and can t quit. Phil, old boy, they can t call you a coward, anyway; can they?" " I hope not," I answered. " Well, I know they can t." " Remington, Mr. Burv/ood is going after Luzelle to-morrow." " No, just let her stay where she is. If she thinks more of the stage than she does of me, all right. Never thought a child of mine would come to such an end. And now let me tell you, Mary, if Buck ever puts his foot on this place again 111 hurt him hurt him, sure, now; mind what I tell you, that if he ever puts his foot on this place again I ll hurt him, and hurt him bad. After all our association, he persuades my daughter to become an actress why, I ll hurt him." " Come, Remington, it s time you were going to bed." " Oh, it s not late. Phil and I have got to talk over old times." " Not to-night, for it s eleven o clock." " Did Haney bring that saddle back?" " Yes; don t you know you brought it in from the vard gate and hung it up?" " That s so. I tell you what, I m studying so hard lately that it s as much as I can do to remember any thing. " " Come now, it s bed-time." " All right," he said, getting up and putting his arm around her. " Whatever you say, Mary, is true. If the recording angel was to dispute something that you 16 226 A KENTUCKY COLONEL. said is true, I d say, Look here, you d better look over your books again." " It is wicked to talk that way, dear." " Well, I would. I d just demand an investigation right off." Shortly after I had gone to bed, some one tapped on the door. " Mr. Burwood." It was Mrs. Osbury s voic*. " Yes," I answered. " Is there enough cover on your bed ? " "Yes, plenty." " Are you sure ? " " Yes, quite sure." " Well, if it should turn colder before day you will find plenty of cover in the closet. Good night." " Good night," I repeated, and added (though t don t believe she heard me), " God bless you!" CHAPTER XVI. A GREAT DRAMATIC EVENT. WE had breakfast early the next morning. The Colonel did not join us, but just as I was about to drive away from the yard gate, he came out, and, bidding me wait a moment, stood with his arms resting on the fence. The expression on his face had gathered into a flushed seriousness. " Philip, I hope you may have a pleasant ride." " I think I shall, sir, as the day is bright." " Let me see you a moment." I got out of the buggy, and he conducted me along the fence (although no one was within hearing), he on one side and I on the other. " Phil," he said, stopping, " I want you to tell the truth now. Didn t I behave shamefully last night ? " " How so ? " I asked, feigning surprise. A light began to shine in his eyes the light of hope. II Why er to tell the truth, wasn t I as drunk as a fool ? " " You took several drinks after I came, but I did not regard that as anything unusual." "But didn t I make you feel ashamed of me ashamed for the sake of my wife? " " Why, of course not. " The light of hope burned brighter. He reached over the fence, seized my hand and warmly shook it, 228 A KENTUCKY COLONEL. It is honest, unquestionably, to tell a sensitive man, the next day after a night of intoxication, that he made himself ridiculous, but it is hardly honorable at least it is an unnecessary piece of cruelty; for his repent ance is deep and his humiliation is great. Self-despis ing, he dares not hope for encouragement, and, a nerv ous coward, he is afraid of sympathy. When he has recovered you may lecture him. The gentlest touch hurts the bone-felon, but without pain you can press the well finger. Just before reaching Clychester, a team attached to a wood wagon ran into the buggy and smashed one of the wheels. At a shop near by I was told that the damage could not be repaired before the following day, so I walked into the town. I regretted the accident, yet it was not wholly deplorable, as it would give me an opportunity of seeing a performance given by Uncle Buck s company; and that I should not be likely to meet Uncle Buck or any one whom I might chance to know, I avoided public places until night. The per formance, the second or third one of the series, was to take place in the town hall. A play bill about the size of a funeral ticket announced that " Hineman s Blue-Grass Dramatic Combination" had met with "phe nomenal success " and that a failure to see " one of their splendid renditions would ever be remembered with regret." At the proper time, the village cornet band, gathering about a horse block in front of the hall, played " Dixie," " Old Kentucky Home " and a stir ring medley, arranged by the leading professor of the 11 Female College," People began to climb the narrow A KENTUCKY COLONEL. $ 29 stairway leading to the hall; the mayor and board of aldermen marched down in a body and went up free, and the town marshal with his hickory club, cut from the summit of a neighboring " knob," went up the same way. At the top ot the staircase, in a sort of improvised box office, I saw old Buck. A snapping turtle, sunning himself on a log in the spring of the year, could never have been more in his glory than old Buck was at that moment. I pulled down my hat and stepped aside into a narrow passage-way to watch the old man s maneuvers. "Fifty cents for front seats, twenty-five for seats back of the chalk line. Oh, yes, fillin up right along. What do you want, boy? Step out of the way." " I carried bills around," the boy replied. " Oh, well, I can t help that. I ve passed in fifty boys already on that score. Hold on. Some of them may be frauds and you may be honest. Go on in. Ah, lady, front seat? Here s a fine one, first-class view of the stage. Say, Steve" (addressing a negro), " did that fiddler say he would come back?" " No, sah, he say you wouldn t pay him enough." " Why, the trifling rascal, how much does he want? Does he want the box office receipts? Go back and tell him that I ll make it fifty-five cents and not a cent more. Front seat, suh?" I had stepped up to the window. In a disguised voice I told him yes. The rush was not great, and I had no trouble in getting a seat near the stage. I could scarcely persuade myself into the belief that Luzellft 230 A KENTUCKY COLONEL. was soon to appear before me. I took up a programme, and there was her name. She was to be a flower girl. The play (an announcement made in black type) was a " dramatization of that wonderfully thrilling and popular novel, The Baron s Daughter; or, The Whispering Duke/ written and adapted to the stage by America s coming favorite writer of fiction, Miss Annie Bumpus, who, a great actress as well as a great writer, assumes the thrilling role of the Baron s Daughter." The fiddler must have accepted old Buck s terms, for he soon came in and, establishing himself as the orchestra, played " Money Musk." And then the curtain went up. Miss Bumpus sat on a box over spread with a piece of green calico (representing a mossy stone) and was dreamily gazing toward the west. " Will he never come?" she asked. " Ah, he comes." A young fellow with a red feather in his hat ap proached her, and holding out his hands, murmured, " Agnes, so soon here?" She seized his hands and pulled him down beside her. The box, one corner of which had been dam- aged, tilted, and the young fellow fell off, but, soon recovering himself, he said; " This ancient stone, covered with the moss of ages, is no firmer, Agnes, than I." " Rupert, you thrill me." " Then why do you not consent to be my bride and fly, fly away with me? " Ah, woe is me! Do you not know that the Whispering Duke has sworn to make me his own?" A KENTUCKY COL ONEL. 2 3 1 " But fly with me! See, my charger is yonder, champing his bit and shaking his rich caparisons in welcome. " " Would I were with thee always, Rupert." " Ah, you send through my veins a tingling of heaven. Come, Agnes, fly with me." " Rupert, lord of my young heart s fresh and dewy kingdom, it is for your sake that I do not go." " Why for my sake, queen of my soul? " " Because I love thee and would not see ill betide thee. The Whispering Duke has sworn upon the hilt of his mighty sword that he will be avenged upon the man who attempts to thwart his deep-laid de signs. Hush! merciful heavens, here he comes! Fly, Rupert. " "I will not fly." " If you love me, fly." " Then I will fly, but no other consideration under that bright and glorious sun above us would cause me to fly." He " flew," and, a moment later, there appeared another young fellow. He wore great spurs, a frowsy wig and immense whiskers. He strutted up to the " Baron s daughter," and striking his hip with a buck skin glove, exclaimed: " Whose voice, ringing throughout the glen, smote upon my ear?" " My voice," she answered. " Your voice? Talking to whom were you?" "To my dog." " Gone whither is the animal? I see him not." 232 A KENTUCKY COLONEL. " He has scampered down into the glen, where he saw a wild-eyed hare at play." " Beware, Agnes St. Brevaro, beware!" "Oh, leave me." " I will not leave thee until thou art pledged to be mine." " I do not love you." Croak, croak, croak. The Whispering Duke was laughing. " Do not love me! What care I for that? Proud and defiant maiden, I have sworn to wed thee. To-morrow I will see thee again. For the present, farewell. " The next scene was intended to be a village street, and I was smiling at its incongruities, when Luzelle, carrying a basket of flowers, came out. I no longer saw the not-intended humor of the play; no longer heard the stilted sentences. I saw Luzelle, I heard her voice nothing more. I sat leaning forward, to avoid recognition sat entranced, now happy, now miser able. One moment I was sworn to declare my love; the next moment I could see that her heart had gone away with Boyd Savely. I learned from the fiddler, at the conclusion of the performance, that there was no way out except by the narrow stairs in front, so I stood near the stage waiting for Luzelle to comedown. The young men soon came, as the only alterations necessary to render them pre sentable in the street consisted of the removal of whis kers, wigs and a few marks of paint. After a while a long and nervous while it was to me Luzelle, Miss Bumpus and several other youn^ ladies came down A KENTUCKY COLONEL. 233 into the " auditorium." I stepped forward. Luzelle saw me, dropped a rose which she was carrying in her hand, took up the flower, and, advancing to meet me, said: Mr. Burwood, you have come here to make fun of us, I suppose." " No," I replied, " I have come at your mother s request. She wants you to return home. The buggy was broken just before I reached here, or I should have called for you this morning." " I will go with you," she said, picking the rose to pieces. " Miss Annie, here is Mr. Burwood." Miss Bumpus came forward with a sort of willowy waver, which she undoubtedly thought must be ex ceedingly graceful, and bowed to me with a sweep- back motion. Then she held out her hand, bending her wrist in imitation of a swan s neck. " You witnessed the rendition, I hope," she said. " But let me introduce these young ladies, future stars, I am sure. " I was introduced, and had forgotten their names within two minutes afterward. " How did you like the rendition?" she asked. "Very much," I replied, and, glancing at Luzelle, saw that the merest suggestion of a sneer had crept between her lips. Miss Bumpus, however, stood in surprise, not having been prepared for the faint per fume of compliment, but expecting the strong odor of praise. " Why, helloa, here! " exclaimed old Buck, rushing upon me and seizing my hand. " Never did expect to see you alive again. By George, I am glad to see 234 A KENTUCKY COLONEL. you. Didn t pay your way in, did you? Why didn t you make yourself known? Hard matter for a man in a box-office to recognize anybody, you know. Did you come over to join our troupe? " "He came to take me home," Luzelle answered. The old fellow gasped. " Why, Burwood, that will break up the troupe. Don t do anything so rash as that, my dear boy. " " But Mrs. Osbury has sent for her." Oh, Mary ought to know better than that. Here I am, now, after years and years of useless work, just beginning to make money hand over fist, to be hurled to the ground. Burwood, this is the only thoroughly moral play that ever went out under the management of a veteran. Why, suh, there ain t a hug, not even a kiss, in it. People everywhere are delighted. We don t have to pay any hotel bills stop at private houses, as some of us have relatives in every town we strike. Go back and explain the situation to Mary. Tell her that Luzelle s place cannot be filled. " " I am going with him, Uncle Buck." " Now, look here, Luzelle, that ain t n way to talk. You are ft the high road to success to make some thing of yourself, and I don t think anybody s got a right to ask you to drop back." " Mr. Burwood," said Luzelle, turning away, " you may call for me at Captain Porter s to-morrow morn ing. Good night. Come on, Miss Annie." " The Id man took me by the arm and led me down to the sidewalk, earnestly imploring me not to A KENTUCKY COLONEL. 235 break up his company. Just before we parted at a street corner, he said: " Now, you air going to regret this." " I tell you, Mr. Hineman, that the girl s mother is the mover in the affair." " Oh, well, but you can go back and fix it all right with her." " Yes, I ll fix it all right by taking the young lady home. " " Confound the infernal luck, it was always this way. Never saw the like in my life. Everybody is trying to keep me from doin anything. But I am not goin to give up. I am goin to take the company on an lead them to success. Good-by. I never expect to see you agin." When I called at Captain Porter s, early the next morning, I found Luzelle waiting for me. When she came out to the gate, I saw how pale she was, and how many traces of suffering there were upon her face. " I know the cause," I mused, " and I will not add to your grief by a mention of that cause I will not distress you by declaring my love of you. I will wait, and perhaps I may win you into a forgetfulness of a man who is not worthy to look upon your face." As we were driving along, I told Luzelle of my ex perience in Tennessee. In fact, she asked me to tell her more of the peculiar family which I had spoken of in my letter. I told her of Miss Hatton, told her, as nearly as I could, what sort of life the teacher had led, but did not, of course, mention the fact that she had once been Fred s wife. 236 A KENTUCKY COLONEL. "She has a sympathetic heart at least," she said, when I had finished, " and I don t know but that in the final judgment her soul may be brighter than the soul of many a woman who has lived a refined but cold and uncharitable life. Many a weed bears a beautiful flower, while many a flower has but the rank scent of the weed. Oh, I have been so tired, so worn, since that dreadful affair in EmryvilLe. It seems as if I had lived an age since then." " We both have need to forget it," I answered. " Yes, but to forget in the face of a constant re minder but let us not talk about it. Have you been reading much lately?" " Not very much; The Moss Side of the Tree " " Oh! have you read that? I sent to Louisville for it, having read so much about it in the newspapers. You know I told you once that I like American novels best, and Wigglesworth is surely a true American. Some of his touches of nature are simply beautiful not so grand as the descriptions of scenery found in Euro pean novels, but gentle, sweet, and dewy. Other descriptions may be blazing sunflowers, but his are gentle violets, found unexpectedly." Never before had she talked so much to me; never with such unreserve had she shown me the sentimental beauties of her nature. No other twenty miles were ever so short to me, and as much as I had learned to love the old brick house, a feeling of disappointment came into my heart when its chimneys arose into view. They had waited dinner for us, and the Colonel, A KENTUCKY COLONEL. 237 now his old self, talked with mirthful encouragement of our work. " Why, Luzelle," said Mrs. Osbury, " your theatrical tour has helped you." "Traveling," she answered, smiling at me, "has ever been recommended for lowness of spirits." " Well, we don t want any lowness of spirits around here, "said the Colonel. "Everything ought to be bright where literary work is going on." After dinner we sat in the parlor. It was a happy day, a bright and joyous day, a day of hope. Look ing out, I could not see a cloud. CHAPTER XVII. THE OLD MAN WAS HUNGRY. THE next morning, upon coming down-stairs, 1 found Luzelle sweeping the gallery. The dogs, trot ting up and down, in frosty-morning friskiness, were always in the way, and made pretenses of extreme fear when Luzelle threatened them with the broom. The picture was so bright that I stood for some time unobserved, not wishing to blur it; but I did blur it when, shortly afterward, I spoke to her. She replied in a cool way, and, placing the broom in a corner, she stood with her hands resting on the railing of the " banisters," gazing far away over the frosted fields. 11 You are not well this morning, are you?" I asked. " Yes, quite well, I thank you." " You seem to have changed since yesterday." " I don t know that I have changed," she answered, glancing at me with a coolness that made me shiver. " Come in to breakfast," said the Colonel, stepping out on the gallery. " Get down, you trifling rascal. " (One of the dogs was trying to put his paws on the old gentleman s shirt bosom). " Bright day, Phil. Good day to take up our work again." Luzelle did not even glance at me during the meal. " What can have brought about this change?"! mused. M I see. The freshness of meeting me again having A KENTUCKY COLONEL. 239 worn off, she has turned toward Boyd Savely. I will not increase the weight of her burden. I will wait, and perhaps there may come another day of encour agement." With dogged strength I held to this determination. She gave me not the slightest cause to break it. In the hall, in the parlor, and in the library, which, by chance, it seemed, she sometimes entered, she wore the same coolness of expression her eyes had the same distant look. I tried to recall the easy conversation in which we, riding over a too- rapidly-shortening road, had indulged our playfulness of fancy, but I could reproduce only the scene: the words refused a second utterance. The Colonel was delighted when we resumed our work. To me the pen moved with ungraceful stiff ness; but, with a kindly-meant dissimulation, I made a pretense of keen concern. " By the way, "said the Colonel, " you haven t told me what arrangements you made in Louisville for bringing out the history." " I didn t succeed in making any arrangements." " Did the trouble come on before you had a chance to see the publishers? It has been on my mind pretty much all the time since you came back to ask you, but I supposed all along that the arrangements were about completed. Did you call on any of them?" I related my experience. The old man got up from the sofa, stood for a few moments in front of the fire, thinking deeply, and then said: " Philip, they are wolves. That s what they are nothing but howling and snarling wolves. The life of 240 A KENTUCKY COLONEL, every man who has ever written a book is a proof of the fact that those fellows are wolves. Well " (after a few moments), " we can t allow them to scare us. We ll go to Cincinnati, to Chicago, to New York and Boston, suh, before we will submit to their rascality. What do you think of it? " " I have been thinking," I rejoined, " that it would be a good idea for yo 11 to bring the book out your self." " How? What do you mean? " " Why, have the type set, plates made, and pay some printer to do the press-work Then, instead of receiv ing a mere pittance as royalty, whatever is made on the book belongs to you." " Phil! " exclaimed the Colonel, reaching my chair almost at a bound and slapping me on the shoulder, " you have simply hit the nail square on the head. We will bring that thing out, to the everlasting shame of those rascals. Sell? why, it s bound to sell. People want American literature. They don t want to read about old castles and Lord So-and-So all the time. They want to see the the the they want to see the soil of our own earth clinging to the shoes of of of " (the metaphor was too much for him) " in fact, they want home stuff home stuff. And we ll give it to them. I m going to take a toddy now. Oh, it s the first to-day," he added, as I looked up at him. " Bless your life, my boy, I wouldn t take too much for anything. I don t drink very much. No matter how often I am in town, I never go into a saloon. You have seen me under the influence of liquor twice, A KENTUCKY COLONEL. 241 Yoti ll never see it again. Ah, it s a curse, but if we know how to handle the stuff it s all right. My father lived to be eighty, and took his liquor all along. But it s bad, and I thank God that my boys don t touch it." He took a drink, sat down, and, after a time, said: " Our relations are with printers now, and literary merit doesn t enter into the transaction." One of the neighbors, who came from Emryville the next evening after the Colonel and I had returned to our work, brought me a letter from Fred. " I don t care whether the world keeps on or not," were the letter s opening words. " I m tired. What do you think ? I asked that girl to have me, and she said she was engaged to a fellow that raises fruit. That settles it with me. If there ever was a heart broken man in this world I m him. I don t see why I should have such infernal luck. I am n. g., I reckon. I never saw as pretty girl in my life, and to think that she is going to marry a man that raises fruit ! I ll bet he s a clod-hopper, too. Sometimes I think women ain t got any sense. I could give that girl a good home, but, no, she must marry a man that has to raise fruit. I read a long account of your fight. I am sorry you and Boyd fell out. He s a good fellow if you hit him right. He learned me how to swim a long time ago. But it s all over now, for I am cast down. I wish I had you here. Don t say anything about it. Glad to know that you are game. I don t know how long I ll stay here. There is nothing left IB 242 A KENTUCKY COLONEL. but darkness on the face of the earth for me. I was reading a book about a young fellow in the army that had a funny Irishman named Mickey with him, and liked it, but it s all over now. "Yours, FRED." The next day was Sunday, and, while eating rather a late breakfast, we heard the dogs whining and yelping on the gallery; and, a moment later, we were greeted by Henry Osbury. He had, upon coming back from a visit to Louisville, heard of my return, and, without stopping to see how his business affairs were getting on (he slyly winked at me upon making this announce ment), hastened to his father s house. We talked of that awful night at the jail, and I, for the third time since my return, related my experience among the rugged hills of Tennessee. Luzelle, who had professed such amusement in the vagaries of the Grider family, did not even smile when, at some length and with not a little attempted ingenuity, I dwelt upon their oddities; and, in proof that she was not even interested in my recital, she frowned slightly when I mentioned the close attention which Miss Hatton had paid me during my illness. " What do you want ? " the Colonel asked, turning to a negro who had appeared at the dining-room door. " Mr. Buck is out ter de gate, sah. " " Well, you go back and tell him that if he don t want to gat hurt he d better stay away from here." " Now, Remington," said Mrs. Osbury, " don t talk that way." A KENTUCKY COLONEL. 243 " Well, now, he shan t come into this house, I ll tell you that right now." " What s the matter ? " Henry asked. " Why, you know of his hurrahing dramatic com pany business. Trying to haul Luzelle around as an actress ! Tell him if he comes in this house I ll hurt him ! " " Yas, sah," the negro replied, " but he say he hon- gry, sah." " Hungry ! " the Colonel exclaimed. " Dat s whut he say." " Well, go and tell him to come in here and get something to eat." Without the shaking of a hand or a " how are you ? " without showing in his countenance an expression to indicate that he had been absent even for half an hour, old Buck approached the table. " Remington," he said as he seated himself, " who do you reckon I saw over at Clinton, yesterday ? " "I don t know." "OldBobSevier." " Not our old Bob ! " the Colonel exclaimed. "Yes, suh, our old Bob." " You don t say so ! " said the Colonel, slowly draw* ing out his words in that ruminating and half wandering way which often comes to men advanced in life, when reminded of some one who was once well known, but who has been forgotten. " Well, well, old Bob Sevier! The last time I saw him was in fifty-nine, I think. He was just starting for Mississippi with a lot of negroes, How does he look ? " A KENTUCKY COLONEL. " Fust-rate," old Buck answered, taking a cup of coffee which Mrs. Osbury handed him. " Gray, but don t look so mighty old." " What s he doing ? " " Not much of anything. Running a sort of livery stable." " Let s see," said the Colonel. " What was the name of that fellow that married old Bob s daughter; that black-eyed one ? " " Don t recollect. Wasn t it Hankins?" " No, his name began, I think, with a C. What in the name of common sense was his name? Wasn t it Cooper?" " No," Buck replied. " You are thinking of that fel low that married a Miss Pemberton." " Confound that fellow s name; it was on the end of my tongue this very minute." " I come in one of speakin it just then," said Buck. " It begins with an L, I think. Why, I remember when he was married a heap better than I do things that took place the other day. Humph. I thought I had it then." " Are any of you going to church to-day?" Mrs. Osbury asked. Brother Fuller preaches his farewell sermon." " Has the Lord called him off? 5 the Colonel in quired." " Yes," Mrs. Osbury rejoined; " he is going over to Haywood. " " Increase of pay, I reckon." " Yes, I suppose so. " A KENTUCKY COLONEL. 245 Are his services more needed over there than they are here?" " I suppose not." " Well, then," said the old gentleman, " he is going simply because he gets more money. The Lord hasn t got anything to do with it." " But, Remington, would you muzzle the ox " " That s all right, Mary. I wouldn t muzzle him and I wouldn t go to hear him preach, either. That state ment about the ox is a very fortunate thing, and I war rant you it is quoted in every house in Kentucky when ever anything is said about the pay of preachers. I don t object to their receiving pay, but I do object to their attempt to make me believe that the Lord tells them to go, not where they can do the most good, but where they can make the most money. What in the deuce was that fool s name?" The Colonel shoved back his chair and sat, slowly nodding his head in a worrying effort to recall the name of the man who had married old Bob Sevier s daughter. Mrs. Osbury and Luzelle went to church; the Colonel, still in perplexed thought, betook himself to the li brary; old Buck went out to the corn-crib to take a consoling turn at his long-neglected flute, and Henry and I, crossing the stubble-field, strolled into the woods. The sun was bright, and the frosty " nip " that was in the air, driven from the fields, took ambush in the deep shade of the trees. The rabbit, sitting crouched down in a bed scratched out under the end of an old hg, melted, with his gentle breath, the frost on the 246 A KENTUCKY COLONEL. dead leaves that lay under his nose; and the squirrel, with his nervous tail, sunned himself high up in the forks of an oak. Henry and I talked on many subjects talked as though we had been boys together and had met after a long separation. " I was very much amused in Louisville, the other day, " said my friend. " An old gentleman a divine, they term him who had preached in the country during many years, was given a charge in the city. Believing that he had carried his holy warfare into one of Satan s most strongly intrenched dwelling-camps, he proceeded to visit the dens of iniquity with a view of preaching a sermon to men. I went, and although his effort was honest, it was assuredly absurd. It does seem to me that such attempts of preachers are ridicu lously ill-timed. The idea of giving the experience of two hours to men who have had a similar or worse experience of many years ! And besides, a man who has been the rounds has learned more in two hours than a preacher can tell him in two years. Ah, my dear boy, it is very easy for us, in a certain sense, to be as wise as serpents, but who among us is as harm less as a dove? Thackeray lamented, you know, that since the burial of the author of Tom Jones it was left to no other writer to depict the passions of a man. Thackeray had not read the American newspaper very closely; he had not read the proceedings of a divorce court. The truth is, that we are all men, very mnch after the manner of Tom Jones, and the united effort of the entire clergy cannot make manikins of us. A KENTUCKY COLONEL. 247 It has been said that where there is no passion there is no virtue, and the best we can do, having inherited our desires, is to be agreeably hypo critical in society, upright in private, and honest always. The so-called strong-minded women cry out against our presumptuousness in demanding purity in the opposite sex while our lives have not been pure, and, technically, they are right, but old mother Nature has granted certain prerogatives to man. Well, now," he broke off, " I don t know what should have called out this unholy discourse. So you left your watch for the school-teacher." " Yes; had to soothe my conscience in some way." " Rather a peculiar I don t know, though. There are many such women in the world. Did she fall in love with you?" "Oh, no." " I didn t know but she might have been trying to marry you." " No; we knew each other." " Knew each other! " he repeated. " Had you met before?" "Yes." " During some round in a city, I suppose." " No, at your father s house." " What do you mean! " he exclaimed, stopping, and, in surprise and confusion, turning upon me. " I mean that Fred once brought her home as his wife." " Well, I ll swear! And you recognized each ther?" 248 A KENTUCKY COLONEL. " Yes, but did not, for some time, speak of our former meeting. " " Then what she did for you was done purely through kindness of heart. Have you told the folks at the house?" " No, and I don t intend to yet awhile." " I don t think you should. Helloa, yonder s Jack Gap." Mr. Gap, whom we soon overtook, was walking along the path, kicking at chunks and lumps of earth. He professed exceeding gladness upon seeing me, and declared that he would have come up to the house to call on me but that he had been so busy. " Never did low to see you alive no mo atter you went in that jail," said he. " I done all I could, but thar war too many fur me. I fout an fout, an got knocked down two or three times, but it wa n t no use." " How is your wife? " I asked, with a desire to change the subject, for, however much we may respect our own necessity to tell a lie, we do not recognize the necessity in other people. " Wall, she ain t so mighty peart sence the baby died. Grieves mightily, sometimes. Folks up to the house war powerful kind to us. Gin us ever thing we wanted, an the Colonel paid me fur a month s work that I didn t do. I m lookin fur a bee tree out here in the woods. Yander s Isom." The negro climbed over a low fence that ran through the woods, approached us, and, after greeting Henry and me, turned to Gap and said: . A KENTUCKY COLONEL. 249 " W y kain t you 1 arn ter let things erlone dat doan long ter you, hah? " I don t know whut you re talkin about." " Yes, you does. You know you tuck dem patidges outen dat trap o mine. You know dat well ez I does, an I wanter tell you right now ef you keep foolin wid me I ll walk yo laug, sho. I wa n t put yere ter be run ober by no po white man, I ll tell you dat right now; an ef you s got ernuff sense ter pay ertention ter de word wid de bark on it you ll let my things erlone. Yere me? " " Go on, now; I don t want no words with you." " Doan sass me " shaking his fist in Gap s face " doan sass me ur I ll parlize you right yere. Deze yere genermen ain gwine he p you, caze da knows you. Neenter think caze da s yere you ken stick out yo mouf at me." " Look a-here, now, I won t let no blamed niggei rub his fist under my nose." " You mer call me er nigger an all dat, but you mustn t steal no mo patidges out my trap. I ll let you off dis time, but cut ernuder sicher caper an you s my meat, sho. Genermen" addressing Henry and me "I wishes you mighty well, an I bids you good mawnin . I d cotch dem patidges fur you, Mr. Henry. I wuz gwine fetch em right up dar ter town an gin em ter you an not charge you er cent, nuther. Oh, I wa n t gwine take money eben ef you had tried ter shove it on me. I knows er good man when I sees him, I does. I knows whar ter git er quarter w en I 250 A KENTUCKY COLONEL. ain t got nuthin . But ef I d ax you fur er quarter right now you d " " Here," said Henry, handing him twenty-five cents, " stop the harangue." " Erho" (taking the money), " whut sklamation wuz dat? Errang, did you say? I wants dat word, sah. I se gwine use it in de pra r meetin . Make er nigger fling up de whites o his eyes." " Isom, you are a genial rascal." " Lissun, dar it is ergin. Da keeper comin my way. Man fool roun you he d dun hab er sermon laid right out. But I ain t no raskil, Mr. Henry. All I want is ter make a livin , dat s all, sah, an I could do it, too, ef it wa n t fur de po white trash. Guber ment oughter send em all outen de country, er haw, haw. Send Gap dar de fust one, er haw, haw. Come tryin ter put hisse f on ur quality wid folks. Doan mine dat so much ez I do his stealin my patidges." Henry and I strolled back toward the house, leaving Gap and the negro standing in the path threatening each other. " They are both rascals," Henry remarked. " The negro is the better man physically, and Gap knows it. By the way, can t you go to town with me this even ing? " " No; the Colonel and I are very busy, and must begin work early to-morrow morning." " This thing of writing a book must involve consid erable work." " It does. There is nothing more tiresome than handling a pen after it has become heavy." A KENTUCKY COLONEL. 251 " I suppose not. I hope to see you in town, how ever, as soon as you can come. Old Major Patterson talks about you every time he meets me. He thinks a great deal of you, and sometimes expresses a joking lament that you were not with him years ago when, as he expresses it, folks thought they could run over old Tobias." CHAPTER XVIII. HAD HATED HERSELF. THE weeks passed, and I saw no change in Luzelle. Indeed, it seemed that we were farther apart than we had been during the early days of our acquaintance. The buggy-ride from Clychester was a sweetly-regret ful memory. The " History of Shellcut County" was completed, and the Colonel, having visited Louisville (leaving me to write the preface), had made arrangements for the printing of the book. The old gentleman was delighted with the preface. " Why, suh," said he, " that alone ought to sell the work. There is no use talking, we ve got up a piece of literature that will take. If it is a literary success I don t care whether it sells or not. I only speak of its selling because peo ple gauge the excellence of a book in that way. We ll send copies to the principal newspapers, and after we get a number of notices, we ll sit down some evening and read them. You keep them, for I don t want to see one of them until you collect a whole batch. Then we ll have a love-feast. " I saw so much in the newspapers and magazines complimentary of Wigglesworth s novel that I read the book again, and this time saw many beauties that I had at first failed to notice; and what I had at first 253 - A KENTUCKY COLONEL. 253 taken to be a weakness in character portrayal I now discovered to be a sly and delicate drawing. I read the book to the Colonel. " Oh, it s so-so," said the old man; " not very good and not very bad. Good description, good conversa tion, but it hasn t got the jolt in it. Confound the infernal luck." He arose and began to walk up and down the room. " What s the matter?" I asked. " Oh, I m trying to think of that infernal name." "What name?" " The name of the fool that married old Bob Sevier s daughter. I do know that a thing of that sort wor ries me worse than any man in the world. If it amounted to anything I probably wouldn t pay any attention to it. Last night, when Hammonds and Jinny were here, spitting and talking about Norfolk, as if that s the only place where a man can get anything to eat, I couldn t do a thing but try to think of that Jarvis! Jarvis!" he exclaimed. "That s it Jarvis, Jarvis, Roseberry Jarvis; and a grander rascal never lived. Jarvis, Jarvis, Roseberry Jarvis. Oh, Buck!" he called, stepping to the door. A moment later the " veteran manager " entered. " That fellow s name was Jarvis." " That s a fact, Remington Roseberry Jarvis." " Yes, suh, Roseberry Jarvis." " I didn t think to ask old Bob what had become of him." " Oh," the Colonel responded, " I don t care a snap what has become of him. I just didn t want to be 254 A KENTUCKY COLONEL. bothered out of my life trying to think of his name. So Bob looks all right, does he?" " Yes, but he s as gray as a wharf rat." " He s got many a sin to answer for. Used to treat negroes shamefully. You remember old Caroline? How she did beg me to buy her, and I did it mainly because Bob treated her mean. I don t suppose there ever was a negro trader that had any soul. They never were respected, you know, even by large slave-owners. Roseberry Jarvis," he thoughtfully added, and then resumed his seat. One afternoon, when the Colonel was out somewhere and while I was lying on the sofa in the library, Luzelle came into the room. " Where is pa?" she asked. " I don t know. He stepped out just a few moments Ago. Shall I go out and call him?" " No, I thank you. I can see him after awhile. I had thought of visiting some friends over in Woolfred County and merely wanted to get his consent." " How long do you expect to be gone?" " Oh, I don t know. Until spring, doubtless. I am tired tired of everything." She stood with one hand resting on the mantel-piece. Her face was pale, and the bright light in her eyes seemed to cast dark shadows immediately under them. " I am sorry you are going away even for so short a time," I said. " Why?" " Because I shall miss you, and because " " Because what?" A KENTUCKY COLONEL. 255 " Well, the truth is, I shall be gone before you return. As my work here is about completed there is no reason why I should remain any longer." " No, I suppose not," she answered, carelessly, looking toward the door. " A great deal of experience has been compacted into my Shellcut career," I said, with a masterful effort to force upon myself the semblance of uncon cern. " Yes," she rejoined, " and you must ever look back upon it as the nightmare in your dream of life." " Not a nightmare, but parts of the dream have been feverish." " Some of your trouble, appearing to have been a sort of fate, could not have been avoided, but, upon the whole, I believe that we could have made your stay more pleasant for you. Where do you expect to go?" she asked, not giving me time to reply to her statement of implied regret that my stay in Shellcut had not been more pleasant. " I don t know will again incline to drift aimlessly, I suppose." " I didn t know but that you might go back to Ten nessee." " Why should I want to go there?" I asked, raising up on my elbow and gazing steadily at her. " Oh, I didn t know but you wanted to see Miss - Miss Hatton again." " You ought to know better than that." " Why, * she asked, in exasperating surprise. 2 5 6 4 KENTUCKY COL ONE . " Because you ought to know that I don t care any thing for her." " Care anything for her?" she said, looking up at the ceiling. " You love her." " Luzelle!" I cried, in anguish, starting up, " how can I love her when I worship you!" She uttered a cry the cry of an excited bird, and, with one bound, she reached the sofa, threw her arms about my neck, sank upon her knees and sobbed. Now her tears were on my face; now her ringlets blinded my eyes. It was some time before either of us spoke. She would not let me arise, and, with my arms wound about her, I pressed her to my bosom. " Oh, you have been blind," she said in a choking voice, " so blind." " I thought that you disliked me, angel." " I have hated myself for loving you so much, and here I am now, kneeling and feasting on your love, drunk at the banquet table of idolatry. Who is so humble as a proud woman that loves! I could not be lieve that you loved me. Sometimes I could hardly keep from seizing you in my arms, but then that cold look would come into your eyes. On that awful night, that night when you rode away in the storm, I went heart-broken to bed, and in the morning my pillow was wet from the rain of the storm that had raged in my soul. That night Boyd Savely begged me to marry him. I turned upon him with a madness that could have killed him. With the hand that for a moment had rested in pleading on your arm I could A KENTUCKY COLONEL. have choked him. Tell me, Philip, tell me that you do not care for that woman." " Luzelle," pressing her closer and closer to me, " from the first moment I saw you my heart has been timed by the expression on your face. I could see no love there for me, and my heart, ever since, with the exception of the day when we rode from Clychester, has been bruised and bleeding. The next day, had I seen you smile, I should have told you of " " Oh, but you would not let me smile. You came and looked at me with unemotional eyes. Then I thought you loved that woman. I hate her I could kill her! Oh, you must never have loved any one, Philip. If you have, I will curse the past I will hate every woman that has ever lived. My pride is broken, and I am simply a woman terrible in her love." " I have never loved any one but you, Luzelle. Romantic, perhaps foolishly so, I have looked up ward, believing until I met you that an all-consuming love existed only in novels." " And I," she said, passionately kissing me, " was ever afraid to indulge my thoughts of what love could be was afraid to set up an ideal lest he might be knocked down and shattered. Commonplace men came and went, and, sneering at the reality of a true and soul-stirring devotion crushed into the belief that the world is nothing but a practical ma chine, I consented to marry the son of my father s de voted friend, but one day a cloud blew away and there, in the sunshine of a glorious truth there stood the 17 558 A KENTUCKY COLONEL. man I loved. Blind we have both been blind, Philip." Looking through the ringlets that were tangledabout my eyes, I saw the old Colonel standing a few feet away, with his arms outstretched toward us. The ring lets in heavy masses fell over my eyes, and when again I could look, the old man was gone. CHAPTER XIX. A BLUE-GRASS GIRL. A FEW moments later it may have been two hours, for who, thus engaged, could mark the flight of time? we heard the Colonel walking, with unwonted heavi ness of footstep, down the hallway toward the library door. He did not know that I had seen him, and his heavy walking was to apprise us of his approach. When he entered, Luzelle and I, with hands joined, advanced to meet him. " Phil," said he, appearing to pay noattention to the manner in which his daughter and I presented our selves, " I wouldn t be surprised if we have rain soon. Clouds hanging pretty low over yonder in the west." He went to the mantelpiece, took down his pipe, and, as he was preparing to light it, added: " We gen erally have a good deal of rain at this time of the year. The weather seems compelled to do something, and as it hasn t got quite enough courage to snow very much, takes it out in raining." He sat down in a rocking-chair. Luzelle and I stood before him. " Colonel," I began, " you see " " Yes, I see. You needn t say a word. Dip my pipe in that bed of coals, Luzelle. Goes out every minute. Now come here," he added, speaking to Lu- 259 260 A KENTUCKY COLONEL. zelle when she had lighted his pipe, " sit here on my knee. Phil, sit down on the sofa. Now we are all right." Luzelle put her arms around his neck. " Now," said he, " how long has this thing been going on? I mean this love affair." " It began," I answered, " on the day when I made my first appearance here, but until just now we were far apart, separated by blindness of " 11 You were not far apart when I saw you just now." He laughed, and Luzelle gave him a convulsive squeeze. "We misunderstood each other," I continued, "until just now, when, on a sudden, a bright light fell where a darkness had been." " I didn t know that such a state of affairs existed," said the Colonel. " I know now that my wife has dropped several significant hints, but I was so wrapped up in selfish plans that I paid no attention at the time. If I wanted to be hypocritical, I would show serious concern, but as it is, I must say that I am delighted. Sit rignt where you are, Phil. Luzelle, you are deter mined to choke my pipe out. I had thought for how long I hardly know that some one else would be my con-in-law, and I looked on in a matter-of- course way; but now it is different, and and my heart is touched with a feeling of thankfulness. You are chok ing my pipe out, Luzelle. I have never disguised the fact, Phil, that I am strongly attached to you. From the first you have seemed like a son to me. Luzelle, you may go and tell your mother. There must be no A KENTUCKY COLONEL. 26 1 embarrassment connected with this affair. Phil," he added when Luzelle had left the room, " if I do say it myself there never was a nobler girl; a real woman without false modesty. She ain t much of a talker can t talk nonsense very well, but she s a poet, Phil, a poet content with feeling poetry and not trying to write it she is a Blue-grass girl, suh, not afraid to be natural. I heard much of what " " I saw you standing near the sofa, Colonel." " I did not know you had seen me until I came back, and then I supposed you had. As I was saying, I heard much of what you said to each other, and of course I have always known that Luzelle was warm-hearted, yet not until just now did I know that her nature was so strongly emotional. The greatest women may not be emotional, but I think the truest women are. The emotional woman has a warm and tender preference, but the cold woman regards all men alike. I am going to take a small toddy now with a roasted apple mashed in it. Don t think I m going to take too much, for I m not. I felt bad and chilly this morning or I wouldn t have taken any at all. I feel my liquor just a little, but I ll pledge you my word and honor, Phil, you ll never see me directly under the influence of it again. Old Mat Collier used to say, Man, born of woman, is of few days and full. But it is not going to be that way with me/ Those were days of sweet enchantment. Mrs. Os- bury, with tearful eyes, told me that she had known of Luzelk s deep affection for me, " but," she went on, " I could discover no sign that you loved her. 262 ^ KENTUCKY COLONEL. Love is sometimes invisible as well as blind. I have never seen Remington so delighted; unless," she added blushingly, " it was when coming on horses from church, one day, years ago, we found, at every turn of the road, an opportunity to kiss each other. Of course we have had trials, but he has never ceased to be affectionate." Every day Luzelle surprised me with the unre strained joyousness of her nature. I had no work to do, as we were waiting for the proof-sheets of the his tory, and my time a delightful time, too was spent in making and receiving what Luzelle termed " sweet promises. " The weather was too rainy to admit of rambling in the woods, so we sat in the library, where the fire mutteringly told us to be happy, and where we could see the rain-tears trickling down a great oak that grew near the window. " What children love can make of us all!" she said, as we sat looking over a book of foolish pictures. " Yes," I answered, " but it is better to be a child, knowing that our love is returned, than to be a giant in doubt." " We will henceforth be children," she replied; we have been giants long enough. Philip, I am super stitious as well as devoted, and I believe that some thing awful would happen if you were to stop loving me just for a single moment. You needn t smile, "she added, smoothing back my hair, " for I actually believe it. I claim absolute possession. Your mind must not wander away from me for a second. But won t you A KENTUCKY COLONEL. 263 forget me while you are reading that good-for-nothing proof?" I pressed her to my bosom. There was a divinely% quizzical light in her eyes. "Won t you?" she asked. " No, precious." " Won t you forget me when you are marking er, rors?" " Oh, I might then, for I cannot think of you in. connection with an error." " What a shrewd tease you are, Philip. You will find, one of these days, that I am but a bundle of errors. Philip," she said, becoming serious, " there is one con dition that we must guard against. We must not permit our lives to become commonplace. The evi dence of the cynics may be against me, but I do not believe that true love becomes cold and critical. My father and mother have never ceased to love each other devotedly. Marriage with the better class of people in Kentucky is not shaped into a humdrum ex istence, but even among old people we see tender, if not romantic, love." "Luzelle, wise cynics may say what they please they may enumerate divorce suits and write books in contempt of sentiment, but I do not believe that a pure and lofty love can be blotted out. This age prides itself upon its wisdom, and looks upon the vows of lovers as the exchange of foolish and ignorant fancies, but the true man and the true woman, having God- given souls, could live with each other in an eternity of affection. No, our lives shall not become commonplace. 264 A KENTUCKY COLONEL. Loving each other and loving nature, the seasons will bring newness of interest. In the spring we will see the buds open, and in the autumn we will watch the leaves fall. We will let the world struggle with its fears and its ambitions; and, growing old together, we will stand in the light of the sunrise, content in the con templation of the simple duties of the day; and when the sun goes down we will sit in the garden and listen to the whisperings of the evening." " And if trouble should come upon us, Philip, you will find that I can bear it bravely. I have but one cause of uneasiness." 11 What is that, Luzelle ? " " The fear that Boyd Savely may return." " Don t let that worry you." " But I can t help it. I didn t know that a man could be so desperate as he is. He knows one thing, Philip. He knows," she proudly added, " that you are not afraid of him." " The law," I answered, " has something to say of his coming back; but even if he should come, I don t think he would attempt any violence upon me." " I am fearful that he would, Philip. "Well, if he should " " Let us not talk about him," she broke in, " for I am miserable when I think of him miserable in re membering that I had promised to be his wife. But, Philip," she added, putting her arms around my neck, " he must have known that I did not love him, for I did not permit him to " " Kiss you ?" I said, with an uncomfortable recollec- A KENTUCKY COLONEL. 265 tion of HK evening when he stood near her at the piano. " Kiss me !" she repeated with emphasis. " I did not even allow him to hold my hand. Well, for goodness 1 sake, here s brother Henry !" I sprang up, not without a show of awkwardness, and seized Henry by the hand. " You need not explain," said*he. " I have heard all about it. Luzelle, you look as rich as an oil paint ing." He fondly kissed her, and, seating himself, humor ously remarked that he had thought seriously of falling in love with some one, but that the close confinement incident to a life of business kept him from making a suitable selection. " I had thought of Miss Bumpus," said he, " but was reminded that the harsh affairs of the real- estate dealer can only produce an ill coloring when mixed with the romantic vocation of the tragic play wright." " You shall not make fun of Miss Annie," Luzelle declared, pretending to be serious, but smiling in spite of herself. " I have no disposition to make fun of her. On th& contrary, I have the highest regard for her. So able a dramatic writer and so unassuming a person lays a strong hand upon my affections. And I hear that she is an actress of thrilling force; but with regard to this accomplishment I must submit to your judgment, as you have had the pleasure " " Philip, make him hush." " Henry," said I, " you have not congratulated us." 2 66 A KENTUCKY COLONEL. " My seeming unconcern, Phil, should serve as congratulation, but as it does not, let me say that I am greatly tickled. This thing of picking up the right kind of brother-in-law is not an easy matter; so when our sisters please us in this respect we should not only be thankful, but ought to be happy. If you can beg off, Phil, we will take a stroll." " The weather is too bad," Luzelle answered. " What? Has the reign of tender tyranny begun al ready ? " he asked. " Yes, it has begun," she answered. " Then when will it end ? " he exclaimed, arising and imitating the school-boy orator. " Will it be the next week or the next year ? Will it be when the kisses of the honeymoon have rusted in two the log chain of this alliance ? Phil, I sympathize with you. No ? " he added, meeting Luzelle s quick glance. " Well, then, I sympathize with both of you." " Philip, Henry is one of the cynics who cry out against the possibility of a happy marriage." " No, my dear, I have uttered no cry," he replied, resuming his seat and carelessly crossing his legs. * Having never been married, and having paid but lit tle attention to the solemn institution of marriage, I know but little about it. I don t think it would suit me. I am willing to share many pleasures, but I do not want the half of any trouble. A handsome woman who is in love is to the man whom she loves a pleasing sight ; but even the most beautiful woman, standing in a high state of peevish authority, must become tire some to the man who has joyously made himself her A KENTUCKY COLONEL. 26 J slave. If a man loves his wife he has lost his freedom; if he does not love her his home life is a bore." " Henry," she cried, " I won t listen to such talk, for you make me think you are narrow and selfish when I know that you are broad and generous." " Sit down, sister; I was joking. You must know that, with the example of our father and mother con stantly before me, I must be the last man to speak seriously against the noble devotion of the true hus band and the true wife. One of these days I may meet a girl who can make me step right out and dance a jig. You must not pay much attention to me to day, for I am prankish." " What has made you prankish ? " I asked. " Don t know ; get that way sometimes in spite of myself. Where s father s pipe ? Hand it over this way, will you, little girl ? Thank you." He lighted the pipe and for a time sat smoking in silence. After awhile he asked : " Phil, have you seen this month s Venerable East Magazine ? " ""No; mine hasn t come." " I left a copy in mother s room. Go and get it, Luzelle, please." Luzelle brought the magazine, and Henry, taking it, remarked as he began to turfi the leaves: " I saw something in this number that may interest you something with regard to a writer whom we have dis cussed. Here it is." He handed the magazine to me, and pointed out the following: 268 A KENTUCKY COLONEL. " About two years ago the Venerable East began to print verses from a writer who, as the author of the novel, The Moss Side of the Tree, has become famous. Elvis Wigglesworth is now as much talked of as any writer in the country, but the newspapers publish no interviews with him. and no anecdotes (a sort of grass that grows where the wheat of fame has been reaped) are related of him. Having received a large number of letters, making all sorts of inquiries concerning the place of residence, age, habits and personal appearance of Wigglesworth, we wrote to that gentleman, requesting the permission to publish his real name. A reluctant answer granted us that privilege. His name is Henry Osbury, and he lives in Emryville, a village situated in Shellcut County, Kentucky. Judg ing by what we have been able to learn from a literary connection with him, we regard him as a sort of a lazily genial man, who cares nothing for notoriety and who has a deep love for books." 4 Before I could say anything, Luzelle, who, looking over my shoulder, had read the article, exclaimec 1 : " Well, you good-for-nothing thing, why didn t you tell us?" " Henry," said I, as I warmly shook his hand, " of course I am surprised to know that you are Elvis Wig glesworth, but I am not surprised to find that you can write a pleasing poem or an interesting book. From the first moment of our association I have thought that you were capable of doing excellent literary work, but I did not think that you could " " Shake off my indolence," he laughingly suggested. " Well, yes, that s it. The fact is singular, yet nevertheless true, that a great deal of literary work has been done by the most careless and laziest men." " Henry," said Luzelle, " I am just as proud of you as I can be. But you ought to be scolded for keeping us in the dark. " " Oh, no; that was to aid my art, for, to show my magic-lantern pictures to best advantage, it was neces- A KENTUCKY COLONEL. 269 sary to keep you in the dark. Phil, you will try your hand at romances now that the history is completed, won t you? " " No, he shan t," Luzelle answered. " Men who write novels fall in love with their characters, and if Philip writes at all he must confine himself to facts. If he were to write a book with a beautiful woman in i: I would burn it up." " But, suppose," said Henry, " that hia women were all ugly." I wouldn t like that either, for a writer has to pay quite as much attention to an ugly woman as he does to a pretty one. Philip must, as papa declares he shall, take charge of the farm. I don t want him to write a novel and have literary women corresponding with him. Literary women are nearly always sympathy- hunters." " Look here, Luzelle," Henry replied, regarding her seriously, " I didn t know that you could be so jealous. " " I m jealous because I am a woman. I might hide it, as many women do and of course I would in the presence of ladies but just now I want to impress upon Philip s mind the fact that he must give me no cause for jealousy." At the supper table there was great surprise, fol lowed by hearty congratulations, when Henry revealed to his father, mother and uncle the identity of Elvis Wigglesworth. Why, by George, suh! " exclaimed the Colonel, " I am getting proud of the Osbury family. " " Papa," Luzelle rejoined, smiling mischievously at A KENTUCKY COLONEL. me, " I thought you said that the book was not very good and not very bad." " Thought who said so? " the Colonel exclaimed. " Thought you did." " Ain t you mistaken about that? " " I heard you say it, Remington," said Mrs. Osbury. " Well, now here, you are crowding the old man pretty close. Mary, if you say so, I reckon you are right. You are as right in regard to what I said as I was wrong in regard to the book." " Don t let it worry you," Henry said. " There is in the book just enough strength of underpinning to hold up the platform of weakness. It is a pity that in writing we do not know when we are doing weak work. We often mistake smoothness for weakness, and roughness for strength. By the way, when does this marriage take place? " " The 1 5th of April," I answered. " Going to take a sort of wedding jaunt, I suppose. Go as far as Emryville, at least, won t you? " " We are going to New Orleans," Luzelle replied. " Have you written to Fred? " " Yes, anr 1 he says that he will be here." " Henry, I ve been thinkin ," said old Buck, " thai you might wi. te a play. Tell you what you do. You fix up one, and I will take it around the country and make some money. You may say what you please, but Miss Bumpus does first-rate." "Why, then, did you disband your Blue Grass Combination ? " Henry asked. " Oh, well, the main reason was that Luzelle had to A KENTUCKY COLONEL. 271 come away. We d have made money if we had kept on. I knew, as soon as I read that book, that the writer, whoever he was, could fix up a play. " Buck, did you read the book? " the Colonel asked. " Read it! I read it twice. Don t you recolleck I spoke to you about it? " 41 No, I have no such recollection." "Well, I did." * Read it twice, you say?" "That s what I done." " What is it about?" " W y, it s about people." " What are their names? " Oh, I don t exactly remember." The Colonel winked at Henry. That night we were visited by Major Hammonds v Captain Jinny and Miss Annie Bumpus. I was much pleased upon seeing that Hammonds had not brought his riddle, for, several evenings before, when the Colonel and I had visited the Major, he had given us so much of his tune, " Whip the Devil," that, however strongly I may have been in favor of all Christian organizations, I did not care to be present at another threshing of Satan. Hammonds took a seat some distance from the fire-place, and, upon being spoken to by some one, seized his whiskers, " ducked " his head, and then, seeming by accident to have discovered the fire, spat with a loud " pit-too," wiped his mouth, crossed hjs legs with a quick flounce, and said, " Yep, I think so." Jinny s " imperial " was still in a high state of culti vation, and while not looking, with a fat smile, at Miss 272 A KENTUCKY COLONhL. Bumpus, who was giving old Buck the outlines of a projected dramatic work, he sat combing his mustache with a nickel-back comb that opened like a razor. " Henry," I asked in an undertone, " are you going to tell those people that you are Elvis Wigglesworth? ; " No, they have never heard of him." " Miss Bumpus has, I suppose." " No; she hasn t. She has never heard of anything except flash story papers. If I were to tell Hammonds that I have written a book, he would, incident to mak ing inquiries, snatch off his whiskers and spit himself to death. Now pay attention to Jinny. Major," (ad dressing Hammonds), " while in Louisville the other day, I ate some Baltimore oysters." Hammonds " ducked " his head, seized his whiskers, spat in the fire and remarked that the Baltimore oyster was of good flavor, " but," he added, " I don t think it is the best. I " " Eli," said Jinny, " if you were in Norfolk to-night, what would you order? " Hammonds gave a flounce, pulled his whiskers until his lower teeth were visible, and replied: " Well, Joe, I d go down to " " Luzelle," cried the Colonel, "play something no matter what, but play something. Major, Henry is the author of that famous novel, The Moss Side of the Tree. " " You don t say so ! " Hammonds exclaimed. " You have read the book, haven t you, Major? " the Colonel asked. " Well er well, no, I haven t. The fact is, I have A KENTUCKY COLONEL. 273 been so busy lately that I haven t had time to read any thing." " What is that?" said Miss Bumpus. " Who is it that has written a book?" " My son Henry," the Colonel answered. " Oh, you don t say so!" exclaimed the author of "The Baron s Daughter; or, The Whispering Duke," " When are you going to have it printed, Mr. Henry? " It has been printed," said Henry, glancing slyly at me and ludicrously drawing down the corners of his mouth. " Oh, you don t say so! Where was it printed?" "In New York." Gracious me!" she exclaimed," I am going to send my book there. Wouldn t you, Captain Jinny?" " B lieve I would," the Captain replied, opening his razor-like comb and raking his mustache. " Henry," said the Colonel, " didn t you find the publishers to be wolves > suh?" " No; for, upon the contrary, they have treated me very generously." " But didn t they haggle and try to belittle your manuscript?" " No; the truth is they accepted it at once and wrote me a very kind letter." " Well, they ll get my book, sure," said Miss Bumpus. " I think that such kindness of heart should be rewarded." Luzelle, who had seated herself at the piano, asked her father if she should play. " No," said the old gentleman, " not now." 274 A KENTUCKY COLONEL. Later, when Henry had spoken again of the oysters which he had eaten in Louisville, the Colonel, observing that Hammonds had begun to "duck" his head, declared he must have music, but a quick change of subject again released Luzelle. Yes, those were days of sweet enchantment. The harsh winds of March sank into the gentle sighings of April. The proof-sheets had been read and returned to the printers. Luzelle and her mother had brought bundles of goods into the house, and I frequently over heard conversations relative to seams and gores; and once when the Colonel tore off a strip of newspaper to light his pipe, Mrs. Osbury exclaimed: " Mercy on us, the man has ruined the pattern!" One evening Luzelle and I sat on a bench under the lilac bushes. Each bud seemed to have a tender senti ment wrapped up in its unfolding breast. " Luzelle, do you realize that you are to be married to-morrow?" "Yes." "And do you feel " " I do not feel anything, Philip, except that I love you. You do not believe that if a man loves his wife he loses his freedom, do you?" " No, that is merely one of Henry s sayings. To me, Luzelle, without loving you and being loved by you, there would be no freedom, no sunshine." " And you do not believe that our romance I can think of no other term which is so bright a flower A KENTUCKY COLONEL, 275 now, will one day be dead, pressed between the leaves of an almost forgotten book?" " No, precious." " I do not believe that you will ever grow weary of me," she said, " but sometimes, remembering the many things that I have read, I become low-spirited. What a beautiful evening this is. See, the blue-birds are building their nests." CHAPTER XX. AN EARLY ARRIVAL. A RAY of sunlight awoke me the next morning, arid I lay musing over the fierce, the wild and the gentle experiences that had, in their turn, come to me since the first night I had slept in that bed. I thought of the morning when I had first seen the sunbeams falling in at that window; how I had, after a strong call upon pride, resolved to go down-stairs a firmer man than I had been upon ascending to my room, and how, upon seeing Luzelle again, my resolution had suddenly unfolded a pair of hidden wings and sailed away. I thought of the man who in. the hotel had said that a mere reaching forth of the hand might change the course of a life; I thought of the detective, of Lark Moss, of the terrible fight in Emryville, and of the dreadful storm that had roared along the turnpike as an awful companion of my wild flight. I thought of the tempest s subsiding growl as it rolled back into the ravine near the spout spring. I thought of all this, and then with a thrill I thought: " And this is to be our wedding day." When I went down-stairs I found Luzelle standing on the gallery, looking far away over the clover- fields. She turned, and, seeing me, advanced, holding out her hands. " Philip," she said, when I had kissed her, " there are 276 A KENTUCKY COLONEL. 27; no dead vines to be brushed away now. See, the morning-glories are about to bloom." I knew that she was thinking of the morning when we had stood on the gallery, watching the flashes of light chase away the deepening purple; when she had brushed away the dead vines, and had seemed, as she stood there wrapped in a cream-colored shawl, to be less ethereal, but more lovely, because more of a woman than I had hitherto regarded her. " You forget nothing, Luzelle." " No," she answered, " for the memory of the past is one of the sweets of the present. Did you know that brother Henry had come? " " What, so early? " " Yes, and he walked. Just think of it walked on the very occasion when he should have taken care of his appearance. I have never known him to walk before. Now he looks as if he had been out hunting. He s soiled with dew oh, he looks provokingly bad. Yonder he is, playing with the dogs. Look at them putting their dirty feet on him. I am almost angry at him. I asked him why he hadn t brought another suit of clothes, and he said that he thought the suit he had on would last him until he got back to town." I hastened to greet my friend; and, as my attention had been so directed, paid particular attention to his clothes. I must say, too (though this may have been a mere fancy), that he had paid less attention than usual to his personal appearance. " Ha, you didn t expect to see me so soon, did you? " A KENTUCKY COLONEL. " No. The fine morning tempted you, I suppose." " Tempted me after I was awake, but did not awake me. I was awakened by the screaking of the windlass of the town well in the public square. What is more dreary than the early morning screak of the ungreased windlass of the public well? You hear the bang of a door on the opposite side of the square, and if you listen closely, you may hear the unsteady footsteps of some fellow who has started out in the evening with spirited horse talk, who has ushered in midnight with a profane declaration that he can whip any man who is not his friend, and who, penniless and feverish, greets the morning with a hot hiccough. Then the windlass screaks. How slowly the bucket must seem to come up - " You appear to speak from experience." " Well, I ve been an all-night miscreant several times in my life, but have forsworn the early door that shuts with an unfriendly bang. No longer do I arouse a red- eyed man of spotless shirt-bosom, who dozes behind the bar, and ask him to make an eye-opening cocktail. No, my boy, I m the enemy of strong drink; and who is so uncompromising an enemy of the accursed stuff as the man who has sung over it? You don t drink, do you?" " I have sung over it for the last time," I replied. " Well, as I was saying, the windlass awoke me, and, unable to sleep again, I went out for a stroll. While strolling I followed a trail of musing that led me so close to home that I decided not to turn back, but to A KENTUCKY COLONEL. 279 come on to the wedding. Luzelle is calling us. Break fast is ready, I suppose?" " Henry," said the Colonel, when we had all seated ourselves at the table, " have they finished shucking the corn?" " Who? I don t know what you mean." " Why, judging from your appearance this morn-* ing, I didn t know but you had been to a corn-shuck ing." " Remington," Mrs. Osbury interposed, " don t twit h im. " Let him go, mother; let him go," Henry, in his unruffled way, replied. " You ll be proud of my fine appearance by the time the articles of agreement are all arranged. I ve got a wedding garment somewhere up-stairs a black coat that I left here summer be fore last, I believe." " Gracious me, child," said Mrs. Osbury, " the moths have eaten it up long ago." " Now, here, I am not responsible for what the moths have done," he answered. " I can t devote very much of my time to thinking about moths. I knew that I was coming to a wedding, and I naturally supposed that my garment was here, but if the moths have feasted on it, why, the responsibility be upon them and their children." " Seems to me," Uncle Buck remarked, " that a man that s got rich off of a book can afford to buy him a coat whenever he wants it." " Yes, a man can when he is made rich by the sale of a book." 280 A KEF-TUCKY COLONEL " You don t mea^ to say that you haven t made money?" "Very little." * "What!" the Colonel exclaimed. "You haven t made money? After all the newspaper talk and all the fuss generally, you have made no money? " " Oh, I have made some, but even a successful book brings to the author more notoriety than money. And the notoriety is scattered it is only among a certain class of people. The people in Emryville don t know anything about my book. A member of the literary society there congratulated me. I was gratified until I learned that he thought I had drawn a lottery prize. Wonder why Fred didn t come?" " Fell in love with some old lady on the way and stopped to woo her," the Colonel replied. " Remington," said Mrs. Osbury, " you must not speak so of the child." " We!5, Mary, I don t know, you understand, but merely suppose so." " I have engaged music for this occasion," Henry remarked. " Music! " Luzelle exclaimed. " We don t want any Tiusic we won t have any, will we, Philip? We want his to be the most quiet and informal marriage that vas ever known in this neighborhood." " I didn t know that, sister, or I should not have made arrangements contrary to such an intention. I saw Hammonds yesterday and told him to bring his iddle with him, and that Uncle Buck with his flute " " I ll be snatched if I m going to be made fun of this A KENTUCKY COLONEL. 2 8l way," Buck exclaimed. " Here I ve been workin like a nigger that other people might enjoy themselves, and well, I won t stand it, Remington; I swear I won t. Toilin like a slave while other people air sittin back in their offices livin on the fat of the land. " " Wait," said Henry, " you didn t let me finish. I told him that you with your flute would be an addition to any orchestra, but that you played only for your own delectation." " You didn t tell him no such of a thing, suh, and you know it," Buck roared. " Well," said the Colonel, " let it all go; all go. Buck, you are getting to be as touchous as a stone- bruise." " Yes; but, Remington, I don t want anybody to be all the time punchin me. If Hammonds brings that fiddle here, I ll be zounds if I don t break it, or have a mighty rassle with him. " The ceremony was to be performed at two o clock in the afternoon, and immediately after dinner the" happy couple " as the newspapers say were to set out for Emryville to " catch " another journalist s expression the four o clock train. We had all agreed to em ploy ourselves, during the morning, in our usual way, drawing about us none of the solemnities and embar rassments of an approaching marriage. Mrs. Osbury, to whom we were compelled to grant a mother s privi lege, would occasionally indulge the luxury of a dis tressing sigh, but the Colonel was more than usually cheerful, Henry was prankish, and Luzelle was as bright as the beantiful morning. Uacle Buck seemed to be 282 A KENTUCKY COLONEL. impatient, and, at quite an early hour, began to "fidget" around and take, from the gallery door, occasional peeps at the clock. I afterward learned that he was extremely proud of the figure he presented upon any extra occasion, and that his anxious glances at the clock were prompted by a fear that he might not have time enough to dress himself properly. The old man fought, during two hours, his keen anxiety, and then went up-stairs. About an hour later he came down, arrayed, as Henry expressed it, in his fierce regi mentals. He wore white linen pantaloons, with traces of mildew about the knees, a satin " wescut " with gourd- shaped figures; yellow gloves, a bronze-colored cravat, and a blue cloth coat, with brass buttons, woefully pigeon-tailed. When he came out on the gallery where the rest of the family sat, Henry, looking up in well put-on surprise, said: " Why, Uncle Buck, you are not going to leave us at such a time as this, are you? " " Leave! What do you mean? " " There are plenty of days when you can drill." " What the deuce do you mean, Henry? " " Why, haven t you rigged yourself up for a military parade?" The old man snorted like a horse. " Military pa rade!" he roared. " I ll be eternally blowed if I am going to stand this persecution much longer. There was a time and you know the time, Remington when a gentleman could dress himself in a respectable way without being sneered at; but now, if he tries to look decent, a howl is raised. This infernal age is not A KENTUCKY COLONEL. 283 satisfied with grinding a gentleman down till he has to work like a nigger from mornin* till night, but wants him to dress like a nigger." He sat down with a violence that jarred the gallery, and, looking at Henry, slowly winked his eyes and shook his head like an old-time negro when compelled to do something against his will. " I didn t mean anything, Uncle Buck." " No, of course not. Young men never mean any thing these days. When I was of your age but it s not worth while to talk to you, for you don t profit by example." " Henry," Mrs. Osbury sighingly said, " don t worry him." " I don t mean to worry him, mother. He hasn t got a better friend in the world than I am. I ve got a very old meerschaum pipe in my office man gave it to me the other day and I intended to bring it down to Uncle Buck, but forgot it." " I wish to gracious you had fetched it, Henry! " the old man exclaimed. " You may talk about cobs and clays, but the meerschaum fits me. Had one once that must have cost fifty dollars. Tom Marshall gave it to me. Yes, suh, bring that pipe down the next time you come. ^ You know what I m going to have? I m going to have the earliest tomattuses in the neighbor hood, and I m going to give you the first one that gets ripe. " Henry did not doubt that Uncle Buck would have the earliest tomatoes, but he did doubt that the old man would part with them. The production of early 284 A KENTUCKY COLONEL. tomatoes was one of Buck s specialties. He sometimes had slips ready to set out before any one else had planted seeds, but his enterprise was not followed by generosity, for not until the crop became abundant would he permit any one to enjoy the fruits of his well, I suppose industry is the word. When any one approached the vines about the time the first tomatoes were ripening, Old Buck was sure to be near; and when the ripening came the old fellow would pick oft the tomatoes, carry them triumphantly to the house, slice them with a knife that he had carefully sharpened, tenderly place the slices on a dish, and then place the dish at his own plate. No one dared to ask for a slice. Once a boy, the son of a visitor, called out at table that he wanted some tomatoes. Old Buck dropped his knife and fork, gazed at the boy as if by his awful look he could strike the little fellow dead, angrily shoved the dish toward him with a command to " take em all," arose with a sigh of despair, went out, and did not for more than two days speak to any member of the family. " I ll remember your kind offer, Uncle Buck." The old man winced, but said: " All right. You bring that pipe with you, and you ll find me on hand." " Philip," said Luzelle, " let us walk in the garden before any of the guests come." We sat on the bench under the lilac bushes. A humming-bird shook the dew from an early rose, and a cat-bird sang in the top of the pear tree. Nature had just come from a perfumed bath. " 1 have worn the cream-colored shawl, you see," A KENTUCKY COLONEL. 285 she said, looking up with a smile so pathetically sweet that a mist came down and hung before my eyes. " Yes," I answered, " and it brings up the picture of the morning when you brushed away the dead vines. I did not know then that you could be so gentle, Luzelle." She smiled again, and that indescribable light which seems to be reflected by the mind s sudden imagery shone in her eyes. " Nothing can be fiercer than a young deer that is enraged," she said, " and yet what can be gentler or more loving than the same fawn. Gentleness is passion that has sunk into a dreamy sleep." " Yes, for the most passionate people are often the gentlest. We are all governed by emotion, and I sometimes think that the soul is emotion. Take the men who we say have small souls; we find they have but little emotion. -The unemotional man may be just, but I doubt if he can be generous." " When I awoke in the night, Philip, I thought of something you said yesterday evening that loving each other and loving nature do you remember?" "Yes." " And I thought," she continued, " that a man and a woman who do not love nature cannot love each other. I am so thankful ?-" I pressed her to my bosom; and never on the face of the earth was the great Creator of all life worshiped more devotedly than He was at that moment. When we returned to the gallery we found that Miss Annie Bumpus had arrived. 2 86 A KENTUCKY COLONEL. " I came early, because I thought I might be of some service," she said. " Oh, how serious marriage is> Oh, it s almost dreadful when you come to think of it!" " It is dreadful to think of marrying some one you do not love," Luzelle answered. " This I know from experience, and, although we may, in an unguarded moment, have promised to marry some one we do not love, yet I don t think, when the time comes, the true woman could marry a man who has not completely won her heart." " Oh, Luzelle, you are so peculiar, I m sure," Miss Bumpus replied. " I never did understand you. So different from all the other girls I ever knew. But, to me " here she sighed deeply " marriage is awful to contemplate, even when it is arrayed in its most spot less garments. Who s got a pencil anybody? Thank you, Mr. Henry. Now, give me a piece of paper, please." A piece of paper was given her, and, placing it on the railing of the " banisters," she began to write, mumbling " spotless garments" about the time she finished the performance. " Us writers, Mr. Henry, as you doubtless know, as you are developing into quite an author, must not let our good things escape us. When we open the. cage we do not know how many of our birds are likely to fly away. Let me have that pencil again, please. Oh, yes," she said, when she had again written, " marriage is serious to contemplate, but surely no one would think so by being here at present." A KENTUCKY COLONEL. 287 " And no one should think so," replied the Colonel, not a little vexed, " for the conditions of this marriage are most happy. My household will not in the least be disturbed. I retain my daughter, and gain a son that any man might be proud of, suh." When the Colonel became emphatic he always said " suh," regardless of sex. " Oh, yes, I suppose this marriage is different, but well, I suppose I am a little peculiar. I don t believe I could go through the ordeal. I really do not believe I could." " Captain Jinny will surely be over, will he not ? " Henry asked. Miss Bumpus blushed, dropped her fan and said: " Oh, I don t know, I am sure, but I suppose so. I have heard several people say that they were coming regardless of invitations. But, of course, he was in vited." The guests began to arrive. The ladies, several of whom I had never seen before, and two or three whom I remembered as having been members of the " Blue- Grass Combination," were shown into the parlor. Some ofthem, those who were well acquainted with the family, busied themselves with running up and down stairs, carrying pins in their mouths and bundles in their hands. Eleventh-hour suggestions were made; excla mations of " Well, I declare ! " were heard throughout the house. An old lady slapped a boy heels overhead for kicking off his shoe into a bucket of water; another boy in kilts dropped a piece of bread, blackberry- jammed side down, on the floor, and was imme- 2 88 A KENTUCKY COLONEL. diately snatched off the face of the earth by his mother. Horses neighed, and the grating sound of the turning buggy was heard. Another woman ran up-stairs with her mouth full of pins; children " bawled," and a large dog came up on the gallery where the men sat, scratched himself and bumped the floor with his "elbow." Hammonds and Jinny came, and Henry began at once to talk about something to eat. Hammonds seized his whiskers, spat over into the yard and was wiping his mouth when Jinny cried out, as if surprised by a sudden recollection: " Eli, if " Here the Colonel stormed at the dog, and began to talk loudly of what he intended to plant in different fields the next year, and, seeking an opportunity to speak to Henry, the old gentleman said: " For the love of the Lord, Henry, don t get these fellows started. Why, bless me, here is Major Patter son!" The Major was delighted to see me, and shook my hand until the " tobacco spit " oozed from the corners tf his mouth. " My dear boy," said he, "how are you anyhow? Been lookin for you to come up to see us, but I reckon you have been mighty busy. How are you anyhow? Why, suh, I met a feller the other day that thought he could run over old Tobias. Yes, suh, he came to my hotel and found fault with my wife s cof fee she would have come with me to-day, but she s sorter got the rheumatiz. Yes, suh; said her coffee A KENTUCKY COLONEL. 289 my .wife s coffee, you understand wa n t nuthin but dish-water, an if thar s anything in this world my wife prides herself on it is her coffee. Why, she never boils the grounds more than twice. Wall, I sorter argued with him he didn t know me and lo and behold, the fust thing I knowed he had done called old Tobias a liar, and, bless your soul, I upped with an old yeller dish that would weigh about five pounds, and smashed it over his infernal head. How are you anyhow? " Soon after this the officiating minister, old Brother Gaines, arrived. He sighed deeply when I was intro duced to him, and said, in a roundabout way, that I must not think that the world would always be so bright. Having great reverence for him, I assured him that I would not, whereupon, much relieved, he sighed and took an enormous chew of tobacco that made his cheek bulge out on one side like a wen. " All the children of men are disappointed sooner or later," said Mr. Gaines, " and it behooves us to be prepared. In this regard the high-born and low are alike." " How are you getting along with your church- work? " some one asked. " Slowly, slowly; but the warfare goes on," he an swered. " We have had five conversions, and have repaired one church this season, but, if weak in action, we are strong in hope." Then followed a " family history " conversation. They all knew, by intuition, I thought for who could possess so accurate a memory? what had be come of every person of " note " that had ever lived 19 2QO KENTUCKY COLONEL. in Kentucky; and often the most obscure man was traced back to the Dudleys or Howards or Warringtons. Mrs. Osbury appeared at the door and beckoned to Henry. I was sitting near, and when he came up I heard her say: " My son, don t you tantalize Brother Gaines. Do you understand? " " I m not going to do anything to him, mother. If he wants to caper I ll caper with him, but " " You know what I mean. I don t want you to make fun of him." " I won t. By the way, how long before dinner? I am as hungry as a wolf." " We won t eat dinner until after the ceremony." " How long before the ceremony? " " Not but a few minutes." " Wish you would call time on it now, for I can t wait much longer." A few moments later Miss Annie Bumpus called me. Everybody went into the parlor, while Miss Annie talked to me in the hall. I did not know what she said I did not know anything except that I was to meet Luzelle at the foot of the stairway. Perhaps I can do no better than to give an extract from the county paper: " The bride was arrayed in a charming dress of white organdy, and was, as every one said, perfectly lovely. The bridegroom was dressed in the regulation way, and was, as every one agreed, a fine specimen of man hood. The contracting parties walked from the hall into the handsome parlor of the grand old house, where were seated many friends. The Rev. Mr. Gaines performed the ceremony in his most impressive manner. Col. and Mrs. Osbury have the thanks of the editor for a choice cake and a bottle of excellent blackberry wine. " A KENTUCKY COL ON EL. 2 9 1 I can scarcely remember any part of the ceremony. I looked at the preacher and thought how fortunate it was that he had thrown out his tobacco, and then, con demning myself for so criminal a lack of solemnity, looked down; but through it all there was a nervous gladness. Luzelle s hand trembled. She was my wife. Then I shook hands with people whose hands I had never shaken hefore, and whose hands I shall doubtless never shake again. There appears to be a set of wed ding hands that reach out from the corners of non- acquaintance and which soon disappear, never to be grasped again. The dinner was easy and informal, but I could not taste anything. I scalded my mouth with coffee, thinking that I was drinking milk. Many jokes were told, and there was great laughter, and I joined in, yet I heard none of the jokes. I think that I heard Jinny say something about Norfolk, and just at this time I believe that I heard the Colonel laugh uproariously at some remark which Major Patterson had made. Some body said that it was time to go if we wanted to leave on the four o clock train for Louisville. The carriage was ready. Mrs. Osbury and Luzelle were in tears. We drove away. " How strange it all is," said Luzelle. " How tremblingly happy I am. Are you happy, Philip? " " Yes; so perfectly and so strangely happy that I dare not attempt to express it. " Those were sweet, enchanted days. CHAPTER XXI. SETTLING DOWN. WE returned after an absence of four weeks, when the season was in its mood of richest decoration. The long, drooping blue-grass covered the " worm-rail " of the fence, and the " jimson " weed, back of the stable, was in bloom. Fred had come home had arrived the day after the wedding. His face bore no mark of sorrow, and in his eyes there were no traces of that melancholy stare into miserable vacancy, that misery- proclaiming gaze prompted by a breaking heart. With him, despair was ever " dove-tailed into hope." " Oh, t am so thankful to have you all back again," said Mrs. Osbury when we had sat down to supper. We had spent several hours in a sort of chaotic con versation made up of exclamations that sort of con versation during which nothing is finished, and when one remark is sure to break into another. " Yes," the Colonel answered, " everything is all right. Buck, you ll have tomatoes pretty soon, won t you?" " Y y yes, a few. Don t appear to be doin very well." " I thought they did. The green ones look remark ably fine." A KENTUCKY COLONEL. 293 " Remington," said Mrs. Osbury, " don t worry him." " Why, I m not worrying him. Merely asking after his crop. Always interested in a man s prosperity, you know. Phil, to-morrow morning you may take formal possession of the farm, and I want you to run it exactly to suit yourself." " And am I to take possession of the household?" Luzelle asked. Mrs. Osbury moved uneasily. " No, not yet," she said. " You are very young, my daughter, and I m not very old." The Colonel laughed. " I tell you what," said he; " you are asking a queen to give up her throne when you ask a Kentucky wife to surrender her keys. " " Well, Remington, you know I m not too old to take care of the house." " Of course not." "I was merely joking, mother," said Luzelle. "1 would rather be under your authority than to be mis tress of the finest house in the country." " Giving up and folding my hands, Luzelle," Mrs. Osbury replied, " is something I could not think of. Fred, what are you going to do work orithe farm? " " Well, some, I reckon, "he answered. " But as long as there are plenty of hands to do the work, I don t see that it is necessary." " So you like the looks of the book, Phil? " said the Colonel. " Very much." " It s beautiful, I think. I sent copies to the list of 294 A KENTUCKY COLONEL. papers you gave me, and have received several papers containing notices, I reckon, but I haven t opened them. Going to keep them, you know, until we get enough for a regular love-feast. Well, suh, those in fernal newsdealers and booksellers in Louisville don t want to handle it. I called on them, and they told me they got all the books they wanted from head quarters, whatever they may mean by that; but I suc ceeded in persuading a number of them. You say you like New Orleans? " " It is a quaint and interesting city." " I don t care much for it," he rejoined. " I am used to hearing negroes talk English, and, suh, when they begin to jabber in French, why, that settles it with me. Don t want to live in a town where the negroes can t talk as they should. " " Out in some of the plr.ces where I ve been," Fred remarked, " they talk Spanish." " Well, I don t want any of them to come talking Spanish to me," said the Colonel. " English is good enough for me. It was good enough for old Andrew Jackson and the men who planted this government, suh, and I don t believe in scattering foreign jabber among the people." " You let Luzelle study French," Fred struck in. " Well, she didn t get enough to hurt. You never hear her trying to talk it, anyway. Phil, do you think you ll like farming? " " Yes, and I think that I am fitted for it." " Like to see things grow, eh?" 4 * Yes, sir." A KENTUCKY COLONEL. 295 " Then farming is your strong holt." Luzelle and I sat on the bench under the lilacs. Evening s insects had begun their hum. A quail sat on the fence and called her mate ; a toad hopped down the path. " Philip, you could never be untrue to me, could you? " " Never, Luzelle." " No matter what your former life has been," she said, " you " " Did I not tell you, dear, that I have never loved any one else? " " Oh, yes, but men men " " Well. " " Philip, my life has been absolutely pure and " " I know that, Luzelle. " " Wait, and let me finish. Let me put it differently let me be less personal. A woman s life has been pure. She marries a man who has looked upon the corrupting side of life. She knows, being a sensible woman, that his life has not been free from a contami nating touch, but when she marries him, she expects him, demands of him to be, thenceforth, just as pure as she is." " Luzelle, no power on earth could draw me away from you." " There now," she said, putting her arms around my neck, " let us not talk this way again. My reading, Philip, has not exactly made me suspicious, but perhaps has given me an insight into something that should have remained hidden." 296 A KENTUCKY COLONEL. " Your reading has not hurt you, Luzelle. Mysteries are often harmful where knowledge is productive of good." " I suppose so; but, Philip, if you were to be untrue to me, even in thought, I believe that something awful would happen to you, for I love you so truly, so devotedly, that " " Don t think of such a possibility, Luzelle, for my devotion could permit of no infidelity even in thought. " The next day I took charge of the farm. Gap came to me with many congratulatory motions, and declared that he was delighted. " The Colonel ain t had much time ter ten ter things," said he, " an it peared like ever body done putty much ez they pleased. I don t like ter see things go on thater way. I d much ruther work fur wages than a part of the crap an an I did low that lam wuth mo n I m gettin. Me an you ken git along all right. Yes, I fou t that mob, but I ain t goin ter say nothin about that. Kaint you gimme jest a leetle mo* wages, Mr. Burwood ? " I was determined to be just to the Colonel rather than indiscreetly generous to Mr. Gap. " When you earn more money you shall have it," I answered, " but unless you improve I don t want you at all." " Wouldn t turn a man outen house an home, would you?" II Yes, unless he does his duty." " Dat s de way ter talk," said Isom, coming into the barn where Gap and I were standing. " Dat s de way A KENTUCKY COLONEL. 297 fur ter gib out de psalm fur ter be sung. I likes er boss dat turns on de screws. I doan wanter see no trifleness bout me, I ken tell you dat. When I fust made up my mine dat you wuz gwine marry Miss Luzelle I says ter Aunt Silvy, I did: Silvy, s l, dat white man gwine make things walk de chalk line sho s you bawn. Dat s whut I lowed, dem ver words. I ain t gwine ter ax fur no mo wages, but is gwine ter work like a whitehead, an I low datfo long you gwine call me. You gwine say: Isom! Yas, sah, s l. Tse noticed fur some time dat you se been doin yo work powerful well. Yas, sah, s l. You does mo work den any two men on de place, an yere, jes hoi my hat till I raise yo wages right now on de book. Wall, I got ter go now an turn ober some dirt." " Brother Phil," Fred remarked, meeting me as I turned away, " I am half a mind to go to work on the farm. I believe I can go out there and make those fellers hump themselves. What do you say? " " Go ahead." " Hanged if I don t do it. I ve been foolin round long enough. Oh, I ain t afraid of work. There is one thing, though; I don t want my colt to do any work." " Is he any better than you are, Fred?" " Well, not exactly that, but I couldn t bear to see him pullin a plow. I shouldn t think you would either after he galloped you away from danger. " " We don t need him, Fred." " All right, but I m goin to get down to it. To morrow morning, bright and early, you ll see me out 298 A KENTUCKY COLONEL. there plowin . Boyd Savely used to work. Nothin* lazy about him. Wonder where he is." "No telling." " Wonder if he d raise a row if he was to come back?" " I don t know." " Well, it wouldn t do him any good, if he did. Which way you goin ? " " Over to the left-hand field. " " What are you goin to plant there?" "Corn." " That s good fine land as you ever saw. What are you goin to. do with the old orchard? " " Trim it up and cut down the briars. It is good for many years yet." " When I saw the men grubbing around there just now I was afraid you were goin to plow it up. I wouldn t like to see that grass destroyed. Some of the happiest moments of my life was when Luzelle and I used to go there early in the mornin and hunt for horse-apples in the dew." Several days later, while I was standing near the corn-crib, Uncle Buck came out from his flute rehearsal. " Phil," said he, " I see you air gettin everything down to a fine point." " Yes, everything is working very smoothly." " Fred is humpin himself. I didn t know the boy had that much stir to him. I tell you what s a fack, that young co n over next to the woods needs hoein powerful bad." A KENTUCKY COLONEL. 299 " I noticed it, and shall have it attended to as soon as the hoe hands finish replanting." " I ll tell you what I thought, Phil: I thought I d pitch into it to-morrow mornin . I jest nachully can t bear to see anything sufferin for work. I ll go in there in the mornin , suh, an make things fairly hum." " All right, Uncle Buck, help yourself. " " Oh, I ll do it; as shore as you re born, I will. When I set my head, something s got to happen." He turned away, and the energy imparted by hia determination was reflected in his increased briskness of movement. The next morning he got up before daylight and began to " fuss about " and grumble because breakfast was not ready. "What s the matter, Buck?" the Colonel asked, coming out into the hall, where the old fellow was parading his vexation. " What s the matter! " he exclaimed, staring in aston ishment at the Colonel. " My gracious alive, the grass and weeds air chokin the life outen that co n, an you stand there and ask me what s the matter! Here I ve been up two hours and can t git a bite to eat. Every body sleepin jest like there wa n t no work to be done. It s a shame, Phil. How do they expect us to make a crop when they won t give us anything to eat. How do they expect me to hoe that co n " " Do what! " the Colonel exclaimed, slyly winking at me. " Hoe that co n. That s what I said." " And is that why you got up so early?" "Of course it is." 300 A KENTUCKY COLONEL. " I didn t know," said the Colonel, " but that you got up to go down to the bluff thought that you wanted an early start, you know." " Down to the bluff! What in the deuce do I want to go down there for, Remington?" " I didn t know but you had taken another notion to jump off." " Oh, you be blowed now, Remington. Confound the luck, a man can t do anything without you makin fun of him; never saw the like in my life. Enough to make a man butt his head against the wall. " " Remington," Mrs. Osbury called. "Well." " Let him alone, now." " I m not doing anything." " Come on in, then, and let him alone. But before you come I wish you d step out and see if I forgot to lock the smoke-house last night." " If you forgot to lock it last night what difference does it make now?" " Well, never mind, then. Wish you d look out and see if the dominecker hen roosted in the locust tree." " Why do you want to know that?" " Because I couldn t drive her into the hen-house yesterday evening, and if she ain t in the locust tree something must have caught her." Immediately after breakfast Uncle Buck shouldered a hoe and marched out to the field. He wore a broad brim straw hat and a pair of " brogan " shoes. He yelled to the plow-hands, telling them to " hurry up." and shouted fragments of instruction to the negro A KENTUCKY COLONEL. women who were replanting corn. The day was hot with an intensity that promised rain, and the air was so still that the leaves on the morning-glory vines were motionless. I went over to the field about eleven o clock, but did not see Uncle Buck as I approached. He had hoed two short rows and had chopped down a bunch of weeds that grew near an old stump. I strolled into the woods, and there, under a tree, sat the old man fast asleep. His hat lay on the ground beside him, and he had leaned his hoe against a tree. I approached softly, took the hoe, and hid it in a hollow log. Then I went further into the woods, and, pre tending to call a dog, awoke the old man. " How are you getting along, Uncle Buck? " I asked, approaching him. He was standing under the tree, fanning himself with his hat. " Fust-rate, Phil; fust-rate." " Pretty warm over there in the field, isn t it? " " Mighty hot, I tell you, but I ll soon get used to ft. I stepped over here just now to cool off a little. I tell you what s a fack, young men these days don t know what work is. Has the dinner-horn bio wed yet? " he asked, glancing at the sun. "Not yet." " Well, it s time, I can tell you that. What the deuce became of my hoe?" " Did you bring a hoe with you?" " Now, Phil, that s mean. Bring a hoe with me) Why, blame my skin, I have been workin fit to kiU myself. What the mischief became of that hos? ** 302 A KENTUCKY COLONEL. " Is this it?" I asked, stepping up to the log and taking the hoe out. " That s all right now, Phil. You can t come any of your tricks on me. I saw you put it in there. You thought I was asleep, but I was never wider awake. I was sittin there thinkin about that co n. Wall, I reckon dinner will be ready by the time we get to the house." While we were crossing the field the old man said: " Phil, I am goin up to town to-morrow, and the next day I ll pitch in and finish that co n. You d better let me have about five dollars, I reckon." " All right; when we get to the house." " But don t say anything to Remington about it. He don t believe wall, he don t understand me, that s all; he jest nachully don t understand me." We had received quite a number of newspapers con taining " reviews " of the history, and following the Colonel s instructions, I had put the papers aside had, as he expressed it, " saved them up for a love feast." " Phil," the old gentleman remarked, one morning, M get out your papers, and we ll read them. I have been mightily tempted to read some of the reviews, but I held myself back. Now, suh, we ll go in and enjoy ourselves." The thought that any one could speak harshly of the book had not occurred to the Colonel, and when I hinted that we might expect severe criticism, he replied that the books were sent out as presents, and that no gentle- A KENTUCKY COLONEL 303 man would criticise a present. I *.vd read tke reviews and had divided them into two classes " We don t want anybody in the library," said he. " We want to shut ourselves up* We want to be praised, but we don t want even our most intimate associates to know that we are fond of it." No boy, in the expectation of a fairy story, could have shown more interest than the Colonel exhibited. He sat on the sofa, leaning forward with one hand be hind his ear, as though he were afraid that a syllable might stray off and be lost. " This is the Philadelphia Moon. " " All right; let us have it." I read as follows: " We have received a pretentious volume, entitled The History of Shellcut County"* " Pretentious! Does it say pretentious, Phil ?" " Yes, that s what it says." " Well, now, the book is not pretentious. That fel low is an ungrateful fool. Go ahead." " History of Shellcut County/written by a begad, sah, Kentuckian named Osbury. Why he calls it a history we are unable to discover. It is a collection of poorly written sketches, pretending to be humorous and pathetic, and, together with other faults, many of the anecdotes are moldy with age. The author evi dently prides himself upon the literary work of the preface, and will, no doubt, be surprised to learn that it is a weak and vainglorious performance. We do not know why such a book was written, and we do not see why any one should read it." The Colonel had bounded from the sofa and wa* ^ KENTUCKY COLOtfML, walking up and down the room. I have never seen a completer picture of suppressed rage. Some time elapsed before he could speak. " I wish I had that infernal scoundrel by the throat. Why, the miserable wretch ain t fit to live. Never mind, I ll write him a letter that will raise blisters all over him the contemptible whelp. Read the next one." " This is the Boston Sage." " Go ahead." " We have discovered, by a book which has just reached us, that Shellcut County is the great joke fountain of America " " That isn t bad, Phil. " " At least," I continued to read, the author evi dently thinks so." " I don t do any such of an infernal thing, That fel low s a fool." " He has given us four hundred and fifty pages of dry rot which he calls a history of Shellcut County. It is the poorest work of a frost-bitten humorist. The compositors who put it in type and the men who read the proof have our sympathy." " D d scoundrel! " exclaimed the Colonel, walk ing up and down the room, striking his fists together, " I could whittle on his liver and thank God for the Opportunity. Read the next one, suh." " Here we have the New York Evening Gossip," " Go ahead with it." " We do riot wonder at bloodshed in Kentucky when such books as The History of Shellcut County are A KENTUCKY COLONEL. 305 sprung upon the people of that State; indeed, we would rather commend the shooting of one Osbury, who " " Give me that infernal sheet! " The old man snatched the paper, tore it to pieces, threw it on the floor and stamped on it. " I wish to God, Phil, we hadn t written the infernal thing. Read another one. I am prepared for any thing, now." " This is the New York Universe " " Go ahead." " The History of Shellcut County/ written by Remington Osbury, is one of the most amusing books that has, for many a day, reached our table. It is full of the richest of anecdotes, softened with ^true pathos, and is, throughout, gracefully written. The author has a happy knack of terse expression, and an admirable skill in character-drawing. The book is well worth reading." " By George, suh, there is a sensible man and a true gentleman! "the Colonel delightedly exclaimed. " Read that again." I did so. " That man knows what he is talking about, suh; he s a gentleman. Oh, we re coming out on top. Go ahead." I then read the following from the Chicago Prairie: " t The History of Shellcut County, by Remington Osbury, of Kentucky, is one of the most delightful books we have ever read. The author is a scholar, and is, we can see, a most genial and kind-hearted gentleman, " 20 306 A KENTUCKY COLONEL. " Good! " exclaimed the Colonel. " There s one of nature s noblemen, suh. Phil, by George, we ll write a book every year. I tell you, this country is waking up to the necessity of good, strong American work. We have stuffed ourselves with English books long enough we ve had enough foreign plum-pudding, and what the people need now is the hog and hominy of America. We ll give it to them. We ll write a book every year, suh." There remained not a trace of his anger; he was a joyous and lovable old man. CHAPTER XXII. UNCLE BUCK S PISTOL. AT last I had found the work for which I was best fitted. Every detail of my employment was a pleas ure. Hitherto every undertaking had been beset with anxiety; the fear of failure had turned the edge of pleasure, but now there was no fear, for each day I could see the approaching fulfillment of nature s gener ous promise. The ripening wheat and the heading oats, the young corn and the clover-land overspread with a rich mantle of purplish green each held a sweet pleasure for me. At morning, when the spider- webs, dew-jeweled, caught the image of the sun, and at evening, when bull-bats bellowed in the fading light, Luzelle would come out to the field. Sometimes she would gather wild flowers and decorate me until I must have resembled a barbaric chief; and sometimes at noon she would hitch old Tom to the buggy, and, bringing a luncheon, would drive round into the woods. What picnics of enjoyment! What a bill of fare! One day, while we were eating, Isom came up to the fence, and, standing with his arms resting on the top rail, regarded us with keen interest. " Dat s de way I likes ter see white folks ack," said he. " Yas, it is, Mr. Phil; yas, it is, sah. When white folks spreads er table clof down on de grass an* sets down dater way an eats, w y, it s den time fur me ter 308 A KENTUCKY COLONEL. say dat s de way ter ack. An dat s de way ter cut pound-cake, too in big pieces. Dar ain t nuthin I hates ter see wust den little pieces o cake, caze I argys dat ef a man gwine ter feed de chickens, let him feed de chickens, but ef he gwine ter feed folks, w y, den, let him feed folks. But I ain t no cake-eater, merse f. " " Don t like it, eh?" " Wall, dat derpen s, sah. Ef I knows who makes de cake an has conferdence in de pusson, w y, den I ll eat it, but I haster hab conferdence, sah. Now, dar s Aunt Judy Smif. She makes ez nice-lookin cake ez anybody you ever seed, an she s allus atter me ter eat some o it, but s l, Aunt Judy, you s er ligious lady an all dat, but I ain t got ernuff conferdence in yer ter eat yo cake. Dat s de way I talks ter her. But one time she got me, sah, she did." " How?" I asked. " Wall, it wuz dis way. I wuz ober ter her house one mawnin an she had er cake on de table, cut up in pieces bout like dem ober dar now. Sez she, Isom, won t you hab some dis yere monstrous fine cake? No, lady, s l, ain t I dun tole you dat I se got no conferdence in you an* all dat? Does you want me ter keep peatin myse f ? Den she say, I didn t make dis. Miss Luzelle made it. Gimme, s l, gimme, an , I tell you what, ef dat cake didn t fly." " Come and help yourself, Isom," Luzelle said. He cleared the fence at a bound, and cleared the cloth at a sweep. Then he climbed upon the fence. " So you don t like Aunt Judy s cake," Luzelle re marked. A KENTUCKY COLONEL. 309 " Nome, I ain t got no conferdence in her." " Well, she made the cake you are eating. " " Dat er fack? Wall, mum, Fs done gone too fur now ter stop. Mighty sorry, but I kain t he p it." Uncle Buck did not renew his engagement with the corn. He had gone to town with the five dollars which he had " earned," had met a number of Mexican war veterans, and had, in an almost speechless condition, returned with his pockets turned out. He did not blow his flute the next morning. I saw him leaning against the corn-crib, and I heard him say, " Ah-h-h. Lord!" When he returned to the house the Colonel asked him if he were coming in to breakfast. " No, b lieve not." " Not sick, are you?" "Who the deuce said I was sick!" he exclaimed. Man refuses to gorge himself, and you begin to throw out your insinuations. " " Why, Buck, I haven t " " Yes, you have, Remington. Man, after workin like a dog, can t go away for a few hours rest but you have to insinuate." " I haven t insinuated anything. I merely asked It you were going to eat breakfast." " I understand you, Remington. You can t fool me. You meant that I got full yesterday; that s what you meant; but I want you to understand that I didn t. I met some of my old friends, but I didn t drink anything but lemon lem lem " He wheeled about and struck a trot. Shortly after- 3IO A KENTUCKY COLONEL. ward, when we heard him whooping behind the smoke house, the Colonel remarked: " I know exactly how he feels, and I sympathize with him, but can t help him." Uncle Buck came back. " Phil," said he, " I heard something yesterday that may interest you." " What is it?" " The authorities have agreed to let Boyd Savely come back." " What!" the Colonel exclaimed. " Agreed to let him come back," Buck repeated. " If he wants anything, Phil, why, I ve got a dueling- pistol that " " Buck, "said the Colonel, " for the Lord s sake hush about that dueling-pistol. In the first place, I don t believe you ve got one." " Remington, do you want to insult me?" " No, assuredly not, but where is the pistol? Bring it out let me see it." " No, sun, I won t do it now. " He turned away, and the Colonel, addressing me, said: " He hasn t any pistol. I have heard him talk about it for the last fifteen years, but I have never set eyes on it. Phil, if that fellow comes back and tries to raise a row, the thing for you to do is to get a shot-gun hush! here comes Luzelle." " Philip," she said, " I am going out to the field with you this morning and look for a new picnic place. We will go over to the creek at noon-time and sit under the hornbeam trees." CHAPTER XXIII HAD FOUND A HOME. " WHAT a contrast," I mused one morning as I drove toward town, "between this and one night when I passed along here." Then I was worn out in body and wretched in spirit, hunted by desperate men, and thrilled by every noise. Then the lightning s glare gave me startled glimpses of November s dead and whirling leaves; now the landscape wore a peaceful smile, and the ridge-spurs, over which the thunder had seemed to roll, were now, under their bloom-adornment, wrought, by pleasing fancy, into the decorated graves of great giants that had fallen in a mighty war. The song of the plow-boy and the sweetly-sad notes of the rain-crow mingled, and together floated away on the perfumed air; and the blooded colts in the past ure, with June-lighted mischief in their eyes, threw up their heads, snorted a pretentious defiance, kicked up their heels and scampered over the tufted knoll. I found Henry in his office. He did not hear me as I approached the door, and I stood for a moment look ing at him as he sat writing with a quill. He was smoking vigorously, and his chair was surrounded by half-burnt matches. No room could have been more disorderly. A box of sawdust, containing many a quid of tobacco, thrown there by the village liar, the old man who always predicted rain, and the rakish country 312 A KENTUCKY COLONEL. buck who would not " swap " his " hoss " for " nary hoss in Kentucky, suh," occupied a place in the center of the room. " Good morning." " Why, helloa, Phil!" he exclaimed, springing from his chair. " Come right into the ogre s den. Sit down, old man. Take this chair. That one has a habit of spilling people who don t know the combina tion. How are all the folks? " "All well." " How is your crop? " "Couldn t be better." " Like farming, don t you? " " Yes, especially as I am better fitted for it than for anything else." " Here," shoving a box toward me, "fill up a pipe. I d like farming, too, but well, I believe it requires more judgment than I usually carry about me. Uncle Buck tells me that he has gone to work in earnest." " Yes, he hoed several short rows of corn." " Good. When he was in town some time ago he steered clear of me until rather late. Then he came round and told me that if I would let him have five dollars I need not give him that meerschaum pipe. I had no pipe had been merely joking with him, and told him so. You should have heard him rave. He swore that the whole duty of mankind was to deceive him; but when I gave him five dollars, he smiled blandly, and declared that he had always known I would amount to something, and that in the face of A KENTUCKY COLONEL. 3 I 3 fierce opposition he had stoutly maintained this belief. The old gentleman was rather limber when he went home. He never drinks to excess except when he meets some of his old Mexican war veterans. Is Fred doing anything? " " Yes, he has surprised us all. Works as if he were a hired hand." " In love with anybody at present?" " No. He told me the other day that beauty had lost all charm for him, and that hereafter he should look more to mental qualities." Henry gave a sort of jolting grunt. " He will now look toward the Baron s Daughter/ I suppose." " Miss Bumpus? " "Yes." " No, I think not. She came over the other night, and when she had gone, Fred told me that she made him very tired. " " Humph, the boy must have been cultivating his mind lately." " By the way, Miss Burnpus took occasion to remark that you seek to make fun of her." " Humph; she is penetrating." " She says that you have no sympathy for literary women." " She is wrong. There are some literary women whom I almost worship, but they are women who, instead of lolling about, sighing for sympathy, get down to hard work. I have but little patience with the self-anointed genius who does not recognize the necessity of patient, uncomplaining toil. Sometimes A KENTUCKY COLONEL. a name, hitherto unknown, bursts suddenly into the full bloom of reputation. We marvel, we wag our heads, and, having been disappointed ourselves, cry out against the presumptive prodigy; but could we have peeped through the blinds at midnight, could we have seen the lamp burning into the sunlight of a day that has come too soon and unexpectedly, we should have found the presumptive prodigy, deep in study, lost to all thought of self save the merciless thought of self-criticism. The Baron s Daughter is not that sort of a prodigy. She has ability she has the raw material, but she attempts to weave before she has spun her threads." " What are you writing, Henry?" " I am engaged on another book." " Why don t you shut yourself up somewhere? I should think that people dropping in here would greatly annoy you." " My dear boy, my door is open to my characters. They live here in this town, and they drop in occa sionally to see me. Sometimes a fellow comes in and by a smile or a word pulls me out of a marsh. I thus catch impressions during the day, scratch them down, and at night, when I am alone, smooth them out and tuck them away in their manuscript bed. This is the first time you have been in town since the fight, isn t it?" " Yes, for the scene is not altogether agreeable to me." " It was not altogether agreeable to me when I har angued the mob, after seeing you off. I thought* at A KENTUCKY COLONEL. 315 one time, that I should be torn to pieces. The next day, however, they came round and threw quids of tobacco into the box." " That reminds me that I must go and thank the jailer s wife for the great service she rendered me in throwing the keys down into the corridor. I wrote to her, telling her how grateful I was, but don t know that she received the letter." " I forgot to tell you," said Henry, " that she died of pneumonia a few weeks after that night. Come in. " A tall man, wearing a linen duster, had stepped into the doorway. " Mr. Evans, let me introduce my brother-in-law, Mr. Burwood. Mr. Evans is our sheriff," Henry added when the tall man and I had shaken hands. " I suppose you remember him?" M Yes," I answered. " You recollect, I reckon, when I took you in charge at the mouth of that alley across yonder, Mr. Bur- wood." " I shall never forget that. Have this seat, Mr. Evans?" " No, I ll set right here," he answered, lifting the skirt of his duster and throwing one leg over the corner of the table. " That was a squally time, I tell you; and how you managed to get away without being shot all to pieces is something I don t understand." " Perhaps if he had had sufficient presence of mind to manage at all he should have been shot all to pieces," Henry rejoined. " The recklessness resulting 3 1 6 A KENTUCKY COL ONEL. from an inability to think is doubtless what saved him. " " That may be," Evans answered; " still, on an occa sion of that sort I d much rather have time to think 8. little." " Evans," Henry remarked, " I hear that you gentle men have decided to let Boyd Savely come back." " Why you gentlemen? I ve had nothin to do with it. The court decided to wipe the whole thing out. I couldn t kick, could I? Nobody objected to Mr. Burwood s comin back." " You must remember," I rejoined, "that the part I took was forced upon me. " " Yes, and I reckon Savely thinks it was forced on him, too. There s no use, though, in worryin 1 about his comin back, for he ll behave himself all right unless he gets drunk, and if he does get drunk, why, I reckon the law can take care of him. That was the worst fight this county ever saw, and she has seen tough ones, too, I can tell you. I went through the war, and I have seen a great deal of fightin , but I never saw a gamer feller than young Sam Britsides. It was a mighty pity he was killed." A man leaning from an upper window of the court house yelled: " T. V. Balch, T. V. Balch! " "They are calling that old case," said the sheriff. " I ve got to go over and tell what I know about it. So long, gentlemen." It was court-day again, but how different from one court-day that I had seen! From where we sat we could see groups of farmers gathered on the public square, A KENTUCKY COLONEL. 317 and we could hear the coarse laughter of the saw-mill man who had just told an old joke. An old negro, with a number of shuck horse-collars strung on his arm, passed the door, humming a camp-meeting tune; an old negro woman, with a basket full of glazed ginger-cakes, stood near the court-house door; a Louisville whisky drummer, with his feet high up against an awning-post, sat in front of Major Patter son s tavern; women, carrying baskets of eggs and hanks of yarn, rode past, followed by mule colts that bit at one another. The tavern bell rang for dinner. " Come, let us call on Major Patterson," said Henry. The Major met us under the awning, and with a great show of courtesy conducted us into the house. " Won t you take a little nip before you eat ?" he asked. " No nip," Henry answered. " Wall, it s jest as free as water, boys, if you want it. Here, let me show you my gran son. Come here, Wash " (calling a wild-looking youngster). " Come here, and tell these gentle;;^;? how old you are." " Five, goin on six !" the boy shouted, seizing a chair and slamming it against the wall. "Don t be bad, Wash." "Will if I want to." " If you don t be good I won t let you ride old Jerry to water." " Don t want to ride him. Ho ! " he exclaimed, pointing at me, " bet I could kill you." " Come, let s eat," said the Major " Step this way." ^8 A KENTUCKY COLONEL. The dining-room was well filled with people who had come to attend court. The grand jury filed in, and the commonwealth s attorney, young and airish in the con sciousness that be was attracting attention, sat down and reached up his hair, reaching over from the back of his head as though his bulging brow were an arm s length away. The circuit judge sat at the head of the long table. He wore a sort of poker-hand graveness of expression, and, when tempted to smile at some odd remark, would draw down the corners of his mouth and clear his throat with an echoing hum, hum. Ham monds and Jinny came, and Major Patterson, who had seated himself near Henry and me, leaned over and whispered: " Them two fellers never come here unless I m crowded. I san only count on em when court s in session/ I well remember the conversation that was held during the meal. It arises now above the recollection of rattling dishes and an occasional dog-fight in the hall. Hammonds " Judge, how s the docket? " The Judge (hum, hum) " Pretty full." Jinny * Do you reckon you ll get through with the Balchcase?" The Judge -"I don t know. We can never tell how long a case may last." Major Patterson (speaking to a negro boy) "Drive them devilish dogs out of the hall." Commonwealth s Attorney (reaching over and pulling back, his hair) " My end of the docket is pretty heavy. A KEN-TUCK Y COLONEL. 319 Got about sixty indictments, and the grand jury still at work." Patterson "What air most of the indictments fur?" Commonwealth s Attorney "Oh, first one thing and then another. Socked it to one feller for breaking the Sabbath. " Hammonds (looking up in surprise) "Sabbath- breaking, did you say? " Commonwealth s Attorney " Yes; shot a man on Sunday." Hammonds "Oh, I see." Patterson " Whose brindle dog is that out there? " Foreman of the Grand Jury " Mine." Patterson " Wall, I wush you had either left him at home or improved his disposition befo you brought him. He s wuss than a rattlesnake in August." Foreman " He ain t a lamb." Patterson (to negro boy) " Dave, git some b ilin water and fling on them fetchtaked dogs. Ain t no livin in the house with them." Hammonds " What has Bose Searcy done with that claybank hoss he used to ride?" Jinny " Swapped him off, I heard." Hammonds " Good thing he did. The nocountest horse in the country. Rode him once, and hanged if I wouldn t as soon ride a hominy pestle. Who did he swap with?" The Judge (hum, hum) " He swapped with me." Hammonds " Why, I mean that old yaller hoss." The Judge " Yes, I know; I ve got him." J2O A KENTUCKY COLONEL. Hammonds " I don t mean that big yaller one, I mean the the pony." The Judge " Searcy never owned a yellow pony/ Hammonds (confusedly) " Judge, I I I didn t mean to cast any reflections on your hoss. Saw you riding him to-day, and " The Judge " I didn t ride him to-day." Hammonds " Well, I must get back to work." The Judge cast an angry glance after Hammonds, and I thought, as I looked at the judicial gentleman, that, regardless of his dignity, he was thenceforward to be Hammonds enemy; and I afterward learned from Henry that Hammonds could not have given the Judge a greater affront, and that if Hammonds should ever run for an office the Judge would take a galsome pleasure in opposing him. " It is rather dangerous, while in an assembly of Kentucky gentlemen, to criticise a horse," said Henry, when we had returned to the " real estate office," " for, being a circulating medium, the horse is likely, sooner or later, to belong to some one who is present." " I should suppose," I answered, " that a judge would think more of his dignity than of his horse." " Yes, but Biscomb is not that sort of a judge; he generally has more horse than dignity; he is more pol itician than lawyer, and has a higher regard for his own prejudices than he has for the statutes. He is vain glorious and dissolute, though he has been seen in a devotional attitude kneeling on the floor, looking for a poker chip. While on the bench he frowns down on the drunkard, yet off the bench he is not as sober as A KENTUCKY COLONEL. 321 Sir Roger s footman; indeed, no one would think of trimming a boat with him. We can have no courts of justice until the judge s office ceases to be one of polit ical preferment. By the way, how is father s book selling?" " Very well. He does not expect any sale for it out side of Kentucky, and cannot hope for a large sale in the State. What is the plan of your forthcoming book? " " It is a simple story of country life, with more truth than display, more shady nooks than sun-glare, more lazy lolling than excitement. Of course I have strong hopes for it, but an author s second book, fol lowing one that has been measurably successful, carries more anxiety than his first effort, for, having been taken on probation, the author must prove that his friends were not hasty in their judgment of him; and in order to prove this, his second book must be not only as good as the first, but must be much better. With my first book I had one decided advantage > that of a hidden identity. No matter how obscure a man may be, writing under an assumed name lends him freedom. The bushwhacker takes better aim than the recognized soldier." " Well, it s time for me to go. Can t you come home with me? " " I would like to, but the calloused hand of duty is resting rather heavily upon me at present. I ll come out some day and wallow in the woods with you." When within about a mile of home, I met Luzelle. 322 A KENTUCKY COLONEL. She ran excitedly up to the buggy, and, when I had helped her in, she exclaimed: "Philip, you couldn t guess in a hundred years wh^ is at the house." " If I couldn t guess in that length of time it is hardly advisable to begin." " You haven t kissed me yet, Philip." " Now I have. Who is at the house? " " The woman that Fred married. " What ! " I exclaimed. " You are joking." " No, I am not. She came in a carriage about two hours ago and is waiting to see you before she goes back. Oh, she does look so bad; so pale and thin. She is dying of consumption. Just give me time to get my breath* back and I ll tell }^ou all about it. Ever since she nursed you why didn t you tell us who she was ? I wouldn t have been so jealous if you had she has been nursing in a hospital, trying to atone, she said, for her misspent life. The doctor told her that she couldn t live but a little while, and I could not/ she said, speaking to mother, bear to think of dying without coming here and begging for your forgiveness. Any one not understanding the situation would have thought it was mother who sought forgiveness. She brought a chair for the poor woman and compelled her to sit in it. Then she brought a pillow, and at the sight of such atten tion the woman wept. Of course every one has for given her, for who could resist the pleading of her Wasted face? You can well imagine what an effect she A KENTUCKY COLONEL. 323 had on father. Isn t her coming back the strangest thing you ever heard of? " " It is strange, viewed casually, but is in keeping with the woman s character. Have Fred and Uncle Buck seen her ? " 11 Yes, but neither one of them recognized her at first, she has changed so much. Uncle Buck was con siderably staggered, but Fred wasn t embarrassed very much." When we entered the hall Mrs. Osbury met us, and, with both hands uplifted, bade us walk softly. " She has had a hemorrhage, and is nearly dead. We have taken her into my room." When I entered the room Miss Hatton lay with her eyes closed. Her beautiful hair, having broken its fastenings, covered the pillow with a golden mass. She opened her eyes, and, seeing me, smiled faintly; then she lay as if asleep. We sat about the bedside and talked in whispers. Suddenly she seemed to gain strength, and, attempting to get up, said: " Help me to the carriage." " The carriage is gone," the Colonel answered. " Gone!" " Yes, I have sent it back to town." " Oh, why did you do that? I must not die here." 11 You must not leave here until you are able." "Yes, I must I must go now. What will your neighbors think if " " It shall make no difference what they think. Please do not let anything worry you. Feel that you are at home." A KENTUCKY COLONEL. " Home! " she repeated. Home! my God, I have never known a home." " Then let this be one. " " Oh, you cannot know what you are saying. I who have wronged you " " Do not think of that," Mrs. Osbury cried. " We all do wrong, but we are taught that the wrongdoer who repents causes rejoicing in heaven. Do not think of any wrong you may have done. Think of the Re deemer who smiles upon repentant error and who, with a loving embrace, takes the erring one into His arms. Shall I send for a preacher? A good man, who lives but a little ways from here, would be glad to come and console you." " No, please do not call for any preacher," said the dying woman. " I do not doubt their religion, but, not knowing them, I do not feel that their words could help me. Mr. Burwood," she said, " the watch you gave me saved me from starving. Talk to me about the mercy of Christ, will you please? You know me I have told you how bad I have been. Please don t send for a doctor. He couldn t help me." " Miss I will call you Hatton" said the Colonel, before I could reply, " your soul is just as capable of approval as any soul thathas preceded it. Christ " " Christ," she repeated. " Let me think of that name. I have read," she continued, attempting to rise, " many books that showed Christ to be simply a man." " Don t believe all you have read," the Colonel quickly answered. " Shall I talk to you? " A KENTUCKY COLONEL. 325 "If you please." " Wouldn t you rather have a preacher? " " No, I d rather have you." " But a preacher knows the book better than I do." " But does he know the soul better? " " No, I can t say he does. I " She sank back upon the pillow. Luzelle brought a bottle of cordial. Mrs. Osbury sat gently stroking Miss Hatton s hands. The cordial revived her. " I have known of wise men," said the Colonel, " who reasoned themselves into the belief that Christ was simply a man, yet I have never known of one who was contented afterward. I pay but little attention to churches, and I have but little regard for creeds, but I have faith in Jesus Christ." "The name has a sweet sound," Miss Hatton an swered. " How wonderfully near it sounds. Hitherto when I heard that name it seemed to have come from a great distance from across stretches of sand, but now it is near. I have thought a great deal about death, and sometimes I cannot get away from the belief that it is simply an eternal sleep, with not even a dream to light up its awful midnight. I have thought while lying in bed that, if I should die in my sleep, I should never know anything again, and yet I always awoke and knew that I had slept. I would rather go to a place of punishment than to know nothing at all hereafter. To me there is nothing so awful as uncon sciousness. My only dread of death comes from the 326 A KENTUCKY COLONEL. fear that I shall know nothing hereafter that through hundreds and hundreds of years I shall be nothing." " I cannot help but believe in a future existence/ said the Colonel. " It does not seem possible to me that there can ever be a total extinction of something which I feel within me. It seems possible that this something could sleep for thousands of years, but that some time it must awake." An expression of gladness lighted her face. " I feel that something, too," she replied. " I feel it now stronger than I ever felt it before and and with it all a strange love is is taking possession of me. What is it I my God, I am afraid to be happy, but I am. Merciful Christ! I believe I know that I have a soul, and that it is filled with a love that is beautiful and pure." For a long time she lay without attempting to speak, and as I looked upon her, I mused: " If forgiveness is religion, who shall say that her soul has not been. puri fied?" The clock had struck the hour of midnight. The dying woman lifted her wasted arms, held them as though she were receiving something, and, in a whisper, said: "Welcome." She did not speak again, but when the clock struck one, the Colonel said: " She is gone." We buried her in the old orchard. At last she had found a home. CHAPTER XXIV. CONCLUSION. AUGUST came, and the leaves on the bushes that bordered the county roads were covered with dust. The main topic of conversation, among the farmers, was the great need of rain ; and at church, while the preacher was urging young women to turn from the soul-tainting ways of the world, men sat under the trees discussing the sad plight of the late corn. The old saw, " If it don t rain we ll have a mighty long dry spell, "was a current coin at the store, the toll- gate and the blacksmith s shop. Young fellows who ordinarily took no interest in the talk of old men, would sit in front of the store and listen with keen in^ terest to tales of dry weather away back in the forties; and Uncle Buck, finding that his memory, and, more over, his invention, had made him an important factor of the gathering, hugged the shade of a white oak tree and told of parched grass, of twisted corn-blades and of meadow land that was baked as hard as a brick. His flute exercises were cut down to the minimum of neces sary practice, and at meal-time he was in such haste to return to the store that he frequently left the tablf; with a hunk of bread in his hand. One night, after an excessively hot day, when alow, rolling cloud had been muttering and growling in the tvest, a heavy rain began to fall, and when morning 327 328 A KENTUCKY COLONEL. came the garden and fields looked young in their fresh ness. At the breakfast table it was noticed that Uncle Buck did not eat with his lately acquired haste. " Buck," the Colonel remarked, " you don t feel very well this morning, do you ? " " Yes, I feel all right. Nobody ain t heard me com plain, have they ? " "No, but " " But what, Remington ? " He put down his knife and fork, and, with his el- bovrs placed upon the table, sat gazing at the Colonel. " Well, well," said the Colonel, of course I don t know, but you don t appear to be eating with your usual relish. It may be that, having more time, you are more deliberate." " Oh, you be blamed, Remington. I know what you mean. Man can t set around with a party of friends, after he has worked like a nigger makin a crop, with out you sayin some mean thing. " " Why, my dear suh," the Colonel replied, winking at me, " you beat anybody I ever saw to reach out and grab a wrong construction. Of course you ve got a right to sit around and talk to your friends, and, know ing your enjoyment of this right, I was wondering why you didn t make your usual haste in getting back to the company." " You know they won t be there to-day hang it! " " Simply a drouth circle, eh? " " Yes, if you will have it that way." A KENTUCKY COLONEL. 3 2 9 " Got no use for an oracle except during dry weather. r " Who s an oracle?" "Why, er " " Why, nothin , that s what ! " the old fellow exclaimed. " Remington, I am sometimes tempted to think that you can be as mean a man as I ever saw." " Remington," said Mrs. Osbury, " I wish you wouldn t worry him. You know he can t stand a joke, and " " Joke ! " Buck roared. " Can t stand a joke ! Well, that beats anything I ever heard. Mary, I can stand a joke as well as any man in this world, but I don t like to be abused; I can tell you that. Remington, if you don t want me here, just say so, and I ll leave." " Buck," said the Colonel, " if I have hurt your feelings I am sorry for it. I reckon the rain made me mischievous. This is your home, old man; you know that. You are just as welcome here as if you owned the place. By the way, you took a great fancy to that new black coat of mine. It doesn t fit me very well, and I reckon you d better take it." " Don t fit you ! " Fred cried. " It fits you better than any coat I ever saw you wear. " No, I think not, my son. It is a little too tight under the arms." " Remington, I know it does fit you and I won t take it," the old man generously responded. " By the way, I heard something yesterday while I was down at the store that made me mad. The Nickelsons are talkin about us." 330 A KENTUCKY COLONEL. " How so? " the Colonel asked. " W y, they said that takin that woman into the house " " That ll do," the Colonel broke in. " I don t want to hear any more of it." " Well, but you ought to know. Miss Nickelson . the one with a pug nose said that we pretended to be mighty proud, but that we showed our true selves by takin up with that woman." " That will do, I say." " You might search that whole family," Fred re marked, " and you wouldn t find as much heart as an oyster s got." " I think I know the cause," said Luzelle. " I had to snub Miss Nickelson once. The company she kept was " " Let it all go," the Colonel demanded. " It would have made no difference to me if every finger in this neighborhood had been pointed in scorn at us, I should have acted as I did. Our family is well enough established to ride over a thousand Nickelsons. Now let it drop. Don t mention it again." Immediately after breakfast Uncle Buck began to follow the Colonel about the house, and, regardless of his generous refusal of a kind-hearted offer, I heard him ask: " Remington, where s that coat? " The garment was given to him, and, muttering in self-congratulation, he carried it to his room. 11 Bhilip, are you going out to the field to-day? " Luselle asked. A KENTUCKY C01-OXEL. 331 No; the ground is too \vet for the men to do any thing. There isn t very much to be done, any way. " " Let us hitch up old Tom, then, and drive up on the ridge." The day was delightful, with August s faint sugges tion of autumn. I had never seen Luzelle more joy ous. Nothing along the roadside escaped her half- mischievous comment. When we had come to the spout spring she bade me drive the horse into a cove, where the dampness of the rocks had kept the gras* green. " What are you going to do now?" I asked. " Can t you see? We are going to let old Tom eat grass while we enjoy out picnic." "Are we going to eat grass too? " I asked "Look in the buggy-box!" she laughingly an swered. I looked, and I don t think that I ever saw a more tempting luncheon. " I didn t know that I was invited to such a spread. When did you make these arrangements? " " I have had plenty of time for all needed prepara tions. For several days I have had this trip in view. I was only waiting until it should rain. It is a pity to spread the cloth on these pretty ferns. But we ll have to do it." Even the birds seemed fresher since the rain; their feathers were brighter and their songs were fuller of the notes of joy. " Philip, you see I am determined that our lives shall not become commonplace." 332 A KENTUCKY COLONEL. "You have a dread of anything that is commonplace, haven t you, Luzelle? " " Yes, a horror! Kentucky is not a commonplace State. Much of the sentiment that first found its way to America has been filtered into Kentucky." " You don t find me disposed to let our livesbecome a matter-of-course existence, do you? " " No, Philip. In you I have not met with a single disappointment. And have you been- disappointed in me? " " No; not in the least." "Not the least bit?" " No, but upon the contrary I have discovered in your gentle nature a hundred unsuspected beauties." " It is kind of you, Philip, to talk that way." " But I am telling the truth." " Even though you were not telling the truth," she answered, " I should want you to pay me such compli ments. " Upon returning home we found that Henry had just arrived. " Phil," said he, "let us go into the garden; I have something to tell you." " May I go, too? " Luzelle asked. " No, I want to see Phil privately." " But," she half-whimsically insisted, " he shouldn t have any business that must be kept from me." " That s all right," Henry rejoined. " We ll see you after awhile. Run along now and gather up your quilt pieces. " A KENTUCKY COLONEL. 333 When we had walked some distance down the gar den path, Henry, placing his hand on my arm, said: " Oh, by the way, before I tell you the news I brought you out to hear, let me ask you something more of the woman who died here. The last time I saw you I be lieve you said that she had read my book to you while you were in Tennessee." " Yes." " I wish I could have seen her wish I had been here when she died. I am interested in her character. I met a man the other day who knew her in Cincinnati. He declared that she had a wonderfully bright mind. I wish you would write your experience with her. From it I may get at her character well enough to war rant my use of her in a book but I wish I had seen her. Now for the news: Boyd Savely has returned." " I have been expecting him," I answered, exhibit ing no concern, but feeling, I must acknowledge, a keen anxiety. " Have you seen him, Henry? " " I met him on the sidewalk near Jinny s place. We looked at each other, but did not speak. I saw the sheriff shortly afterward, and he told me, with annoy ing coolness, that Boyd had been drinking. If that be true, we may expect trouble. An old negro who works for Patterson the one who wears the tin sign told me that he heard a conversation between Savely and a dissolute fellow named Bates, and that Savely remarked that so soon as he could sell his farm, he would attend to another important piece of business and then go away, never to return. Let us sit down here. Now, " he added, when we had seated ourselves 334 A KENTUCKY COLONEL. on a bench, " you cannot afford to let him take even the slightest advantage." " But, Henry, I cannot lie in wait for him." " Oh, no, of course not." " Then what am I to do?" " I ll swear I don t know. You d better carry a -shot-gun to the field so that you may be prepared for him." Just then some one yelled: " I don t want you to work here another day!" Looking up, we saw old Buck standing near the gar den fence, angrily shaking his fist at Jack Gap, who stood in the orchard. " Not another day, mind you." " What s the matter with you, ole man? I didn t tech yo late termatuses, nor yo arly ones, nuther. " " Yes, you did, you good-for-nuthin scoundrel. There s hundreds of them all over the country, but you had to come here and steal mine, an then tromp down the vines. I want you to get right off this place." " Mr. Burwood s got sump n to say to that, I reckon." " You don t reckon nuthin of the kind. Git off this place or I ll fill you so full of lead that a yoke of steers couldn t drag you." " That s all right, ole man. Why don t you go on down to the sto and tell them fellers how dry you Ve seed it?" " What did you say, you infernal thief ?" " Said it rained last night." "You air a liar." "So safrog." A KENTUCKY COLONEL. -? 3 r o^ j " Wall, I m done, now. I m not goin to say another word to you. " The old man passed without seeing us. His cheeks were puffed out with rage, and the roll of fat under his chin had grown purple. " The old gentleman s early employment as tragedian in that stirring play, Caught on a Snag/ seems to have unfitted him for the soberer vocations of life/ Henry remarked. " Does he meddle very much with your management of the farm?" " He is not stingy of advice, but I have no trouble with him. Wonder if the old fellow would fight if he were shoved into a corner?" " It would require greater strength to shove him into a corner than it would to whip him. Here comes fether." " What are you boys talking about in such a secret way?" he asked, seating himself. " Something that we must keep from mother and Luzelle/ Henry answered. " Boyd Savely has re turned." The Colonel remained silent for a few moments, and {hen took off his hat, placed it on the ground, turned to me and said: " There is but one way to serve him, suh." " And what way is that?" " The way you would serve a mad dog, suh." " I would hunt for a mad dog," I replied, " to kill him lest he should bite some one, but as Savely is not on an indiscriminate rampage, I think that I ought to let him hunt for me." 336 A KENTUCKY COLONEL. " You are right, Phil; you are right. I have strong confidence in your ability to take care of yourself. Take a shot-gun with you wherever you go, and keep a sharp lookout. Don t make the first break let him show his intentions and then fill his hide so full of holes that it wouldn t hold carpet-rags. That s the way to do. The value of all human life, suh, arises from the estimate which an individual sets upon his own life. They are calling us. Let us go to the house." We found Hammonds on the porch, talking to Mrs. Osbury and Luzelle. When we came up, Luzelle ex claimed: " Guess what has happened! " " Don t know," said the Colonel, " unless the creek has caught fire." " Somebody s married." " Is it Fred? " Henry asked, winking at the Colonel. Mrs. Osbury had began to expostulate, when Luzelle said: " Captain Jinny and Miss Annie Bumpus." " It s a fact," said Hammonds, grasping his whiskers, ducking his head over the " banisters," and then duck ing it back and spitting on the floor. " They didn t say a word to me about it; nobody on the place sus pected it. I didn t go to town to-day, having some tinkering to do around home, and I noticed that when Joe came out of his room he looked sheepish, but I didn t think much of it at the time. He went away, and about two hours afterward came back with Miss Annie. I dittn t think anything cf that either, but A KENTUCKY COLONEL, when says he, Eli, this is my wife, why, I was struck amidships, as the fellow says. Mrs. Jinny didn t exactly send me over here, but she told me that if I did come, I must leave a message for you, Henry, to be sent up to town in case you should not come out soon." " I am here; deliver the message." " Well, she wants you to write something about the marriage. She would have invited you and all of you, in fact but she and Joe had agreed to surprise everybody. She wants you to send off a dispatch - put down some jots for you. Here, "he added, taking out a piece of paper and giving it to Henry. " Says she wouldn t trust anybody else. Wants you to say that she won t go on the stage again, but will help Joe in the store and devote herself to writing when busi ness is slack. They are going to start right away for Bidson County, and spend a few weeks with Annie s kin-folks. You might speak of that, too. Well, r must be getting back. Don t forget it, Henry," Henry sat down on the steps. The Coionci roarefl when Hammonds was no longer within hearing. " Now, what on earth is the matter with you, Remington? " Mrs. Osbury asked. " And you, too, Philip and all of you! What in the world is the matter with you? I don t see anything to laugh at." " Why, mother," said Luzelle, " don t you see any thing ridiculous in such a request? " " Ridiculous! Why, no. The bride wants some thing written about her marriage and expresses her confidence in Henry. I don t see anyth ng ridiculous 338 A KENTUCKY COL ON EL. Freddie," she added, as Fred came around the house, " Miss Annie Bumpus and Captain Jinny are married." " So Hammonds told me. Met him out yonder. " "And," Mrs. Osbury continued, "the bride sent word that she wants Henry to write something about the wedding, and " "She s a fool!" " What do you mean, Frederick! I declare I never saw such people in my life. Come here to me, suh. Ain t you ashamed to talk that way? " " Well, ma, what is there to her to write about? She s crazy; that s what s the matter with her." "Oh, I ll write about her," said Henry. " I ll give her about four columns of small type." " I don t think that much is necessary, my son," Mrs. Osbury answered. " A column, I should think, would be sufficient. Now, Remington, just look at you. A body can t say a word but you have to snort like a horse." " Mother," Henry remarked, " I ll tell you the best plan. We can write her up in the next edition of The History of Shellcut County. " That will take rather too long a time, my son. Now, just look at Remington again." " I don t know how the community at large stands on the subject," said the Colonel, wiping his eyes, " but I m going to take a mint julep." Before I sank to sleep that night many tired hours seemed to tramp through my mind, with the clock s tick-tack serving as the sound of their footsteps. Other feverish hours had I known hi that room, but A KENTUCKY COLONEL. 339 they had been stirred into restlessness by a love that thought itself repulsed. Now the object of that love lay beside me, gently sleeping sleeping in sweet inno cence of the fact that she had made a coward of me. In the morning, as we, holding each other s hands, were walking down the hall, Luzelle said: " Philip, you don t look well this morning." " I am not in the least ill, dear, only I didn t sleep very much." " What worried you?" she asked, stopping me and gazing into my eyes. " Oh, nothing of importance. The drouth " " Why, you said the drouth didn t hurt the early corn." " No, but the late corn " " But don t you know you said the rain came in time for that? Now, please don t let anything bother you. We are just as happy as can be. Come on, now, and don t worry. " After breakfast, when she asked me why I was taking a gun with me to the field, I answei^a that a mad dog had been seen in the neighborhood, and that I wanted to be prepared in the event of receiving a call from the rabid animal. This story also served me in the way of forbidding Luzelle s daily visits to the field. Several days passed, and I saw nothing of Savely. The weather had become intensely hot again, and the white dust of the turnpike lay thick on the orchard grass. One evening Henry came from town, and, after telling me that he had seen Savely drunk, added: " And I hear from a trustworthy source that he has sold 3 /J.O A KENTUCKY COLONEL. his farm. In my opinion, he will make an effort to khl you before he can get his own consent to leave the neighborhood. I will stay down here several days, to serve you should he ring in any of his friends. But that is not likely. I don t think that he has a friend he could draw into danger." The next morning Henry went out to the field with me. My men were breaking up the fall wheat land. Just before dinner-time Henry and I were standing near a fence that ran parallel with the turnpike. I was listening to a description of some of the characters in his forthcoming book. " You must understand that this old man," said he, " is only humorous in a sort of viciousness that he expresses." " But how can humor be vicious?" I asked. " Wit can be cruelty itself, but humor, I should think, is genial. " " You are right. I do not mean that the old fellow is really humorous. I mean that there is a laugh-pro voking quality in some of his tirades against men whom he does not like and against political measures which do not suit him. His By the Lord, there is Savely !" I looked up, and not more than twenty yards away saw Savely riding toward us. The horse was walking slowly, and the rider sat with his head bowed over. I reached for my gun and cocked it. Suddenly Savely looked up, and, seeing me, snatched out a pistol and soused his spurs into the horse. The horse sprang for ward, stumbled and fell. The animal got up, but Savely did not arise. We ran to him. His neck was broken, A KENTUCKY COLONEL. 341 The white dust of the turnpike, disturbed by his fall, was settling down upon his wavy hair. * * * * I was sitting under a tree when two men, returning from a funeral and talking in loud tones as the? passed, said: " Might never have happened if he hadn t been drunk." " That may be, but I always hold that a thing that s goin to happen has to happen, whether or no. Do you ricolleck Hy Sanderson? He was killed by a hoss mighty nigh the same way." # * # * Luzelle and I, resting on the bench under the lilacs, have listened to the whisperings of many an everving. It is summer again, early at morning, and, as I sit in an upper room, I hear the jingle of trace-chains: the plow- boys are going out to the field. I have just received a note from Major Patterson, in which he tells me that a stranger from Missouri has tried to " run over old Tobias," but that the stranger, although he expressed his intention of settling in Emryville, has left the town. The jingle of the trace-chains dies away, and now I hear the wailing notes of a flute. Presently Uncle Buck will come out of the crib, with corn-silks hanging to him, and declare to some one that he is tired of working like a "nigger." Mrs. Osbury has just returned from Hammonds house. She went thither late last night, as Mrs. Jinny, who boards <?here, wanted to see her on important business. I 342 A KENTUCKY COLONEL. understand that the important business has been trans acted, and that Mrs. Jinny is doing very well. The Colonel has just left me. " Phil," he said, while standing in the doorway, " counting in the satisfaction \ve had in doing the work, we haven t lost anything on the history. We will write another one, suh." Henry s novel is meeting with a large sale. Some of the critics those who know nothing of the people who inhabit the household of his book are disposed to find fault with it, but their criticism, Henry declares, is a strong recommendation. I hear a sweet voice, and, looking down into the yard, I see Luzelle swinging a hammock; and to her singing there arises a sort of cooing accompaniment. She bends over the hammock, and a little somebody, reaching up, " tangles a hand in her hair." THE END. THIS BOOK IS DUE ON THE LAST DATE STAMPED BELOW AN INITIAL FINE OF 25 CENTS WILL BE ASSESSED FOR FAILURE TO RETURN THIS BOOK ON THE DATE DUE. THE PENALTY WILL INCREASE TO SO CENTS ON THE FOURTH DAY AND TO $1.OO ON THE SEVENTH DAY OVERDUE. FEE 5 1935 JL ^ r v99\$fcl fl w& REC. CIR. Jim 715 .- .-- nrr MAR 07 87 : """ w * UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY U.C. BERKELEY LIBRARIES i"i : III |i||| ||| 8003001^2