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REESE LIBRARY 
 
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 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA 
 
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PAUL REDDING: 
 
 OF 
 
 THE BRANDYWINE, 
 
 BY T. B. READ. 
 
 .H SIT Y 
 
 BOSTON: 
 A. TOMPKINS AND B. B. MUSSEY. 
 
 REDDING & CO. 
 
 1845. 
 
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1845, by 
 
 A. TOMPK1NS, 
 
 In the Clerk s Office of the District Court of Massachusetts. 
 
 Wm. A. Hall 8f Co. s Press, 141 Washington street. 
 
JD^iruatton. 
 
 TO 
 
 NICHOLAS LONGWORTH, ESQ., 
 
 OF CINCINNATI, 
 
 IS MOST RESPECTFULLY INSCRIBED, 
 
 BY 
 THE AUTHOR. 
 
NOT mine the measured tread of solemn marches, 
 When sable weeds float plume-like on the air ; 
 
 Nor stately step beneath triumphal arches, 
 When conq ring heroes flowery chaplets wear. 
 
 Not of the days of armor, shields, and lances, 
 When monarchs bade the tournament begin ; 
 
 When woman s presence made uncertain chances 
 More fatal still amid the clashing din ; 
 
 When flowed the tide of war with purpose holy, 
 And spread its waves of blood o er Palestine ; 
 
 And when, to expiate some sin or folly, 
 The weary pilgrim sought the distant shrine. 
 
 Not from those days, so olden and romantic, 
 
 My humble wand would raise the scene sublime ; 
 
 A mightier voice hath called from graves gigantic 
 The stalwart champions of that iron time. 
 
 Nor have I sat amid those lofty towers 
 
 Where Speculation broods with visage pale ; 
 
 Nor walked with impious feet Love s sacred bowers, 
 To tell once more an oft-repeated tale ; 
 
 No individual wrongs have deigned to borrow, 
 To swell the story ; nor disturbed the dead ; 
 
 But through the changing paths of joy and sorrow, 
 Have followed where Imagination led. 
 
PAUL REDDING, 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 " Though truly some there are 
 Whose footsteps superstitiously avoid 
 This venerable tree; for when the wind 
 Blows keenly, it sends forth a creaking sound 
 (Above the general roar of woods and crags) 
 Distinctly heard from far a doleful note ! 
 As if (so Grecian shepherds would have deemed,) 
 The Hamadryad, pent within, bewailed 
 Some bitter wrong. Nor is it unbelieved, 
 By ruder fancy, that a troubled ghost 
 Haunts this old trunk ; lamenting deeds of which 
 The flowery ground is conscious." 
 
 WORDSWORTH. 
 
 THE BRANDYWINE river may be observed, at one 
 time, winding slowly, in its silvery silence, through 
 richly-pastured farms ; or running broad and rip 
 pling over its beautiful bed of pearly shells and 
 golden pebbles, (with which it toys and sings as 
 merrily as an innocent-hearted child,) until its 
 waters contract and roll heavily and darkly beneath 
 the grove of giant oaks, elms and sycamores ; but 
 soon, like the sullen flow of a dark heart, it breaks 
 angrily over the first obstruction. Thus you may 
 1 
 
10 PAUL REDDING. 
 
 see the Brandywine, at one point, boiling savagely 
 over a broken bed of rocks, until its thick sheets of 
 foam slide, like an avalanche of snow, into a deep 
 pool, where it sends up a whispering voice, like 
 that which pervades a rustling audience when the 
 drop-curtain has shed its folds upon a scene that, 
 like the " Ancient Mariner," has held each ear and 
 eye as with a magic spell. 
 
 This place is bound in, on either side, by an 
 almost perpendicular precipice of dark rocks ; at 
 the top of which, among the crevices, grow a few 
 small cedars ; but farther back, as the soil increases 
 in depth, the trees are larger, and form, upon that 
 eminence, a beautiful grove, where the twilight, 
 even at high noon, is held a delicious captive. 
 From the limbs of the largest elms hang long 
 waving vines, wrought, as you might think, into the 
 fantastic splendors of the richest pile of ornamental 
 Gothic, and 
 
 " Neath cloistered boughs each floral bell that swingeth, 
 
 And tolls its perfume on the passing air, 
 Makes Sabbath in the fields, and ever ringeth 
 
 A call to prayer ! " 
 
 Those natural arbors are entirely devoid of under 
 brush, and so perfectly carpeted with that evergreen 
 moss, that bends and rises elastic as you step, you 
 could not but imagine that there Titania held her 
 moonlit revelries ! and the voice of the waters, 
 borne on the air down through the chasm, when 
 softened by the distance into music, seemed, indeed, 
 
PAUL REDDING. 11 
 
 to be a melody furnished by invisible musicians 
 whilst nature held high festival. 
 
 It was to this place, one sunny afternoon in 
 September, that a pedestrian was attracted, by the 
 richness of the scene, from the main road that 
 wound around the side of the hill. He was not 
 more than eighteen years of age, and of a slender 
 constitution. For awhile his nervous dark eye 
 wandered from object to object ; he saw the wild 
 fish-hawk circling high in heaven, and watched it 
 until at last it struck downwards at an acute angle 
 and disappeared beneath the waters ; the youth 
 gazed at the spot until he beheld the bird rise again 
 and dash the flashing spray from his dusky wings. 
 It is a strange sensation to stand, as it were, a 
 sentinel on one of nature s own embattlements ; 
 to be the only human creature for the time that is 
 gazing on a scene of startling grandeur, to be in 
 that situation when with one step we might plunge 
 our bodies into an eternal oblivion, where man 
 might never after dream of our destination ! How 
 strange, too, is that dreadful impulse, which strives 
 in some under such circumstances, to gain the 
 ascendency over reason, and to draw them on to 
 fatal consequences ! Such was the giddy feeling 
 with which the youth started back from the edge of 
 the precipice, almost trembling to think that one 
 moment more might have been too late ! Let not 
 this be thought an evidence of cowardice ; but 
 rather the effect of a most nervous imagination ever 
 
12 PAUL REDDING. 
 
 on the stretch and cultivated far beyond the other 
 faculties of the mind. Paul Redding, for such was 
 the name of the young man, hurried away from 
 the scene, feeling a pressure upon his brain, for the 
 moment, almost intolerable ; and emerging into the 
 calm recesses of the grove, threw himself upon a 
 mossy mound. The loveliness of the place soon 
 stole upon his senses. Little flowers were smiling 
 beside him; squirrels were leaping from limb to 
 limb, as fearlessly as though man were the usual 
 inhabitant of the scene ; and Paul s imagination 
 once more freely played with the beautiful things 
 about him. His fancy whispered that perchance 
 some brave Indian chieftain slept beneath that old 
 oak, that reared its head so majestically to heaven, 
 a monument raised by pitying nature over her 
 warrior son. And he could not but sigh to think 
 that some gentle maid might be there, even beneath 
 the very mound on which he rested, without a line 
 or mark to tell where rests the innocent ; yet could 
 he read a divine epitaph written with modest violets 
 upon a mossy tablet; yes, an epitaph that nature 
 each year will renew, even when the mightiest 
 monuments have ceased to tell their tales ! As 
 Paul beheld the slanting bars of sunlight, that 
 pierced through the deep retreat, he was reminded 
 of the distance which he had yet to go, and turning 
 from the grove he pursued his way for a moment ; 
 but the magic spirit of the place had thrown, as it 
 were, its flowery fetters about his feet, and he 
 
PAUL REDDING. 13 
 
 could not tear himself away. As he stood wrapped 
 in the hazy mantle, that the scene around and his 
 fancy had woven about him, he thought that those 
 grand old trees seemed with their broad brazen 
 faces to smile upon their smaller mates, while the 
 latter, covered with moving vines, appeared like 
 joyous maidens weaving garlands for their grim 
 lovers. But alas, 
 
 " The Dryad days were brief, 
 
 Whereof the poets talk, 
 When that, which breathes within the leaf, 
 
 Could slip its bark and walk." 
 
 This scene induced Paul to strive and transcribe it 
 to paper. He sat down upon a stone, at a little 
 distance, beside an old apple-tree, whose blasted 
 trunk leant over almost to the earth. The youth 
 wondered how long it had been since that antiquated 
 fruit-bearer had been planted there. He saw down 
 by the road-side a large dilapidated square stone 
 building ; but the great number of fruit-trees in the 
 vicinity of the house seemed to bear no fellowship 
 with this. Around him were the marks of old ex 
 cavations, with long grass growing over the stones 
 that filled them. Over one of these places evidently 
 had stood a house, that day after day had thrown 
 a time-marking shadow across the hill. Substance 
 and shadow, thought the youth, where are they ? 
 The storms of many years have beaten one into 
 the earth, and the sun has picked up the other ! 
 Those depressions in the sod seemed, indeed, like 
 
14 PAUL REDDING. 
 
 the footprints of a past generation. How long, 
 sighed Paul, has it been since happy, fair-haired 
 children played at the door of this lost dwelling ? 
 or gathered the ruddy-cheeked apples from this 
 tree, their own faces as beautiful and glowing ? 
 Where are they now ? Time has pressed his 
 finger upon the cheeks of some, leaving an indel 
 ible print, while he now stands with green sandals 
 on the graves of others. In the midst of this 
 meditation, Paul s eye again reverted to the paper 
 and pencil ; but he had revelled too deeply in the 
 grandeur and beauty of the scene to trace out with 
 cool precision each particular feature. The loveli 
 ness of the landscape had been melting into his 
 very soul, and the urn was not yet full to over 
 flowing. When the spirit, which administers the 
 power to write or to draw, impels, it is imperative, 
 and he who writes or draws without the promptings 
 of that spirit, is profane ! As the eye of the youth 
 again fell upon the paper, and as his ear caught the 
 music of the river, scarcely aware of what he did, 
 he traced these lines, which were the real out- 
 bursting of a heart full of strange melodies : 
 
 THE BRANDYWINE. 
 I. 
 
 Not Juniata s rocky tide 
 That bursts its mountain barriers wide, 
 Nor Susquehanna broad and fair, 
 Nor thou, sea-drinking Delaware, 
 May with that lovely stream compare 
 
 V- 
 
EAUL REDDING. 15 
 
 That draws its winding silver line 
 Through Chester s storied vales and hills, 
 The bright, the laughing Brandywine, 
 That dallies with its hundred mills. 
 
 IT. 
 
 It sings beneath its bridges gray 
 To cheer the dusty traveller s way ; 
 Or courting for a time his glance, 
 It rests in glassy stillness there, 
 And soon gives back his countenance 
 
 Beguiled of half its care. 
 Or wide before some cottage door 
 It spreads to show its pebbled floor ; 
 And there while little children meet 
 To gather shells at sunny noon, 
 Its ripples sparkle round their feet, 
 
 And weave a joyous tune. 
 
 in. 
 
 Yet I have seen it foam when pent 
 As wroth at the impediment; 
 For like our noble ancestry 
 It ever struggled to be free ! 
 But soon along some shady bank 
 In conscious liberty it sank, 
 Then woke and sought the distant bay 
 With many a blessing on its way. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Oh when our life hath run its course, 
 Our billowy pulses lost their force, 
 Then may we know the heavenly ray 
 Of peace hath lit our useful way ; 
 Yet feel assured that every ill 
 Eath sunk beneath a steadfast will. 
 
16 PAUL REDDING. 
 
 May we, when dying, leave behind 
 
 Somewhat to cheer a kindred mind ; 
 
 That toil-worn souls may rather bless 
 
 Than curse us in their sore distress. 
 
 For O, his is a hateful lot 
 
 Who dies accursed, or dies forgot; 
 
 But sweet it is to know the brave 
 
 May conquer, with good deeds, the grave ; 
 
 And leave a name that long may shine 
 
 Like that of memory divine, 
 
 The far-famed " Banks of Brandy wine." 
 
 Paul had proceeded thus far, when, suddenly, a 
 heavy shadow fell across the paper ; he turned his 
 gaze hurriedly up, there stood confronting him a 
 tall, gaunt figure, which, as it was situated exactly 
 between himself and the afternoon sun, seemed to 
 be at first but one dense shadow, with just sufficient 
 of the human form to make its appearance ghostly. 
 The young man started to his feet, and by so doing, 
 was enabled to discern the face and features of the 
 stranger, which were those of a tall, middle-aged 
 man, haggard and insane. His large, black eyes 
 flashed wildly from beneath dark, heavy brows ; 
 his features were regular, and his complexion was 
 of that sombre hue, which is only seen on those 
 persons who are subject to all vicissitudes of wind 
 and sun. His locks were long and straggling, and 
 his cheeks deeply sunken. He wore a long, dark, 
 old-fashioned surtout ; around his waist was tied a 
 large, parti-colored handkerchief, whilst another of 
 
PAUL REDDING. 17 
 
 a similar character was fastened around his neck 
 outside of the upright coat-collar. Paul surveyed 
 him with wonder ; and the mysterious man stood 
 leaning on a tall staff, gazing wildly on the youth ; 
 his lips moving inaudibly, as though devoid of all 
 power of articulation. His lank hands, as they 
 grasped the top of the stick, seemed like those of a 
 skeleton, encased in shrivelled gloves. At last he 
 muttered aloud, 
 
 " Did you see them pass this way ? " 
 
 " See what pass this way ? " replied Paul. 
 
 "Ay, ay, I thought so," said the man, looking 
 vacantly on the distance. A silence of some 
 moments ensued ; in the mean time, Paul strove to 
 invent some plan by which he could draw some 
 thing satisfactory from the stranger, and therefore 
 requested him to sit down, at the same time point 
 ing to the stone seat beneath the old apple-tree. 
 
 " No ! no ! not there ! not there ! " cried the 
 stranger. " I ve been scraping the spots from the 
 floor with this blade ! " as he spoke, he produced 
 a large, broad-bladed, buck-handled knife. " Yes, 
 with this blade," he continued ; " they say, that 
 which gives may take away ; but oak is hard wood, 
 and it holds a stain as tightly as the conscience ! " 
 With a loud hysterical laugh, the maniac hurried 
 away toward the wood, leaving the young man to 
 pursue his course and to draw his own conclusions. 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 Hominem pagina nostra sapit. 
 
 MARTIAL. 
 
 MYNHEER GOTLIEB SPECKUNCROUT was the pro 
 prietor of the Half-way House, a place of " enter 
 tainment for man and beast," situated on the road 
 leading from Philadelphia to Lancaster. The host 
 was a very diminutive specimen of humanity, with 
 a very round head and a remarkably red nose. 
 Of a warm summer afternoon, he would take his 
 pipe and station himself beneath the old elm-tree 
 that shaded the front of the inn, and for hours 
 contemplate with intense interest the counterfeit 
 presentment of the " Half-way House," on the 
 swinging sign-board. It was with great compla 
 cency and secret admiration that he gazed upon 
 something in the shape of a man, very uniquely 
 enveloped in a long waistcoat and red night-cap, 
 represented as helping a stranger from the stage 
 coach. With considerable curiosity, too, he com 
 pared each particular button of his own vest with 
 those of the one on the sign ; and with quiet deter 
 mination, each day resolved that his cap should 
 undergo a course of soap and water to restore its 
 primitive brightness, in order that the one on the 
 board might not outvie the original. Nor could 
 Mynheer Speckuncrout refrain at all times from 
 
PAUL REDDING. 19 
 
 speaking aloud his admiration of that wonderful 
 specimen of art. Every new guest must undergo 
 the infliction of hearing all the merits of the picture 
 explained and expatiated upon, and Mynheer never 
 finished an eulogy upon John Dobbs, the painter, 
 without repeating the exclamation of the frau 
 Speckuncrout, when she first beheld the portrait of 
 the Half-way House. He would take his pipe from 
 his mouth, and exclaim, " Der frau, when she saw 
 der pictur, put up her specs, den put em down, 
 den looked close at der pictur, den stood away, an 
 she said, Veil now, John Dobbs, veil I declare, if 
 I did n t know dat vasn t Gotlieb Speckuncrout, I 
 should say that it vas, for its just as much like 
 Gotlieb Speckuncront as I never see ! Ha, ha, 
 dat vas vot der frau said, yes." Thereupon Myn 
 heer would replace his pip e, rub his hands briskly 
 together, and send them on an exploring expedition 
 into the depths of his pockets. 
 
 One warm afternoon in September, the host, as 
 usual, was sitting beneath the old elm tree, gazing 
 at his counterpart swinging gently to and fro, at 
 the same time very meditatively rubbing his hand 
 over the features of his face ; but his proboscis was 
 the especial point of attraction. He had just ex 
 claimed to himself, as was his practice, when no 
 other audience happened to be at hand, " And der 
 
 frau said, veil now, John Dobbs " Just at 
 
 that moment he was startled by the sound of the 
 stageman s horn. Mynheer left the exclamation of 
 
20 PAUL REDDING. 
 
 the frau Speckuncrout unfinished, for that was no 
 time to contemplate the fine arts. The driver 
 cracked his whip, and the horses dashed furiously 
 up to the door of the inn. A very tall gentleman 
 in a military suit, boasting remarkably red hair, 
 tremendous mustaches and imperial of the same 
 agreeable sunset hue, gave Mynheer Gotlieb his 
 hand ; the little host very good-naturedly assisted 
 that savage-looking, warlike gentleman from the 
 coach, and the warlike gentleman, in a very com 
 manding voice, ordered the good-natured host to 
 bring in his baggage, give him the best room in the 
 house, and the best dinner that the place would 
 afford, in the shortest possible notice. To all of 
 which Gotlieb Speckuncrout answered, " Yaw, 
 Mynheer," and proceeded to the business forthwith. 
 However, in a few moments he was summoned 
 very loudly by the warlike gentleman, and when 
 the host made his appearance, the aforesaid gentle 
 man looked Waterloo at him, and exclaimed, " I 
 say, fellow, where is the landlord ? " 
 
 Mynheer was thunderstruck. He opened his 
 eyes to their fullest extent, partly with astonish 
 ment, and partly to view more perfectly the first 
 person who had ever mistaken him for any one 
 else than the veritable host. But the warlike gen 
 tleman repeated the inquiry with somewhat more 
 of fierceness, and Mynheer, in as mild a manner as 
 possible, replied, 
 
 "Veil, if so be as you never did see Gotlieb 
 
PAUL REDDING. 
 
 I 
 OF THE 
 
 UNITIES I 1 ] 
 
 Speckuncrout, (here he turned his eyes to the ceil 
 ing, to pray all the saints in his calendar to forgive 
 the warlike gentleman for the oversight,) " I say, if 
 so be as you never did see Gotlieb Speckuncrout, 
 vy just step this vay." He walked towards the 
 door, and the gentleman followed rather hesitat 
 ingly, looking all the time as though he would like 
 a brace of just such bipeds, with or without trim 
 mings, for dinner. Although Mynheer s feelings 
 were outraged, he, good-naturedly as possible, 
 directed the warlike gentleman to observe the sign 
 board. The son of Mars drew an eye-glass from 
 his pocket, and gazed through it toward the above- 
 named object. He dropped his eyes several times 
 from the picture to the original, thereby acknowl 
 edging the likeness. Mynheer s triumph was com 
 plete, and he exclaimed, " Veil, you see that s me, 
 me ! Gotlieb Speckuncrout yaw ! And mine 
 frau, ven she first saw der pictur, she said " 
 
 " Sir ! " growled the warlike gentleman in a 
 voice of thunder, "Sir! is this the only public 
 house in this place ? " That last interrogation was 
 the very acme of insults. Mynheer looked first 
 with amazement all around, then at himself up and 
 down, and then at the door very compassionately, 
 for he knew that it must feel bad. At last, shading 
 his eyes with his hand, he looked far down the 
 village, and with great determination he replied, 
 
 "There is another house down der village, 
 but Gotlieb Speckuncrout vas never the man to 
 

 22 PAUL REDDING. 
 
 say any thing against his neighbors, no ! But den 
 I have been told by dem as have slept there, that 
 they always vas troubled with some kind o an mals 
 ven they vent to bed ; but I never says any thing 
 against my neighbors, no ! P raps dern an mal 
 vas the night- mare, and p raps they vasn t I 
 doesn t pretend to say I never says nothing 
 against my neighbors, no ! " Thereupon the war 
 like gentleman walked into the Half-way House, 
 registered his name, and retired to await the com 
 ing of his dinner. 
 
 On the tenth of September there was a stranger s 
 name registered at the Half-way House ; for, be 
 it known, that at a country inn every man and boy 
 in the town scrawls his autograph in the dirty book 
 that always occupies one end of the little counter at 
 the bar. There you may find the ostler s name, 
 looking for all the world like a very long animal, 
 with a great many straggling legs, running off of 
 the page, at an angle of forty-five degrees. There, 
 too, you may find a page where the writing-master 
 has displayed his immense skill in drawing eagles, 
 and very top-heavy goose quills, ready made into 
 pens, writing all of their own accord. Yes, on 
 the tenth of September, the warlike gentleman 
 turned to a new, clean place, and wrote in large 
 fierce letters, " Captain Courtly Cutlass, of the 
 king s service." That autograph was a bright 
 ornament to the register, and, in the eyes of Myn 
 heer, the leaf that held that name was forever 
 afterward sacred. 
 
PAUL REDDING. 23 
 
 When the stage-coach arrives at a village, there 
 are always a number of persons ready to run and 
 see who gets out or who gets in; but there are 
 others, again, who will not mingle with what they 
 deem the vulgar people, (for the pettiest town has 
 its aristocracy,) but who, after common curiosity 
 is gratified, walk leisurely past the inn, call as they 
 return, as though it were the merest accident in 
 the world. Such a person was the Hon. Timothy 
 Littleworth, the only justice of the peace in the 
 village, and, for one term, a senator to the State 
 legislature from that place. This gentleman must 
 have been some fifty years of age ; his person was 
 not over-comely to look upon; he affected a sort of 
 neglige in his dress, a very common custom with 
 men of genius. Was it because Mr. Littleworth s 
 gigantic intellect towered above all considerations 
 of dress, that he thus neglected his outward appear 
 ance ? To be sure it was ! Think you that a 
 politician ever thought of wearing shabby clothes, 
 merely to gain votes with the poorer classes, at the 
 same time to insinuate himself into the favor of the 
 rich by appearing independent ? The very thought 
 is slander! But the Hon. Timothy Littleworth, 
 member of the Harrisburg senate, and justice of the 
 peace, was often complimented by being told that 
 he was the very counterpart of Napoleon, and Mr. 
 Littleworth s conscience forbade him to commit the 
 unpardonable sin of denying truth, even when 
 modesty prompted him to the act. Who that ever 
 
24 PAUL REDDING. 
 
 saw Mr. Timothy Littleworth, standing by the fish 
 pond in his garden, with his arms folded over his 
 breast, his right foot protruded somewhat in ad 
 vance of his left, and his eyes fixed on the tiny 
 ocean, perhaps contemplating a frog, who, I say, 
 that ever beheld Mr. Littleworth in such a position, 
 but was strongly reminded of Napoleon Bonaparte 
 on the island of St. Helena ? Such was the gentle 
 man, who, at four o clock, p. M., stepped into the 
 bar-room of the Half-way House. 
 
 Mynheer Speckencrout was not a partizan of Mr. 
 Littleworth, and as he set a decanter, containing a 
 deeply-colored fluid, on the bar before that honora 
 ble gentleman, he observed, 
 
 " Meister Leetlevort, my friend, I vill drink your 
 good health ; yaw, I vill vish you may be guf ner, 
 because you decided de case of de brindle cow in 
 my favor." Mr. Littleworth s countenance lit up 
 amazingly. " But," continued Mynheer, " I have 
 something just here, (Mr. Speckencrout placed 1 his 
 hand as he spoke, about on the tenth button from 
 the top of his waistcoat,) I have something just 
 here as tells me I can t fote for you, yaw ! " Mr. 
 Littleworth looked at the host for a moment re 
 proachfully ; but glancing at the glass in his hand, 
 his countenance relaxed into a smile of forgiveness, 
 he raised the liquor to his lips, and contemplated 
 Mynheer for several moments through the bottom 
 of the tumbler. " No ! " ejaculated the host, as he 
 set his glass down on the counter with considerable 
 
PAUL REDDING. 25 
 
 emphasis ; " No, Johannes Clitersnider is the man, 
 yaw ! " 
 
 Mr. Littleworth no sooner heard the name of his 
 opponent than he poured the remains of the liquor 
 precipitously down his throat, and putting aside his 
 glass, thrust his hands with alarming determination 
 into the skirt pockets of his coat, and gave vent to 
 a groan that seemed to come from the very depths 
 of his shoes, accompanied with the exclamation of, 
 
 " A tailor ! " 
 
 " Yaw ! " reiterated Gotlieb, as he turned to fill 
 his pipe, " and vhat if Johannes Clitersnider is a 
 tailor ? Der man as fits me mit a coat, can fit me 
 mit law yaw, dats vat I tink." 
 
 Mr. Littleworth s feelings as a man, as a citizen, 
 as a statesman, and as a patriot, were too much 
 outraged to permit him to make any reply. He 
 took a pinch of snuff from the box on the counter, 
 drew it up his proboscis in a most desperate man 
 ner, coughed vehemently, and sneezed an indefinite 
 number of times. His eye caught the glaring name 
 of Captain Courtly Cutlass on the register ; and, 
 putting on his glasses to satisfy himself in regard 
 to that remarkable autograph, he became convinced 
 that it was no ostentatious flourish of Samuel Spat 
 ter, the writing-master. He left his card for the 
 warlike gentleman, and assuming an air as though 
 he had done one of the most condescending things 
 in the world, took his leave of Mynheer Gotlieb 
 Speckencrout, and the Half-way House, very much 
 2 
 
26 PAUL REDDING. 
 
 as though he considered it a painful but imperative 
 duty to carry away that vast amount of greatness 
 that had for the last half hour shed a lustre on the 
 most inanimate fixtures of the bar-room. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 His air was wild ; and he did stare and talk 
 Of things uncouth to dream of. 
 
 WE must return to our young traveller. The 
 day had been extremely sultry, such a one as is 
 usually the precursor of a thunder-storm. The 
 sun had not yet passed behind the blue hills in the 
 distance, when a big black cloud, like a wrathful 
 giant with flashing eyes, came heavily up the sky. 
 The winds, that had all day slumbered in the 
 vales, now leaped from their velvet couches, and, 
 as though suddenly awakened from the terrors 
 of a dream, ran wildly to and fro ; now whirling 
 the dust from the road across the fields ; and again 
 slamming the shutter in the very face of a roguish 
 girl, who stood laughing at a traveller that had the 
 misfortune to be forced to chase his hat the whole 
 length of the village ; which hat ran with a hop- 
 skip-and-a-jump along the road, and only came to 
 a halt when it was lodged in the water-trough in 
 front of the " Half-way House." The unfortunate 
 traveller, (and we are loath to admit the fact, since 
 it was rather an unpoetical situation for the hero of 
 
PAUL REDDING. 27 
 
 a story,) proved to be Paul Redding. He stepped 
 into the bar-room, and dropping a bundle in the cor 
 ner, drew a chair to the window, and gazed silently 
 on the coming storm. A cloud as dense as that 
 which filled the heaven, had hung, and still con 
 tinued to hang, over the sky that should rather have 
 smiled than frowned upon a friendless youth. But 
 the heart of the young is like the slender stem that 
 bears the flower ; though it may bend to the storm it 
 rises elastic again ; it is only the stubborn or decayed 
 branches that break beneath the footsteps of mis 
 fortune ; 
 
 " The flower, she touched on, dipt and rose, 
 And turned to look at her." 
 
 What though Paul could look to no protecting 
 father, no sympathizing mother or sister? what 
 though there was no bright spot on earth that he 
 could call home ? Still there was a light, one 
 bright object that cheered him through a life which 
 lowered so forbiddingly ; and that bright spot was 
 within his own breast ! What though he had been 
 cast among heartless people ? still was he triumph 
 ant, for he had a proud heart. 
 
 Paul sat musing, but not gloomy; though, per 
 haps, somewhat sad, until Mynheer touched him on 
 the shoulder and asked him into supper. He was 
 seated at the table with some five or six others, 
 among whom was a tall man, who boasted a very 
 large Roman nose, very small eyes hid behind 
 a pair of green glasses, and a very cadaverous 
 
28 PAUL REDDING. 
 
 mouth; these features, when combined, wore an 
 expression of self-satisfaction mingled with a large 
 amount of sly cunning, and even the green glasses 
 seemed to sympathize with the changes of his coun 
 tenance. After looking very sharply at Paul for a 
 moment, he exclaimed, " Well, I guess, stranger, 
 we re agoin to have some rain ; " at the same time 
 putting great emphasis on the adjective " some." 
 Paul ventured to reply that there was every pros 
 pect of a shower. 
 
 " Prospect of a shower ! " repeated the gentle 
 man in green glasses, " I tell you what, my juve 
 nile friend, we shall have some rain ; " putting the 
 emphasis now on the word "rain." The landlord 
 looked at the youth, as much as to say, Is n t he 
 a wonderful man, to be sure ? Paul betrayed no 
 astonishment in regard to the matter ; but applied 
 himself to his toast and tea. The gentleman in 
 green glasses was evidently uneasy ; he kept his 
 eyes on the pale face of the youth without even 
 winking, seeming lost in conjecture. He sat not 
 long, however, in that mute manner, but, as if 
 words had just rushed to his assistance, he ex 
 claimed, " Well, stranger, you see I have to call 
 you stranger, seeing as I do n t know your name, 
 you know." Here the gentleman took breath a 
 moment, evidently disappointed when the young 
 man merely nodded his head, indicating that he had 
 no objection to being called stranger. "I was 
 a goin to say," continued he, " that you came 
 
PAUL REDDING. 29 
 
 darned near being caught, for just see how like all 
 Jehu it s rainin . The clouds is pouring out their 
 everlastin waters on the parched arth, while all 
 natur stands with her mouth stretched from ear to 
 ear, ready to gulp it all down. Ah, my friend, this 
 is a beautiful world to contemplate ; yes, sir, it s 
 beautiful to hear the wind smashin among the trees 
 and tearin about as though it was taking its eternal 
 blow ! It s beautiful to see the lightnin shootin 
 from heaven to arth like a streak of wrath ; arid to 
 hear the thunder roarin like like like hem 
 thunder ! P raps you ve walked some distance 
 to-day, stranger ? " Paul answered that he had 
 travelled some miles. 
 
 " From Lancaster ? " continued the gentleman 
 in green glasses. 
 
 " No," was the reply, " I have not walked so far 
 as that ;" and, much to the discomfort of the gentle 
 man who seemed indefatigable in his research into 
 other people s affairs, Paul finished his cup of tea 
 and left the table. The gentleman in green glasses 
 lost his appetite immediately, and as he arose from 
 the table whispered into the ear of the host, that 
 the person who had just stepped out was an origi 
 nal ! Mynheer opened his eyes to their fullest 
 extent, and exclaimed, " No ! " 
 
 " Yes! " reiterated the other. 
 
 " Veil, I never ! " said the host. 
 
 " Yes," replied the gentleman in green glasses 
 again, giving Mynheer a very significant wink, as he 
 
30 PAUL REDDING. 
 
 made his way to the bar-room. For a few mo 
 ments he stood by the window contemplating the 
 storm; but as if the last flash of lightning had 
 struck him with a new idea, he exclaimed, 
 
 "I say, stranger, p raps you hav nt writ your 
 name in that ere book, have you ? " pointing, as he 
 spoke, to the register. Paul answered in the nega 
 tive. " Well, I didn t say you had, you know;" 
 and the inquisitive gentleman opened the volume 
 that laid on the counter. His eye wandered rapidly 
 from page to page, until, at last, it felt upon the 
 name of Captain Courtly Cutlass, his first astonish 
 ment found vent in a long-drawn whistle; but when 
 he had examined each particular flourish, he drew 
 himself up to his fullest height, and, assuming an 
 air of great severity and determination, requested 
 the landlord to pass him a glass of something, at 
 the same time to furnish pen and ink. 
 
 " If I can t beat," he exclaimed, " all creation at 
 this ere business," (meaning the business of in 
 diting autographs,) " my name s not Sam Spatter, 
 that s all ! " He disposed of the liquor in the 
 shortest possible time, and observed that he never 
 made mince meat of trifles, he did n t ! After try 
 ing the quality of his pen some five or six times, he 
 made sundry flourishes in the air, and worked the 
 quill round and round until it converged to a par 
 ticular spot on the paper, when he branched off 
 into very heavy strokes for the capitals, and very 
 fine hair lines for the small letters. Mr. Spatter s 
 
PAUL REDDING. 31 
 
 whole body labored. His head turned slowly from 
 side to side ; his mouth, too, kept in motion, as if 
 chewing the English language into the most con 
 venient shape for use. 
 
 " There ! " cried Mr. Spatter, when he had 
 finished, bringing his hand on his knee with a tre 
 mendous slap ; " there, blast the brass buttons off 
 my great grandfather s old blue coat, if that ere 
 do n t take the shine off of Captain Cutlass, then I 
 do n t know molasses and water from the best of 
 brandy, and it s my private opinion I could tell 
 either on em in the dark, and that s a fact." 
 
 " Yaw," said Mynheer, (perfectly convinced of 
 the truth of the last part of the assertion,) as he 
 laid the book aside. 
 
 " Hallo ! " cried Mr. Spatter, in a tone that 
 started both Mynheer and the youth. " Hallo ! 
 what s that ? " 
 
 " Vat s vat? " reiterated the landlord. 
 
 " The devil s at that ere winder, or I m no 
 judge ! " answered the other. The Dutchman 
 staggered into the farthest corner of the bar, per 
 fectly terrified ; and Paul Redding, not wishing to 
 be quartered so near the " old gentleman," retreated 
 across the room. " There he is ! " contined Mr. 
 Spatter, " do n t you see his eyes ? O dear, how 
 they do strike fire. Go way, you varmint ! 
 There there, he s coming in! why don t you do 
 something, somebody ? He s getting in at the 
 winder ! " The devil, as Mr. Spatter called the 
 stranger, proved to be the same wild person that 
 
32 PAUL REDDING. 
 
 Paul had encountered in the afternoon. His fierce 
 black eyes, for a moment, rested on the gentleman 
 in green glasses, and he exclaimed, " Bring me a 
 glass ! " 
 
 "Sartin, sartin," said Mr. Spatter, " it s shockin 
 dry weather down your way, I reckon ! what ll you 
 have ? " 
 
 " A looking-glass ! " said the stranger. 
 
 " What on arth do you want to see in a lookin - 
 glass ? " 
 
 " The devil ! " cried the fearful-looking man with 
 a shudder. 
 
 u I told you so, Mynheer ! I told you so, young 
 man ; he wants to see himself ! There s a glass 
 hanging there ; but you aint so handsome as to be 
 vain in your old days ! O, you need n t pull my 
 coat in that way, Speck, cause I aint afeared of the 
 old un, I aint ! Bat I say do n t you smell some 
 thing like brimstone ; kind of blue blazes like, eh ? 
 But see the crittur ! how he s shakin himself! and 
 now he s talkin to his shadow in the glass ! Wait 
 a minute, till I speak to him, though. Hem, the 
 brimstone kind of chokes one hem I say, my 
 good friend O, he likes to be called good, the 
 devil does ; there s a tender spot on all kinds of 
 animals ; tickle a bear and it won t eat you if it s 
 never so hungry ; so I 11 jest rub in a slice to kind 
 of civilize the old un. I say, my good friend, a 
 rain like this takes the curls out of one s hair 
 properly, doesn t it? It melts a leetle o the 
 stiffnin out o the best-lookin on us, I guess." 
 
PAUL REDDING. 33 
 
 " There he is, there, there ! do n t you see him ? " 
 exclaimed the mysterious man, pointing over his 
 left shoulder. 
 
 " Who ? " cried Mr. Spatter. 
 
 " The devil ! 0, he s an ugly devil ! Do n t you 
 see him ? look ! Do drive him away ! There he 
 is, there, at the other shoulder! Drive him away, 
 drive him away ! Nobody drives him away ! " 
 And the poor man ran backwards until he struck 
 the wall ; and then he laughed loud and fearfully. 
 But his wild, terrible mirth, soon subsided into a 
 low " he, he," and gazing on his hands, his black 
 eyes sparkled with delight. " There," said he, as 
 if he were talking to some one at his side, " there, 
 see how the little fellows do caper, ho, ho ! twenty 
 little devils play at leap frog, how they jump from 
 one hand to another ! But see ! ho, ho ! the whole 
 twenty are but two ! only two devils out of twenty, 
 he, he ! stop, look at them, one is an old man, 
 and one is a young man ; the old man lies down to 
 sleep the young man draws a dagger see, he 
 creeps up, look ! he stabs him robs him ! avaunt, 
 avaunt ! I ll see no more!" The poor man 
 trembled, his countenance was distorted with ter 
 ror; he shook his hands wildly in the air, and 
 then thrust them into the breast of his coat. 
 
 "I ll speak to him," said Paul, "I ll speak to 
 him kindly, poor man. Don t be frightened, friend, 
 there is nothing here to hurt you ; come sit down 
 and be calm, do ! " The stranger s countenance, 
 
34 PAUL REDDING. 
 
 as his eye fell on the speaker, settled into an 
 expression of wonder, and his answer was a long- 
 drawn " e-h ? " partly indicating that he had seen 
 the face before, and partly interrogatory. 
 
 " Come, sit down," continued Paul. 
 
 " What is your name ? " said the stranger, in a 
 low tone of voice. Paul hesitated until he saw the 
 big tears standing in the stranger s eyes, and he 
 answered, " Paul Redding." 
 
 "I thought so, I thought so! come near let 
 me look at you yes, your name is Paul Red 
 ding ! " and the man hid his face in his hands 
 and wept. Paul turned away deeply affected. Mr. 
 Spatter and the host looked on in mute astonish 
 ment. The mysterious stranger wiped his eyes 
 hurriedly, and casting a wild glance around the 
 room, rushed out of the door into the storm again, 
 which raged on with unabated fury. When Paul 
 retired to his room, that night, he sat down on the 
 side of the bed, in deep meditation. " How odd," 
 thought he ; " why did I feel so much interest in a 
 stranger? And why did he act so strangely in re 
 gard to me ? I am amazed that he should have 
 recognised me ; I cannot remember of ever having 
 seen the man before; and yet, there was some 
 thing in his countenance that seemed familiar ; 
 something that I have either dreamed of or seen 
 long, long ago. Poor man, how I pity him ! some 
 thing may happen to him in such a dark, stormy 
 night as this. The river is swollen, I can hear it 
 
PAUL REDDING. 35 
 
 roaring even from here. I wish that I knew where 
 to find Hark! somebody s at the door! who s 
 there ? " " Paul, Paul," said a low voice, " open 
 the door, don t be afraid." The young man at 
 once recognised the voice, and immediately ad 
 mitted the mysterious stranger. " I am glad that 
 you have come," said Paul, " very glad ; you shall 
 sleep in my bed to-night, and I will sit by and 
 watch you." " Good boy, good boy ! but I never 
 sleep at night the devil won t let me. There, 
 I 11 lean against the wall ; this is the only way that 
 I can rest at night. I do n t fear those ugly little 
 imps that dance before my eyes, no, no! but it s 
 that ugly, ugly fellow that sits on my back looking 
 over my shoulder into my face. Sometimes an 
 old man stands behind me, his long, white locks 
 all matted with blood, and skinny finger pointing to 
 a deep gash in his throat! O ! " The stranger hid 
 his face in his hands and groaned. " Do be calm ! " 
 said Paul, imploringly, " do be calm ; there is 
 nothing here at all like what you describe, indeed 
 there is not ! " 
 
 " You can t see them," said the poor man ; 
 " no, you are innocent, young, and happy, and they 
 all fly into my brain when you come near ! Yes, 
 they are in my brain, here, here, where, years ago, 
 they built a big fire that still keeps burning, burn 
 ing, burning ! But I won t frighten you, no, no, I 
 won t. Your name is Paul Redding I know it is. 
 I have the papers here ; but, let me see ; no, that 
 
36 PAUL REDDING. 
 
 must not be yet. The time has not yet come we 
 shall meet again. Paul, forgive me I forgot 
 we shall meet again ; then, perhaps, you will know. 
 No matter. They call me Fiery Fitful ; remem 
 ber that. It is a nickname ; perhaps I deserve it. 
 Well, no matter. Paul, farewell ; give me your 
 hand no, no ! don t ! I forgot farewell, Paul, 
 farewell." The strange man hurried away, leaving 
 the youth perfectly bewildered. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 " Seven daughters had Lord Archibald, 
 All children of one mother." 
 
 WORDSWORTH. 
 
 ON the following morning, the warlike gentleman 
 sallied forth to view the beautiful, though rather 
 muddy village, and to pay his respects to the im 
 portant personage, who had sent him his card on 
 the previous evening. Mr. Littleworth was at home 
 to the warlike gentleman, and was delighted to em 
 brace the opportunity of making the acquaintance 
 of so distinguished an individual, although he, to 
 speak truth, had never heard of the warlike gentle 
 man before. However, that was nothing; the 
 captain s name was a sufficient guarantee of his 
 nobility. Mr. Littleworth loved any thing that 
 smacked of aristocracy, notwithstanding his declara 
 tions about his thorough democracy to his con- 
 
PAUL REDDING. 37 
 
 stituents. He claimed some of the first men who 
 have ever lived as his ancestors, and should any 
 one require it, he could trace his genealogy back, 
 almost, if not quite, as far as to the greatest man of 
 his time, namely, Noah. Mrs. Timothy Little- 
 worth was, in every way, her husband s equal, not 
 even excepting in size of body. In fact, Mr. Little- 
 worth looked upon her as the most astonishing 
 woman in the country. He would frequently say 
 that Mrs. L. s beauty was not alone comprised in 
 her face and form ; but her intellect was equally 
 gigantic and beautiful. Besides, she was born in 
 France, and being a very distant relative to Napo 
 leon, he felt that he was not going too far, when 
 he acknowledged that he held her in divine admira 
 tion. She conversed in English quite as well as in 
 French, and in Italian quite as well as either. In 
 truth, she spoke all of the useful languages beauti 
 fully, giving the accent of each to perfection. And 
 his daughters, too ; their mother had taught them 
 the different languages. He was happy to say that 
 they promised to equal, in every way, their more 
 than talented parent. Mr. Littleworth had no less 
 than seven daughters, averaging from two to sixteen 
 years of age. Mr. L. left the warlike gentleman 
 to amuse himself with the books and prints, while 
 he hurried to the nursery to inform his precocious 
 daughters, that a very great man was to dine there, 
 and they must each try and improve by his ex 
 ample they must watch him closely at table, 
 and imitate all of his graces. 
 
38 PAUL REDDING. 
 
 " Remember, my daughters," he said, " remem 
 ber, and be an ornament to your papa, and an 
 honor to your mamma. You, Napoleana, be very 
 proper ; there s no knowing what may grow out of 
 a very small circumstance. It has always been 
 your papa s saying, my dears, that great events 
 turn on remarkably small pivots. And you, 
 Josephine, Maria Louisa, Austerlitziana, Lodina, 
 Elbaena, and my sweet little Helena, you are to sit 
 at the table with a nobleman ! Just think of it ! 
 Do remember, and be very proper." 
 
 " Oh yes, papa ! " 
 
 "And remember, Napoleana, if he addresses 
 you in French, answer the gentleman promptly and 
 sweetly as possible, for, as your papa has said 
 before, there s no knowing what may grow out of 
 a small circumstance." 
 
 The daughter addressed replied " we, papa," and 
 " we, papa " passed from mouth to mouth, like the 
 running of the upper octave of a flute, the last little 
 note winding off with a very sharp screech. Ah ! 
 that was a proud time for Mr. Littleworth. " Cap 
 tain," said he, as he entered the parlor again, " I 
 trust that you have been amused. Here are some 
 of the first engravings of the age ; but it is needless, 
 however, that I should tell a gentleman of your 
 taste such a thing. These are all English prints. 
 There, sir, that is a likeness of George the Fourth, 
 if you have never seen his likeness. Oh ! I ask 
 your pardon, you have seen it then, in London. 
 
PAUL REDDING. 39 
 
 Large city that London ! I correspond with several 
 of the greatest men of that metropolis. Here is a 
 likeness of Scott quite a clever man English 
 I mean. Oh ! ah ! you ve seen that before. But 
 here, sir, here this picture did you observe 
 this ? It is a picture of Napoleon crossing the 
 Alps, executed by David, pronounced Dah-vede in 
 French. Yes, I presumed you knew the fact, but 
 all do not ! Ah ! sir, I pray you think nothing of 
 my weakness, excuse it but I never look upon 
 this picture of Bonaparte, on the island of St. 
 Helena, without dropping a tear to his memory. 
 You may think this weakness yes, I knew you 
 would well, then, sir, for your sake I will not 
 contemplate that picture at present. Here, sir, if 
 you are fond of wit, here are the works of the 
 greatest humorist of his age. There, take a seat, 
 you can t understand them in a moment, they are 
 so far in advance of the age ! They are generally 
 political pieces, hits at the administration. You 
 will not understand them allow me to explain. 
 Ah ! here on the first page we have the likeness of 
 the artist himself, Christopher Scrapp, Esq. ; fine 
 intellectual face that ; the small twinkling eye in 
 dicative of wit ; how expressive the nose is, turned 
 slightly up, showing his sneering disposition to a 
 charm. Were it not for the hair, sir, you would 
 observe what a forehead he has. I advised Mr. 
 Scrapp to have it shaved, a thing frequently done. 
 He writes me in his last letter that he has followed 
 
40 PAUL REDDING. 
 
 the suggestion, and thanks me for the advice. He 
 is a wonderful man. By the way, I will give you 
 his address ; mention my name, that will be sufficient. 
 Observe that figure; you do n t understand it, I pre 
 sume not, but, sir, that picture produced an alarm 
 ing excitement. It represents a figure standing on 
 its head ; there are the two legs up in the air ; the 
 feet are rather large, but that is a part of Mr. 
 Scrapp s style, one of his peculiarities. The figure 
 is allegorical ; it represents the present condition of 
 the administration ; capital ! is n t it ? That book, 
 sir, has done more for my cause in this town than 
 you could imagine. Those spirited satires, sir, 
 when I held them up to the people, and gave them 
 the proper explanations, the effect was miraculous ; 
 unlike other senseless satires, they were not laughed 
 at. No ! there is too much truth, sir, and whenever 
 I presented them, a solemn silence pervaded the 
 spectators. I have the greatest admiration for the 
 genius of my friend Scrapp. His illustrations of 
 Mother Goose give general satisfaction among the 
 smaller members of my family. Ah ! yes sir, I 
 look upon this artist as one of the greatest benefac 
 tors of his age, if in nothing else than amusing les 
 enfans" 
 
 In this manner did Mr. Timothy Littleworth 
 entertain his distinguished visiter until the dinner- 
 hour, when he conducted the captain into the 
 dining-room, where was presented a formidable 
 array of young Littleworths, each having her hair 
 
PAUL REDDING. 41 
 
 done into two long stiff braids, tied over with any 
 quantity of blue ribbon, arranged into very system 
 atic bow-knots. 
 
 "Allow me to introduce my daughters. Miss 
 Napoleana, Captain Cutlass ; Josephine, Maria 
 Louisa, Austerlitziana, Lodina, and these two are 
 the youngest, Elbaena and Helena. Be seated, 
 captain, there, if you please, opposite my eldest. 
 Ah ! here comes madam. Madam Littleworth, 
 Captain Cutlass." Now the lady L. was enormous 
 ly fat, and as she waddled into the room, her 
 appearance was almost too much for the rigid 
 risibilities of the warlike gentleman. She bowed, 
 for who ever saw a fat woman courtesy ? No one, 
 I imagine in fact, it would be hazardous. 
 
 "Bon apres midi Monsieur," said the lady, 
 taking a seat next to her husband. 
 
 " I am vere mush glad to have ze pleasure, oui. 
 You are in ze ze armee ? " The captain 
 bowed, and the young ladies bowed. 
 
 " You have been in ze battle, eh, Monsieur ? " 
 The warlike gentleman coughed, and replied that it 
 was warm, oppressively so. 
 
 " Oui, oui, you have been in oppressive warm 
 battle ! Vere you ever shot ? " 
 
 " Hem ! no, not exactly shot, that is, slightly 
 wounded." 
 
 " Indeed ! Where ? " 
 
 "Ah! hem! it happened in a a vessel, 
 madam a sea engagement." 
 
42 PAUL REDDING. 
 
 " Oh ! possible ? in ze blood vessel ? " 
 
 " Oh ! ah ! yes, rather a bloody vessel, just at 
 that time." 
 
 " But where is ze wound ? Do let me see ze 
 wound." 
 
 The captain was confused, and could make no 
 reply for some time. At last he observed, that the 
 wound could not be discerned very easily. 
 
 " My daughters ! " whispered Mr. Littleworth, 
 shaking his head and frowning forbiddingly, " hush ! " 
 
 " The fact is, madam," continued the warlike 
 gentleman "The fact is, a confounded piece of 
 lead came very abruptly just across my chin, and 
 dislocated several individual members of my im 
 perial ; a very serious loss, I assure you." 
 
 "Ah ! captain," continued Mrs. Littleworth, as 
 she emptied a dish of chicken salad on her plate ; 
 " Come, captain, tell some more about ze war, just 
 to amuse ze daughters, do." 
 
 " Oh, do, do, do ! " cried two or three of the 
 young Littleworths. 
 
 " My children, be silent ! " said Mr. L., firmly. 
 " Elbaena, my daughter, take that soup dish off of 
 your head ; papa will you send right away from the 
 table. Helena, dear, take her fingers out of the 
 butter-plate ; she should n t do so, pet." 
 
 "A battle is a very dreadful thing," said the 
 captain, wiping the moisture frpm his mustaches. 
 "A very dreadful thing. You Americans know 
 nothing of the horrors of war, nothing. I hope you 
 will not. War is a dreadful thing." 
 
PAUL REDDING. 43 
 
 " Oui oui so I tink, so I have tell my hus 
 band one, three, several times. He sail nevare go 
 to war. Eh, mon cher ? " 
 
 " Yes, frequently, my dear. Ah ! she is very 
 affectionate always in this beautiful serene spirit 
 of tenderness that you now behold her in. Oh, 
 is n t it delightful ? " 
 
 " Exceedingly." 
 
 " Napoleon was a vere great war-man, captain, 
 eh ? " 
 
 " Yes, clever." 
 
 "A vere great war-man, I say ! " 
 
 " Circumstances, you know, did every thing for 
 him." 
 
 " I do n t know ze man Circumstanz, but I nevare 
 tink of Waterloo wizout saying, Mon Dieu ! " 
 
 " Oh, my dear," said Mr. L. 
 
 " Yes, you know, husband, ve hot hate dem 
 Englishmen like ze " 
 
 "Hush sh sh!" 
 
 " Vot for hush ? Do n t tell me hush ! I nevare 
 was told hush ! I love my country, and hate ze 
 English like, like " 
 
 " Madam," said the captain, " I look upon Napo 
 leon as the greatest curse that ever fell upon the 
 world ! " 
 
 " Sare, you are not gentleman ! " screamed Mrs. 
 Littleworth, coloring deeply up to the very edges 
 of her wig, and as much farther as you may choose 
 to imagine. " You are von grand coward ! " 
 
44 PAUL REDDING. 
 
 " Was it to be insulted, madam, that I permitted 
 my person to grace your table ? " exclaimed the 
 warlike gentleman, rising. 
 
 " Grace MY table ! You are disgrace, sare ! " 
 
 " I 11 not be insulted ! Mr. Littleworth, you 
 shall answer for this. We gentlemen of standing 
 always go prepared to repel injury remember 
 that ! " roared the captain. 
 
 " Mrs. Littleworth, Oh ! Mrs. Littleworth, you will 
 be my ruin ! " exclaimed the trembling husband. 
 
 " Ha ! such words to me ! " screamed the lady 
 at the top of her voice, " Ha ! ha ! " The three 
 youngest Littleworths caught up the scream of the 
 infuriated mother, and clenching their little fists, at 
 arms length, and shutting their eyes very tight, 
 prolonged it. 
 
 " I 11 do something dreadful, Mr. Littleworth ! 
 I 11 be the death of you ! " cried the warlike gen 
 tleman, as he left the apartment. It was in vain 
 that Mr. Littleworth followed him to the door, and 
 implored his pardon ; for the warlike gentleman 
 was neither butter nor sugar, and therefore would 
 not melt. When Mr. Littleworth returned to the 
 room, he found the young ladies undergoing certain 
 gymnastic exercises with their enraged mamma, not 
 altogether pleasant, which performance being over, 
 Mrs. Littleworth, with great determination, seated 
 herself upon the table, unmindful of cracking plates 
 and squashing contents, placed her arms akimbo, 
 and, gazing around on her husband and progeny, 
 
PAUL REDDING. 45 
 
 she felt, not for the first time either, that she was 
 " monarch of all she surveyed ; her right there was 
 none to dispute." 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 The crowded streets are gay ; 
 
 But with melancholy mood, 
 Amid the thronging solitude 
 
 The stranger wends his way. 
 
 THERE was a great bustle at the Half-way House ; 
 the stage-coach had arrived, and was in readiness 
 to start again. The inside passengers, as usual, 
 were all impatience. Heads of various qualities of 
 beauty, were continuously popping in and out, as 
 though they were machines worked by so many 
 wires. One fat old lady concluded at first that it 
 was not worth while to get out of the coach, but 
 when it was about to start, she thought she would 
 get out ; but just then the horses started a few paces 
 on, and the good lady was jolted back into a very 
 nervous old gentleman s lap ; the old lady muttered 
 something about some people occupying all the 
 seat ; and did wish that somebody would see to her 
 bandbox, for she was sure it had dropt off, ever so 
 many miles back on the road ; she did wish that the 
 driver would look after it, he could n t help know 
 ing it, for it was tied up with a blue checkered 
 handkerchief, and contained her best bonnet, be- 
 
46 PAUL REDDING. 
 
 side a bundle of water-crackers, and a half pound of 
 good home-made cheese. But it was n t any use 
 of talking, she knew that, and always knew it ! 
 Paul Redding had engaged a place on the outside 
 of the coach by the driver, and when he was about 
 mounting into his seat, Mynheer Speckuncrout 
 very slyly slipped something into the young man s 
 pocket, and, shaking him heartily by the hand, wished 
 him success. The ruddy-cheeked coachman 
 cracked his whip, and the horses started briskly off. 
 " Remember," cried the good-natured host, 
 pointing to the sign, " when you come this way, 
 remember der Half-way House ! " The young 
 man nodded his head, and would have replied 
 verbally, but they were already far down the road. 
 By five o clock they were at the " Spread Eagle," 
 by eight, they were crossing the Schuylkill bridge, 
 and by nine, Paul was traversing the very regular 
 streets of the Quaker city. He walked down 
 Market street and up Chestnut, gazing, as all 
 strangers are wont to do, at the curiosities in the 
 shop-windows. At one time he stood before a 
 jeweller s store, where were displayed more silver 
 plate, gold watches, and queer, fantastic clocks, than 
 he had ever dreamed of. Farther along was a 
 bookstore, where were emblazoned immense pla 
 cards, announcing the last new novel by Mr. Some 
 body, Esq. ; Madame What s-her-name s works on 
 political economy ; Man as he is ; Medicine in 
 general and anatomy in particular. Mr. What-do- 
 
PAUL REDDING. 47 
 
 ye-call-him s advice to the young ; advice to mar 
 ried ladies, and directions for the nursery. Here 
 was spread, to a crowd of ragged admiring urchins, 
 the last great works of the renowned Christopher 
 Scrapp, Esq. ! " Here," thought Paul, " is to be 
 seen one of those revolutions which that quaint old 
 gentleman, Time, brings about. While Madame 
 What s-her-name s works on political economy, &c., 
 are emblazoned forth, old Adam Smith lies neglect 
 ed on the shelves, enveloped in dust. Now Mr. 
 What-do-ye-call-him has dropped the badges of 
 manhood, turned the women out of the nursery, and 
 dandles the children on his knee to the tune of 
 4 high diddle diddle ! " " Well," continued Paul, 
 " if this state of things prevails in the city, I shall 
 fain wish myself back in the quiet simple country 
 again, where at least the women nurse their own 
 children, and the farmers pursue their occupation 
 without female direction." The thought of the 
 country suggested again to the young man the con 
 sciousness of his abject situation. " Here," said 
 he, " I am in this large city, without friends and 
 without money ! Here industry and knavery 
 flourish cheek by jowl. The frivolous and thought 
 ful, rich and poor, honest and dishonest, hurry along 
 in one promiscuous crowd, a?/, perhaps, more com 
 fortable than I. The most abandoned wretch may 
 have one friend to speak kindly to him, and shield 
 him for the night ; the most ragged urchin in the 
 street may have a kind-hearted mother who rejoices 
 
48 PAUL REDDING. 
 
 at the return of her son, although he may come to 
 eat the only remaining crust ! Heaven ! gracious 
 heaven ! why am I an orphan ? I am here walled 
 in with houses, I pass an almost interminable row 
 of doors, yet all are closed to me ; and many a bed 
 to-night will remain untouched, while I but no 
 more of that ; what right have I to expect any thing 
 of strangers ? they know not me nor I them. If I 
 sleep in the street, the watchmen will surely not 
 murder me ; if I am robbed, the thief will not be 
 much enriched nor I much impoverished." Thus 
 ruminated Paul, as he stepped into a small res 
 taurateur. Among the promiscuous assemblage of 
 persons regaling themselves on various articles of 
 food and liquor, two persons in particular attracted 
 his attention. One was a little shrivelled-up Qua 
 ker ; and the other was a short, robust, ill-looking 
 individual, with very jagged features ; an iron hook, 
 that was appended to his elbow, did service in the 
 place of his right hand ; and with that he toyed 
 carelessly with the different articles before him, on 
 the table, the use of the hook seeming to have be 
 come a second nature. Paul gazed at the man a 
 moment, and a shudder ran over him, for he felt 
 that he had seen that ugly countenance before ; but 
 where, he could not at that moment recollect. 
 When a plate of oysters was set before the two 
 men, the little Quaker rolled his eyes up to the 
 ceiling and looked very devout, then turning them 
 down again, he gazed around on the company, as 
 
PAUL REDDING. 49 
 
 if to take them to witness that he was a pious man 
 and thankful for the smallest favors ! 
 
 Paul took a seat and looked over the morning 
 news. His eye met the lists of "wants," and feeling 
 in his pocket for a scrap of paper to note down the 
 number of two or three of what seemed to be 
 desirable places, he found a queer wad stowed 
 away in one corner, and carefully opening it, dis 
 covered, much to his astonishment, the self-same 
 money that he had paid to the host of the Half-way 
 House. Paul was at first delighted, and then 
 mortified, that he had been an object of charity ; 
 yet he was grateful, for he felt how disinterested 
 were the motives of the benevolent giver. " This," 
 thought Paul, " this, will I remember, that the most 
 needy stand not always with open mouths. The 
 ice-bound stream is noiseless; but the greedy 
 brooks, the more they are filled the more they cry 
 aloud." Our hero was about rising from his seat, 
 when a gentleman, who was handling pencil and 
 paper on the opposite side of the room, begged him 
 to sit still, if it was but for a moment. " I have 
 something of interest to communicate to you pres 
 ently," said the stranger, and in a few moments he 
 seated himself beside the astonished youth. "I 
 have been making a sketch of you. I hope you will 
 take no offence, none intended,! assure you ; but as 
 you sat here with that bundle, your appearance struck 
 me as exceedingly picturesque. Here is the sketch, 
 very hastily done, yet there s character in it, eh ? " 
 
50 PAUL REDDING. 
 
 Paul was evidently not pleased at first, but when he 
 examined the picture he saw nothing there that 
 might not have been drawn from any one else in 
 the establishment, and feeling assured that no one 
 could ever imagine him as the original, he replied 
 that he was quite happy if he had been of any 
 service to the artist. " Of service ! " reiterated the 
 stranger, talking through his nose. " You have 
 been of vast service. I have been for the last fort 
 night on the lookout for you ; yes, sir, for you ; I 
 saw you in my mind s eye. A place like this is 
 the best in the world for characters. I visit here 
 nightly, not to eat or drink, as my enemies have 
 insinuated, but to make sketches. Hogarth was in 
 the habit of doing the same ; he used to draw 
 figures upon his thumb-nail. The smallness of the 
 space must have cramped his genius. I have tried 
 it, but I make so many drawings in an evening that 
 I found it impossible to follow the example of that 
 great man. This sketch, I will tell you in perfect 
 confidence, is to illustrate a look : yes, sir, a book. 
 You have heard of Inkleton, the poet ? never heard 
 of Ichabod Inkleton, the poet ! You amaze me ! 
 Well, you see he is now engaged on a great work ; 
 he undertook it by my advice ; and that great work 
 I am illustrating. It will make a tremendous sen 
 sation, you may depend. The book will be in six 
 volumes, entitled A travesty on John Bunyan s 
 Pilgrim s Progress, by Ichabod Inkleton, with illus 
 trations by Christopher Scrapp, Esq. Now, sir, 
 
PAUL REDDING. 51 
 
 you will understand why I drew this figure. Do 
 you observe that short, fat gentleman sitting at yon 
 der table ? " " The one with the very red nose ? " 
 said Paul. " Well, yes, his nose is rather red ; you 
 understand who I mean that interesting-looking 
 individual, with the broad collar thrown open." 
 " Oh yes, I see," replied Paul, " the man with sore 
 eyes who is stirring his liquor with his finger." 
 " I say, my boy, pass my friend Inkleton a spoon. 
 Well, my young friend, that gentleman as you 
 understand, is the poet ; yes, sir, the first poet of our 
 country. I shall do you the honor of an introduc 
 tion. You will find his conversation not only in 
 structive but amusing. His thoughts are always 
 beautiful, and his language is always poetry. He 
 frequently couches his observations in verse ; you 
 would be delighted to hear him at such times. I 
 thought that there was something of the vein about 
 him this evening ; you may be fortunate enough to 
 hear him. Mr. Inkleton is always delighted to 
 make the acquaintance of any one whom I recom 
 mend to him, because he feels and knows that he 
 owes much, if not all of his great popularity, to my 
 influence. Come, we will approach him. Inky, 
 my friend, here is a young man, the original of this 
 sketch ; permit him to linger in the same air which 
 your greatness breathes." " My dear Scrapp, let 
 me embrace you," said Mr. Inkleton, attempting to 
 rise, which act Mr. S. prevented, and embraced 
 him where he sat. " My dear Scrapp," continued 
 
52 PAUL REDDING. 
 
 the poet and he shook hands with Paul over the 
 artist s back "my dear Scrapp, t is thus I fain 
 would clasp your friend, your wife, or daughter ; 
 hand me a glass, my boy, of gin, without the water. 
 Forgive me, Scrapp, you know my love is quite 
 Platonic. But let that pass, and lake a glass of 
 inspiration, called Byronic. Join us, young man, 
 and and " " I never drink," answered Paul. 
 " He is modest," said "Mr. Scrapp, " and never 
 drinks, I presume, unless he is permitted to call on 
 the liquor himself." " I drink nothing intoxicating, 
 sir, under any circumstances," replied the young 
 man, coloring. " I wish to know, Mr. Scrapp, if I 
 understood you rightly ; you introduced this young 
 man as a friend of yours ?" " No, sir, not as friend, 
 but as the original of this sketch.-" "Ah, yes, that 
 explains it ; otherwise, young man, that last observa 
 tion of yours would have been mysterious fact; I 
 assure you, I am serious." " The evening is far 
 advanced," said Paul. "Accept my thanks for 
 your attentions ; good night, gentlemen." " Good 
 night," said Inkleton, " we 11 excuse you, nor lose 
 much neither when we lose you." Our hero took 
 lodging for the night at the sign of the " Bull s 
 Head," a quiet inn, situated in Strawberry alley. 
 He had there, he thought, a bed very much more 
 agreeable than he could possibly bring himself to 
 think could be found in the softest stall in the whole 
 market-house. 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 The eagle and the hawk may strive 
 
 Amid the upper air ; 
 But wherefore, tell me, wherefore should 
 
 The tender dove be there ? 
 
 ON the evening of the following day, in an old 
 building, situated at the corner of Strawberry and 
 Trotter s alleys, there sat two of our principal char 
 acters ; one at least worthy of considerable atten 
 tion, as he proved to be no other than the mysterious 
 personage, that has already been described as Fiery 
 Fitful, so called. He was seated at a little square 
 table, over which he leaned with his brow resting on 
 his hand ; his face was more pale and haggard 
 than it had yet appeared ; his eyes were deep sunken, 
 but had lost none of the lustre of their piercing 
 blackness ; and he only raised them at intervals to 
 gaze at his companion, but his look was that of one 
 who carried a broken heart, and as he turned his 
 eyes away, the language of inward agony was 
 given in a deep sigh a sigh near akin to a groan. 
 Could we at all times comprehend the burden of a 
 sigh, what mysteries would be unfolded, what sad 
 thoughts, what heart-rending sorrow, what awful 
 deeds, appealing to our sympathies, our tears, and 
 our prayers ! But no ; the heart is a strange book, 
 only intelligible to the wakeful eye of the spirit, 
 that hidden priest who ever chants the psalrns of 
 joy or sorrow in the sanctuary of the breast. At 
 
54 PAUL REDDING. 
 
 times, however, some response of that chant rises 
 to the lips, like the distant sound of an organ peal, 
 conveying the feeling though in a mysterious lan 
 guage ; and the- features answer to its changes, as 
 the stream gives back the clear sky, or the rum 
 bling thunder-cloud. 
 
 Heaven alone heard the slow, solemn, and sor 
 rowful psalm of the poor spirit that ministered in 
 the breast of Fitful s companion. A pale female, 
 the remnant of a once beautiful woman, but now 
 prematurely shadowed with the veil of age, sat on 
 the opposite side of the small room. She was 
 dressed in one of those old-fashioned drab cloaks, 
 the plain hood answering the place of a bonnet. 
 Her hair that had once been of a flaxen color 
 touched with gold, was now sadly mixed with gray, 
 and hung carelessly over her brow and temples. 
 Her hands were clasped listlessly together on her 
 lap, and as she leant forward her pale blue eyes 
 gazed vacantly on the walls, and her whole face 
 was so entirely blank, you could not but think 
 that some blighting sorrow had chilled the senses, 
 and thus swept every vestige of expression from 
 her countenance. Such, indeed, had been her 
 sorrow, and such the result. 
 
 " Poor woman ! " thought Fitful, as he heaved a 
 bitter sigh, " poor woman, God knows what she has 
 suffered ! Of what a lovely thing is she the wreck ! 
 O, it drives me mad to think of it could she but 
 wake up from that horrible lethargy, if i^ were but 
 
PAUL REDDING. 55 
 
 for the space of an hour, that I might tell her of 
 the fires that are consuming me, and would bear it 
 all, how calmly. But now, it is as though I had 
 cursed my mother and she had died, while yet the 
 words were in the air, leaving me unforgiven, with 
 the unnatural crime forever recoiling upon my own 
 head. Nothing in man s great book of calamities 
 could be more terrible, except what I now see 
 before me! But I must speak to her Mary, 
 Mary, I say " " Did you speak ? " said the poor 
 woman, turning upon Fitful the same expression 
 less face. " Yes, Mary, I was about to tell you 
 that the boy has arrived in the city." 
 
 " I had a boy once," replied she. " I remem 
 ber him yet." Ah, yes, what force of circum 
 stances ever compelled a mother to forget her 
 child ? Through the heaviest mist that wraps the 
 dulled senses, or the blackest clouds of adversity, 
 the mother s remembrance of her child come star- 
 like ; yes, amid all this, 
 
 " A mother is a mother still, 
 The holiest thing alive." 
 
 " But I was agoing to tell you," resumed the 
 man, " I was agoing to tell you, that Paul is in 
 town." 
 
 " Paul, Paul," said she, slowly, " yes, I like 
 that name my father s name was Paul; he was 
 an old man; his hair was quite white very like 
 my own yes, I think sometimes, that I look like 
 him look as he did when he was dead very 
 
56 PAUL REDDING. 
 
 pale ; but I did n t see him then no, no, I did n t 
 see him then." 
 
 " Gracious heaven ! " groaned Fitful, covering 
 his face in his hands ; at last he started, as if im 
 pelled by some irresistible power, and gazing 
 wildly around, he was about to give vent to words 
 that seemed struggling for utterance, when a slight 
 knocking was heard at the door ; Fitful in a mo 
 ment recoiled within himself, and assumed his 
 usual composure, if, indeed, at any time he might 
 be said to be composed. The manner in which a 
 person demands entrance by the common mode of 
 rapping on the door with the knuckle or any similar 
 instrument, is as good an index perhaps to the 
 character of an individual as almost any of their 
 other external actions ; not only may you judge of 
 their usual peculiarities, but more especially of the 
 present mood by which they are actuated. Such 
 was the case in the present instance. Fitful in 
 voluntarily contracted his brows and gazed for a 
 moment angrily towards the door, his fierce black 
 eyes seemed to penetrate the panels, and to survey 
 the stranger with an unwelcome look of recognition. 
 The sly, crafty knock, if such an epithet may be 
 applied to a sound, was repeated, and the person 
 was admitted. Nathaniel Munson, (for such was 
 the name of the intruder,) was a little shrivelled-up 
 old man, dressed in Quaker garb ; his very small 
 gray eyes twinkled very sharply from beneath 
 jagged eyebrows, and his thin Roman nose came 
 
FAUL REDDING. 57 
 
 into close proximity with his peaked chin, which 
 was half buried in the thick loose folds of his 
 white neck handkerchief, the latter being the only 
 article about him that wore the appearance of 
 amplitude or freedom. 
 
 "How does thee do, John?" exclaimed the 
 Quaker, rubbing his hard, bony hands together, as 
 if he enjoyed the feeling, since he knew that the 
 sharp knuckles and lank fingers betrayed no very 
 great extravagance in his mode of living. " Ah," 
 thought he, as he hid a malicious grin by burying 
 his face deep in his neck-cloth, and gazed toward 
 the woman who was scarcely yet conscious of his 
 presence, "Ah, ha! she is here, eh! perhaps with 
 some complaint of ill usage, or something of that 
 sort, eh? Well, well, we ll stop this communica 
 tion one of these days." His thoughts, however, 
 were not deep enough to be concealed from the 
 searching gaze of Fitful, who read the Quaker s 
 mind in his countenance as easily as though it had 
 been a book. Munson quailed beneath the fiery 
 indignation of Fitful s eye, while the latter led the 
 woman to the door, and giving her to understand 
 that they must part for the present, bade her good 
 night. "Now, sir," said he, turning to the old 
 man, who had betaken himself to a seat, "Now, 
 sir, may I be informed as to what circumstances I 
 am indebted for the honor of this call ? " 
 
 " Law, bless me, John," said the Quaker, smiling 
 sarcastically, " Law, thee is so polite ! " 
 4 
 
58 PAUL REDDING. 
 
 " Well, then," answered the other, " to be less 
 polite and more to the purpose, what in the devil s 
 name brings your hideous skeleton here, to-night ? " 
 
 Here Nathaniel Munson dropped his face 
 deeper than before into his neck-cloth, and gave 
 vent to a half-smothered " he, he." " You well 
 know," continued Fitful, " that I had rather see the 
 foulest ghost that ever troubled the perpetrator of 
 the blackest crime that man or demon could com 
 mit, than stand for a moment in your loathsome 
 presence ! " The Quaker made no other reply 
 to this speech than a mere nervous working of his 
 fingers, as if he were, in imagination, strangling 
 some hateful enemy. 
 
 " Like an evil vine, you wove your wily schemes 
 about me until my whole existence was poisoned 
 by them ; and now you come to glut your odious 
 eyes upon me, blasted as I am in the very prime of 
 manhood ! " 
 
 " It was your own willing act," at last answered 
 Munson, emphatically, dropping the personal pro 
 noun " thee " for another more broad and expres 
 sive; " you did it, and I have kept your secret." 
 
 " Yes, you have kept the secret, and wisely, 
 since you know that the scaffold which the law 
 would build for me would be sufficiently ample to 
 accommodate two of us." 
 
 " No, no, not my throat," said the old man, as 
 he adjusted the handkerchief about his neck, " not 
 
PAUL REDDING. 59 
 
 Fitful smiled contemptuously, and seating him 
 self opposite to the Quaker, requested, very mildly, 
 that Nathaniel Munson would make known his 
 business without further delay ; or, if his business 
 was of no particular importance, to at once take 
 his leave, and in future be careful and not cross his 
 (FitfuPs) path too often. 
 
 " O, yes, I 11 take care of that," replied Munson, 
 striving to appear very good-natured ; and added, 
 again going back to the Quaker mode of expres 
 sion, which he invariably used when he engaged in 
 any dissimulation, " Thee seems somewhat vexed, 
 John ; I trust thee is not angry with me ? " 
 
 " Your business, I say, again," answered Fitful, 
 impatiently. 
 
 "Very well, we will to business, then, if thee 
 will have it so," replied the old man. " Thee 
 knows that thy strange behavior hath drawn many 
 eyes toward thee; many inquiries and unpleasant 
 conjectures are bandied from mouth to mouth even 
 now through the city ; thee knows this, eh ? " 
 "Well well goon." 
 
 "Thee knows," continued Munson, "that should 
 any clue be got to a certain transaction, thee knows 
 what foul disgrace would forever stigmatize certain 
 innocent persons nearly connected with thee, eh ? " 
 " Yes, yes," answered Fitful, " and I know, too, 
 that in that case certain persons who are not quite 
 so innocent would be placed in rather an un 
 pleasant situation ; but go on." 
 
 " Therefore it is desirous," pursued the Quaker, 
 
60 PAUL REDDING. 
 
 " that thy appearance here should no longer awake 
 the suspicions of these curious people." 
 
 "And therefore it is desirous," answered the 
 other, sneeringly, " that I should go and drown 
 myself." 
 
 " O, no, by no means ; thee mistakes my friend 
 ship," replied Munson, while a fiendish expression 
 of cunning played over his features. " Thee 
 knows, or ought to know, that I have always been 
 a friend to thee and thine." 
 
 " Cease your hypocritical jargon," said Fitful, 
 angrily, " but proceed with your business." 
 
 " What I am about to propose," continued the 
 other, " will in no way compromise thy own safety 
 or peace of mind, but rather add to it, and espe 
 cially secure the quietude of those so nearly con 
 nected with thee ; those whom thee cares most for, 
 I mean," added he, as he saw a scowl gathering 
 over the face of his companion. 
 
 " A vessel of mine is in port, and will sail again 
 in three or four weeks, to make a voyage of a few 
 months ; now I thought, perhaps, that thee might 
 like to take a trip in her, and, by so doing, thee 
 would be enabled to see new scenes in other coun 
 tries that would brighten thee up and make a new 
 man of thee, eh ? " 
 
 " I 11 think of it," answered Fitful, musingly ; 
 " and, in the meantime, I desire to be left alone, 
 that is if you have finished your business ; therefore 
 leave no, stay ; I forgot to say to you what I 
 know will give you great pleasure to hear the 
 
PAUL REDDING. 61 
 
 boy Paul is in town." As Fitful said this, Munson 
 started as though he had suddenly encountered a 
 ghost ; and then he contracted his brows heavily, 
 thrust his chin very deep into his neckcloth, and 
 stood gazing thoughtfully at the floor. At last he 
 murmured, half inaudibly, " He, then, is the first 
 incumbrance to be got rid of." 
 
 "What are you muttering about?" exclaimed 
 Fitful. 
 
 " O, I was just thinking what employment we 
 could give him ; we must do something for him, 
 thee knows." 
 
 " Well, sir," said the other, waving his hand for 
 Munson to leave, "I will send the boy to you, 
 to-morrow, since you are so solicituous about his 
 welfare. So, now that is settled for the present, 
 go ! " As he said this, the door closed heavily at 
 the back of Nathaniel Munson, who pursued his 
 way moodily to his own dwelling. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 * The departed ! the departed ! 
 
 They visit us in dreams, 
 And they glide above our memories, 
 
 Like shadows over streams." 
 
 PARK BENJAMIN. 
 
 THE reader may imagine Paul Redding being 
 seated in the comfortable old-fashioned bar-room of 
 the " Bull s Head." There are coats and hats of 
 
PAUL REDDING. 
 
 every shape and quality decorating the walls ; 
 here is the broad-brimmed, furless hat of the 
 Quaker; there the long whip and weather-beaten 
 overcoat of the wagoner. All of these bespeak the 
 character of the house, which is a sort of country 
 inn, for the accommodation of the good, homely- 
 minded market people, who make a weekly, month 
 ly, or half-yearly tour to the city with their produce, 
 from the rich old counties of Lancaster and Ches 
 ter. Many years ago, when but a child, we well 
 remember with what admiration, nay, almost awe, 
 we then gazed at the bull s head on the swinging 
 sign-board ; the mad eye, the foam dropping from 
 the mouth, seemed to be the highest reach of art ; 
 and the chain around his neck appeared to be a 
 very necessary appendage. But we must return 
 to the youth. The reader may now imagine what 
 was Paul s surprise to encounter the same strange, 
 person, that but a day or two since, he had first 
 met in the neighborhood of an obscure village, 
 some thirty miles back in the country. The 
 stranger s air was now less terrific, his eyes less 
 wild, and his dress less peculiar, not to say fantastic ; 
 but his face bore still that same haggard hue, and 
 there was something yet sufficiently strange in his 
 manner to make him attract the attention of most 
 persons, and elicit queer conjectures from the more 
 curious. Fitful was keenly sensible of this. The 
 glance of every eye annoyed him, and he inter 
 preted every whisper to be some surmise or un- 
 
PAUL REDDING. 63 
 
 pleasant suggestion of which he was the subject. 
 Therefore he gave Paul to understand, that he was 
 not altogether what he seemed, and persuaded the 
 young man to accompany him to his own private 
 lodgings. And Paul, actuated somewhat by 
 curiosity, and, perhaps, from a sense of his own 
 loneliness, but more from a deep sympathy for the 
 mysterious man, at last consented ; and the two 
 strangers, followed by the inquiring gaze of twenty 
 eyes, glided out, and were soon lost amid the dark 
 ness of the street. They entered a narrow alley 
 way, and passing through the back room of an old 
 building, Fitful led the way cautiously up a dark 
 flight of stairs into the little apartment mentioned in 
 the last chapter. On one side there were two windows 
 that were tightly fastened up with old-fashioned 
 board shutters ; in one corner of the room was 
 situated a small bed, and opposite to that was the 
 little fire-place, mounted with an old black mantle- 
 piece, over which hung two antique-looking pistols, 
 well coated with rust ; and between these stood a 
 small quaintly-figured dingy clock, that ticked so 
 slow and mournfully, that you might have imagined 
 it was complaining over the loss of its better and 
 brighter days. On the base of the clock, which 
 was of brass, these mysterious lines were dimly 
 carved, or rather scratched : 
 
 "A pendulum bright is the heart of a youth, 
 
 That ever goes merrily on, 
 Till crime clings unto it, then horrible ruth 
 Like rust gnaws away, with unsatisfied tooth, 
 
 Nor stops when its brightness is gone." 
 
64 PAUL REDDING. 
 
 The appearance of the place impressed Paul with 
 an irresistible feeling of awe, and served in no 
 way to solve the mystery, that hung around the 
 stranger; but notwithstanding all this, the young 
 man s curiosity was still more excited, and, 
 assuming an air of confidence, he accepted the 
 proffered chair, while Fitful drew up another and 
 seated himself familiarly by his side. 
 
 " I was somewhat surprised to find you in the 
 city," said he. 
 
 " Yes, I was almost surprised at it myself," an 
 swered Paul ; " but I arrived here last evening, in 
 hopes of finding some situation where I might better 
 my fortune ; for I have had rather a hard lot of it 
 since being left an orphan, when a mere child." 
 
 "An orphan," sighed Fitful ; " poor boy ! " 
 
 "An orphan is to be pitied, to be sure," replied 
 the young man, coloring slightly, " but not so much 
 pitied while he has health and strength, and hands 
 to work with." 
 
 " Yes, yes," answered the other, " the energy of 
 a determined, youthful, innocent mind mark me, 
 I say a pure mind can easily surmount every 
 barrier that misfortune may throw in its way." 
 
 " I think that I have energy enough, if I may be 
 allowed to say so much in my own favor," answer 
 ed Paul. 
 
 "And a pure mind to back it, I have no doubt," 
 said Fitful. 
 
 " But," continued he, changing the subject, " if I 
 
PAUL REDDING. 65 
 
 was surprised to see you here, I may readily guess 
 that you were equally so to encounter me ; that is, 
 if you recognise me again." Paul answered that 
 it was not an easy thing to forget so soon, the face 
 that he had seen under such peculiar circumstances, 
 at the village inn but a short time before. 
 
 "Ah yes, indeed!" sighed Fitful, "that was 
 a dreadful black night a most horrible night, 
 Paul ! " 
 
 " It was, indeed ! " answered the young man. 
 
 " I would tell you something of it," continued 
 Fitful, casting a sly glance over his shoulder, " for 
 it relieves my mind, and drives away those dreadful 
 fancies, when I can talk with some friend familiarly 
 about them. But no, no, it would frighten you , 
 Paul, terrify you, if you could see, for one moment, 
 those hideous creatures at my shoulder. I 11 not 
 talk of them ! " And the poor man passed his hands 
 nervously over his brow and head, as if to repel 
 the rising recollection. 
 
 " I pray you," said Paul, " if it affords you but a 
 moment s ease of mind, I pray you, speak on." 
 
 Fitful gazed cautiously around the room, and 
 remarked again in an undertone, " Oh, what a 
 fearful night that was, Paul, was n t it ? " 
 
 " Very ! " replied the young man, shuddering at 
 the recollection. 
 
 " How it stormed ! " continued the other, " were 
 you not frightened at my sudden appearance ? " 
 
 " I was somewhat surprised," said Paul mechan- 
 
66 PAUL REDDING. 
 
 ically, striving to avoid giving a pang to the feel 
 ings of the poor man. 
 
 " Yes, you were surprised ! and very reasonably 
 thought me mad, no doubt." 
 
 "Indeed, sir, " 
 
 " Make no apology, Paul," interrupted the other, 
 " make no apology ; you could n t have thought me 
 more mad than I really was ; yes, it was a burn 
 ing fit of the direst madness. But tell me, Paul, 
 what did I talk about ? " 
 
 "Indeed, I can hardly recollect," replied the 
 youth, " but you complained somewhat about evil 
 spirits that haunted you." 
 
 " Was that all ? " said Fitful, again cautiously 
 looking over his shoulder. " Did n t I speak any 
 thing of him : I mean of an old man, eh ? " And 
 he gazed wildly in Paul s face, as the young man, 
 rather hesitatingly, replied, "yes." 
 
 " What was it, Paul ? what was it ? " and he 
 grasped the young man tightly by the arm. 
 
 " You said something of an old man that stood 
 looking over your shoulder, I believe." 
 
 " Was that all ? all ? " asked Fitful, eagerly. 
 
 "Yes, all that I can remember," replied Paul. 
 
 The poor man laughed hysterically fora moment, 
 but suddenly settled down into a gloomy, thoughtful 
 mood. At last he said in a low and melancholy 
 voice, " There are dangerous things that assail us 
 when our backs are turned evils that meet us 
 face to face we can manfully combat ; but slander 
 
PAUL REDDING. 67 
 
 and the tiptoe assassin at our backs, are more to be 
 feared than a legion of foes standing before us. I 
 could boldly meet and grapple with flesh and blood 
 like myself ; but my greatest and nearest enemy is 
 not tangible ; it is here here " (he pressed his 
 finger on his forehead, as he spoke.) " Yes, 
 Paul, it is here. Imagination makes such cowards 
 of us all, that we fear the immaterial shadow which 
 the mind projects much more than the material. 
 Would it were not so. I would not have you think, 
 Paul, that I am usually the miserable thing that you 
 saw me a few evenings since. No ! that was one 
 of my worst fits. How the evil fiends haunted me 
 that night ! I strayed off to the woods and hills ; 
 but still I was haunted. Every sound became 
 terrible ! It seemed as though the heavens thun 
 dered only to speak of me ; the watch-dogs at the 
 farm-houses, far and near, seemed only to howl 
 and bark, because I was prowling through the 
 woods like a thief. Each rustling leaf whispered 
 something of the thing I least wished to hear. 
 Every branch that broke beneath my footstep gave 
 vent to a horrible tell-tale voice. As I sat trem 
 bling on the ledges of rocks, I dared not to lift my 
 eyes upward, lest I should behold a ghastly demon 
 looking down into my face. The boughs, that 
 swayed back and forth in the storm, seemed to be 
 long arms and hands, that strove to grasp me. The 
 trees appeared to take fiendish shapes, and to link 
 their long, lank fingers together ; they nodded their 
 
68 PAUL REDDING. 
 
 heads, jeering at me as they danced around, and 
 their ragged beards floated wildly on the wind. 
 The solitude was more populous than the habitations 
 of man, and I fled from it ; yes, Paul, from such 
 terrors as these was I striving to escape when I 
 rushed so wildly in the bar-room of the village inn. 
 Oh, Paul, Paul, as you cherish hopes for the bright 
 things of earth, and the brighter things of heaven, 
 never, never, let your passions direct your hand or 
 tongue to do aught that shall sow the nettle-seeds 
 of remorse in the fair bed of conscience ! " Fit- 
 ful s descriptions of these fantasies were not without 
 their effect upon the nerves of the youth ; nor was 
 the strange man so lost amid the recollections of 
 his past terrors as to escape observing this ; but on 
 the contrary, he found it prudent to conceal as 
 much as possible the workings of his own imagina 
 tion, and change the conversation to some topic of 
 a less exciting nature. 
 
 " We will talk no more of these things," said 
 Fitful, striving to appear as calm as possible. 
 "And now that I think of it," continued he, " what 
 do you propose doing in this great city ? " 
 
 " Indeed, I have not the faintest idea," replied 
 Paul. 
 
 " You will excuse the liberty, my young friend," 
 said Fitful, " but I judge, as a matter of course, that 
 the purse of a youth, who is seeking his fortune, is 
 not over-full, and I suppose that you would like 
 some employment immediately, if you could pro 
 cure it ? " 
 
PAUL REDDING. 69 
 
 " You speak truly," answered Paul, unhesitating 
 ly ; "I should be glad of any situation that would 
 give me an honest living." 
 
 " I think," said Fitful, " that I can help you to a 
 place that may suit you for the present, until you 
 find some employment that will be more agreeable 
 to your inclination." 
 
 " I would regard it as a great favor," replied the 
 young man. 
 
 " There are those," continued the other, as a 
 scowl gathered on his brow, " there are those who 
 are under obligations to me, that perhaps would be 
 glad of your services." 
 
 " I wish it may prove so," answered Paul. 
 
 " Prove so ! " reiterated Fitful, with an angry 
 stare ; " prove so ! I tell you, Paul, they dare not 
 refuse me! that is," continued he, suddenly 
 checking his vehemence, " I think they will not 
 I am quite certain they will not ; or, if they do, no 
 matter, you can call to-morrow morning and ascer 
 tain for yourself. In the mean time, allow me to 
 ask what are your plans for to-night ? " 
 
 " How do you mean ? " said Paul. 
 
 " What 1 mean, is this : do you stop at the tavern, 
 to-night ? " 
 
 " I see no other alternative," said Paul, hesitating 
 ly ; " but to be plain with you, I have been driven 
 to my wit s end to know what I should do in my 
 present case. I was in hopes that one day s search 
 would procure me some employment ; but I have 
 
70 PAUL REDDING. 
 
 been sorely disappointed ; and to tell you the truth, 
 I have not the means to pay for my lodging at the 
 inn, should I go there." As Paul stammered out 
 this, Fitful s face relaxed almost to a smile, as near 
 indeed as he ever came to smiling in his calmer 
 moments ; and he said, "I am almost selfish enough 
 to be glad of it ! " 
 
 " Indeed ! " answered Paul, good-naturedly, 
 " why so ? " 
 
 " Because I may have the pleasure of providing 
 for you to-night; my only regret is," as he spoke 
 he cast a sad look around the room, " my only 
 regret is, that I have no better accommodations to 
 afford you." 
 
 " Were that all," answered the other, " you need 
 give yourself no uneasiness on that score." 
 
 " That is all," replied Fitful, " and believe me, 
 Paul, nothing now could give me greater happiness 
 than to do you a service." 
 
 " Thank you," said the youth, with heart-felt 
 gratitude ; " I am exceedingly obliged to you, and I 
 would accept your kind offer, were it not but for 
 one thing." 
 
 " What is that, pray ? " 
 
 " You will excuse me for saying so ; but if that 
 is your bed, as I suppose it is, it seems to be hardly 
 large enough to accommodate two of us." 
 
 " Do n t trouble yourself about that, Paul," said 
 Fitful, with a sigh ; " if there is bed enough for 
 you, that is all that is necessary. I never lie down 
 at night never sleep unless it be in the broad 
 
PAUL REDDING. 71 
 
 daylight, for reasons that you may one day know ; 
 as it is, for the present no matter; there is your 
 bed, when you are ready betake yourself to it, and 
 do n t mind me." The strange man s manner was 
 so decisive, that Paul deemed it prudent to make 
 no farther remonstrance, but thanked him and talked 
 of other matters. Such was the young man s con 
 fidence in his mysterious friend, that at an early 
 hour he made no hesitation to retire to rest ; and 
 notwithstanding the strangeness of his companion, 
 or the singular appearance of the apartment, without 
 entertaining the slightest scruples, he permitted 
 himself to fall into that state of half-unconscious 
 ness, when .the mind takes no cognizance of out 
 ward things, but wanders almost as free as the dis 
 embodied spirit, mingling in scenes, and calling up 
 incidents that otherwise seemed buried in oblivion. 
 In such a state it would seem that the claims of 
 mortality were, for the time, cast off, and the soul 
 was permitted to wander, for awhile, in that fair 
 country, where the past and the future are spread, 
 like pleasant fields, on either side of the present. 
 In the one, the spirit becomes a child again, and 
 rambles by familiar brooks and trees, while flowers, 
 birds, and butterflies, welcome it as their natural 
 playmate. In the other, it walks amid poetic 
 structures, through gorgeous temples, where 
 
 " Music is the breath of thought, and flows 
 Like gold and silver light throughout all space 
 Where buds and flowers are but the gems of love 
 And truth, a record of all holy things, 
 The language of the soul ! " 
 
72 PAUL REDDING. 
 
 And who may say that such are not the realities of 
 the land of spirits ? 
 
 From some cause or other, perhaps stung by 
 some cruel change in his dream, Paul suddenly 
 awoke ; and casting his gaze to the opposite corner 
 of the room, he beheld Fitful sitting at a small 
 table, bending very intently over some manuscripts, 
 in which he seemed ever and anon to be making 
 corrections. The rattling of the straw mattress, as 
 the young man changed his position, betrayed the 
 movement to his strange companion, who, as if 
 caught in some criminal act, grasped the papers 
 hurriedly together, and thrust them into his bosom. 
 Then taking up the half-filled lamp, he approached 
 the bed, but seeing that Paul s eyes were closed, 
 he returned to the table, and again busied himself 
 with the papers. A second time did the youth fall 
 into that state of half-unconsciousness. A motley 
 dream of consistencies and inconsistencies now took 
 possession of his brain. At one time he thought 
 that his mother stood weeping over him, and he had 
 no power to speak to her how young and beauti 
 ful she looked ! Yes, as beautiful and young as 
 when he, a fair-haired, happy child, ran laughing 
 to his fair-haired, happy mother. But soon there 
 came a melancholy scene, where his father appear 
 ed, a tall, dark-browed man, who smoothed the 
 hair from the forehead of his son, and whispered 
 in his ear, " farewell ! " 
 
 Again Paul started from his sleep, and he beheld 
 
PAUL REDDING. 73 
 
 Fitful standing over him, gazing in his face, and 
 smoothing aside the hair from the young man s 
 brow, as his father had done in the dream. 
 
 " I was only looking to see if you slept well," 
 said Fitful, and he turned away. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 With lips depressed as he were meek, 
 Himself unto himself he sold : 
 
 * * * * * 
 
 Quiet, dispassionate, and cold, 
 
 ***** 
 With chiseled features, clear and sleek." 
 
 TENNYSON. 
 
 ON the following morning, our young hero sal 
 lied forth to seek his fortune ; but, first of all, by 
 the advice and directions of Fitful, to seek the 
 residence of Nathaniel Munson. He traversed 
 street after street, like all strangers, taking the 
 most circuitous route to find a place to which the 
 simplest straight forward course would have led 
 him. He had arrived, however, almost to his place 
 of destination, when he suddenly stumbled against 
 his friend, Mr. Christopher Scrapp, the caricaturist. 
 "Halloa!" said that gentleman, with a stare of 
 recognition, " you are a more perfect picture than 
 ever ! Come, step into my studio a moment ; you 
 shall have the privilege of examining my produc 
 tions, free of expense, unless, sir, (and as I look at 
 you again, you have an eye to appreciate the fine 
 5 
 
74 PAUL REDDING. 
 
 arts,) you may be inclined to become the possessor 
 of something in my line." 
 
 Paul followed the artist, and they entered a dark 
 little room on the third floor of a very old, rusty 
 building. The sanctum where Mr. Scrapp gave 
 birth to his immense ideas, was a remarkably 
 sombre place, the light being only admitted through 
 a small oval aperture ; and the air was strongly 
 scented with that pleasantest of all perfumes, the 
 stale smoke of a cigar. Around the walls hung 
 the productions of the renowned caricaturist. Here 
 was a figure, almost as tall as the spade he held, 
 standing in a pair of immense shoes ; the artist in 
 formed Paul that that picture was symbolical of the 
 true friends of their country, who, with their great 
 understandings, were about to dig the grave of the 
 administration. Paul suggested that he supposed 
 the adjoining sketch, a very squat figure, repre 
 sented as standing on his head, was symbolical of 
 the rise of great understandings. " No," said the 
 artist; "I thought you would recognise that; not 
 to know that celebrated satire, sir, argues yourself 
 hem of course it does! That picture has 
 struck terror into the opposite party ; yes, sir, they 
 grew pale with horror! It was quite terrible, I 
 assure you. The president offered me one of the 
 best offices in his control, if I would only consent 
 to withhold those withering productions, in future, 
 from the public. But, no, sir, I am not to be 
 bought; no, sir, I am true, true. I feel it here, 
 
PAUL REDDING. 75 
 
 here in my heart, that I am true, not to be 
 bought." Here Mr. Scrapp knocked at his breast 
 several times, as if he would have his heart speak 
 for itself, and establish its truth beyond the shadow 
 of a doubt ; but the knocking only called up a 
 cough, and Mr. Scrapp changed the subject. 
 
 " Here are the productions of my pupils ; but 
 none of them, you will observe, equal mine in 
 grace of outline, or beauty of execution. One man 
 only out of a hundred yes, I might say out of a 
 thousand has the capabilities to become an artist. 
 I flatter myself that / happen to be that lucky one ! 
 Still, it is necessary for any man to study the art, 
 very necessary ! My system of teaching is very 
 remarkable ; it is simple, expeditious, yet complete. 
 You would be surprised to see with what facility 
 my instructions are given ; perspective, architecture, 
 and the human figure are all taught at one lesson ! 
 The young gentleman or lady, as the case may be 
 I prefer the latter sits down and takes a pencil. 
 I take his or her hand in mine ; and, without the 
 least premeditation, make a spot in the middle of 
 the paper, thus; that is the point of sight; now I 
 draw two lines from the spot to the left corner, 
 then two to the right, thus ; at this corner I make, 
 with a few hasty touches, a house, and there, in the 
 distance, another a very small house thus; 
 here I draw the figure of a man the man is a 
 little too tall add another story to the house, thus ; 
 that makes it ! There, sir, is a composition com- 
 
76 PAUL REDDING. 
 
 prising all the elements of art, and executed with 
 out the least premeditation! By this time, the 
 pupil is master of perspective, architecture, and the 
 human figure. Astonishing, is n t it ? " 
 
 " Very ! " replied Paul. 
 
 " Peculiar ? " 
 
 " Quite so." 
 
 " And original ! " 
 
 " Undoubtedly ! " 
 
 " Permit me to examine your head. Perceptive 
 organs, immense ; constructiveness, large; destruc- 
 tiveness, very large ; mirthfulness, full ; color, 
 ditto! Young man, you are an artist by nature! 
 fact, I assure you ! Put yourself under my direc 
 tion, and you may yet astonish the world." Paul 
 thanked Mr. Scrapp for his good opinion, and ob 
 served, that if he could find sufficient leisure from 
 other employments, hereafter, nothing would give 
 him greater delight than to pursue the study of 
 art. " If I succeed," said the young man, " in my 
 present mission to a gentleman that I am in search 
 of, perhaps I may call on you again. Can you tell 
 me where I may find the establishment of Nathaniel 
 Munson ? " 
 
 " Old stingy Nat, I think you mean ? O, yes, 
 he keeps just below here. Drop into the meanest- 
 looking shop that you can find ; you can t mistake 
 the place." 
 
 " Thank you, sir," said Paul, as he took his 
 leave, not a little damped in his hopes, and bent his 
 
PAUL REDDING. 77 
 
 steps to the place before mentioned. He found, 
 somewhat to his surprise, that Nathaniel Munson 
 was the same little shrivelled-up Quaker that had 
 attracted his attention, a few evenings before, in 
 the restaurateur. Paul handed him a note from 
 Fitful, and the old man, without taking any par 
 ticular notice of the youth, opened it, and glancing 
 hastily over the contents, ejaculated, in a dissatis 
 fied tone, " Humph, boy, art thou a great eater? " 
 and he peered with his mean little gray eyes very 
 sharply at the youth, as he waited for an answer. 
 
 " Indeed, sir, I cannot answer that question," 
 replied Paul, with a smile, " for I am ignorant of 
 what your ideas of a great eater are." 
 
 " How many meals does thee require per day ? 
 how many ? " 
 
 " Three, usually," was the decisive answer. 
 
 " Three ! what extravagance ! two are plenty, 
 young man; and remember, the short days are 
 coming on ; breakfast and supper will be quite 
 sufficient. Let me see lodging, too ! Does thee 
 not think that asking too much ? " 
 
 " No, sir ! " said Paul, very emphatically. 
 
 " Very well ; what is thy Christian name ? " 
 
 "Paul, sir." 
 
 "Hem a very good scripture name, that ; no 
 doubt thee is honest. John, show this young man 
 his duty. There, get thee to work, boy; I shall 
 love thee, if thee is honest and industrious." 
 
 From the expression of Mr. Munson s face, just 
 
78 PAUL REDDING. 
 
 at that moment, you might have imagined that he 
 loved the boy already very much ! and would, in 
 future, take care that the youth was provided for ! 
 
 " So, so, Mr. Paul," exclaimed the before-men 
 tioned John, " old Broad-Brim has found somebody 
 to come to his terms at last, has he ? Well, I m 
 blessed glad o that ! But how on arth did you 
 strike a bargain with the old parchment ? " 
 
 " Why? " asked Paul, affecting some surprise. 
 
 "Why! Lord bless you, you don t know the 
 old un, then ! I tell you what, my friend, that old 
 skin-flint used to belong to a society called the 
 Penny Catcher Tight Grip Club. The leanest, 
 meanest member was always entitled to the chair ; 
 of course, old Munson always had it. But now 
 and he grows very melancholy and lonely, some 
 times, to think of it he is the only surviving mem 
 ber ; all the others died of starvation ; but bless 
 you, they hadn t such constitutions as our old 
 man s got there aint no die to him he s too 
 mean to pay the debt o natur. What ! old Split-fip 
 ever die ? No, no ! he 11 dwindle down to a 
 shadow, a very small, mean shadow, and then slip 
 into some rich gentleman s coffin, and enjoy the 
 luxury of a handsome burial, all at somebody else 
 expense ! 
 
 " But I reckon you haint seen little Edith, yet ? 
 of course not. Well, to my thinking, there aint a 
 girl in town a touch to Edith Munson. Her hair is 
 light, her eyes blue ; not a bright sky blue, nor 
 
PAUL REDDING. 79 
 
 dark blue, but a kind o twilight blue. They do n t 
 bore right through one, as some eyes do, making 
 one wish they were dead, but they kind o melt 
 right in so tenderly, that it makes a fellow feel so 
 happy he wants to kiss all creation. That s what 
 I calls being in love." 
 
 When Paul repaired to the residence of Nathaniel 
 Munson, that evening, he was conducted, by the 
 above-mentioned Edith, (who, in every particular, 
 fully came up to the glowing description that John 
 had given of her,) into a little room, which, al 
 though meanly furnished, was extremely neat and 
 clean. The young man observed that preparations 
 had been made to receive him to tea, and he was 
 not displeased with the appearance which things 
 presented. 
 
 " Take a seat, if you please, sir. Father did not 
 tell me that you were coming, until a few moments 
 since, or perhaps we might have been a little better 
 prepared," said the maiden, as she hurried away to 
 bring in the tea. " Well," thought Paul, " this is 
 not so bad as I had anticipated." 
 
 "I see," said the same sweet voice of little 
 Edith, as she filled the young man s cup, " I see 
 that your attention is attracted by the strange ap 
 pearance of that poor woman who stands gazing in 
 at the window. You will please not to be aston 
 ished at any thing which she may do. Poor crea 
 ture ! she has had a deal of trouble ; has been 
 deranged for many years, but is entirely harmless. 
 
80 PAUL REDDING. 
 
 We call her c good Mary. She has a kind heart, 
 poor thing, notwithstanding that she acts somewhat 
 strangely at times ; but you will soon get used to 
 that, and not mind her. She has lived with us ever 
 since my own mother died. Indeed, I believe I 
 should play the child and weep, if Mary should 
 leave us. She has always been so very kind to 
 me, that I think I love her quite as well as I could 
 my own mother." 
 
 "Ah," answered Paul, with a sigh ; " is there, 
 then, any one in the world who can fill the place 
 of a mother ? " 
 
 " Indeed," replied Edith, while a tear trembled 
 in her eye, " I do n t know ; I have scarcely any 
 recollections of rny own mother ; but I do n t think 
 I could have loved her much better than I love 
 poor Mary." 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Oh how he burned with fierce, poetic fire I 
 Himself a satyr, and his verse satire. 
 
 ANOJT. 
 
 THE day following Paul Redding s installation at 
 Mr. Munson s, he entered as a student the sanctum 
 of Mr. Scrapp. He found that gentleman engaged 
 in transferring from his well-stored imagination a 
 human figure ; for so he called it. 
 
 " Young gentleman," said Mr. Scrapp, " give me 
 
Ul 
 
 PAUL REDDING. 81 
 
 v\ T 
 
 your attention for a moment. Here is a human 
 figure. I am about to explain to you some of the 
 fundamental principles of the art. You observe 
 that I am not trammeled with any of those super 
 fluous rules in drawing which Sir Joshua and others 
 have laid down as the standard. No, sir, they were 
 all humbugs ! What did they know more about 
 the human figure than I do? Was nature any 
 more nature then than it is now? Hang their 
 rules, they always put me out, as.Fuseli once said ; 
 a remark that in my opinion was sufficient of itself 
 to immortalize the author. So I say, hang their 
 rules ; I have found a system of my own, in which 
 you will observe that I am neither a slave to nature 
 nor the old masters. In my rules for drawing a 
 figure, as in this case, the head forms one sixteenth 
 part of the body ; the arms, when extended, are 
 half as long again as the whole length of the per 
 son ; while the hand is half the length of the arm ; 
 and every foot is a foot and a half. You see that 
 my system is at once simple, striking, and original ! " 
 
 " Very ! " replied Paul. 
 
 " But, hark ! " said Mr. Scrapp; " somebody is at 
 the door. Go and see who it is ; remember, if it is 
 a suspicious-looking man, a collector, I mean, do n t 
 admit him ; I m out ! " And he slipped very 
 dexterously behind a screen, while Paul opened the 
 door. 
 
 " Is Scrapp in ? " said an ill-looking man, with 
 very red whiskers and rank beard. Paul thought 
 
82 PAUL REDDING. 
 
 that the stranger was rather suspicious-looking, but 
 would n t lie even to shield the renowned carica 
 turist ; therefore he replied, " Yes, sir, he is in, but 
 I believe is engaged." 
 
 " What do I care," said the man, walking boldly 
 into the room. " He is very suspicious-looking," 
 thought Paul, " but it could n t be helped." 
 
 "Ah, my dear Gall, I m rejoiced to see you ! " 
 said Scrapp, stepping forth from the screen. 
 
 " I ve a job for you, Scrapp," said Mr. Gall. 
 
 " I m delighted to hear it ! what sort of a job ? 
 Any thing in this way, eh ? " as he spoke, he flour 
 ished his pencil in the air, with great significance. 
 
 " You sometimes write satires, eh ? " 
 
 " Oh, frequently." 
 
 " Very well, sir, I want a few caustic lines em 
 bodying the ideas that you will find on this scrap of 
 paper. Do it, sir, and five dollars shall be your 
 reward! Make that fellow who dares to write 
 poetry wish he had never been born ! do it, and 
 five dollars will reward your labors ! " 
 
 " Yes ! " said Mr. Scrapp, making the late pro 
 duction of his pencil fly across the room. " To-day 
 is Saturday. Let me see, say on Monday; yes, you 
 shall have it on Monday." 
 
 " Very well, sir ; only make the fellow wish that 
 he had never been born, that s all ! " 
 
 " Never fear ; I 11 do it ! " 
 
 " On Monday ? " 
 
 " Yes, Monday ! " 
 
PAUL REDDING. 
 
 83 
 
 " Good day, Scrapp." 
 
 Good bye, Gall." 
 
 Mr. Scrapp lost no time in seating himself before 
 a piece of virgin paper ; and he was soon plunged 
 in the most profound meditation. For a long time 
 did he remain in that situation, without giving any 
 signs of animation ; at last, however, his lips began 
 to move, as if he communed inwardly, with spirits, 
 (very likely he did.) Paul was strongly reminded 
 of a line by Wordsworth, 
 
 "And Johnny s lips, they burr, burr, burr I " 
 
 In the course of time, the word poem escaped 
 from the mouth of the inspired satirist ; faintly, at 
 first, but, as the storm thickened, it grew louder and 
 louder, until, at last, burst out, " Poem ! poern ! 
 poem ! hide your works ! Oh, never, never, nev er 
 
 blood and thunder !" cried he ; at the same time, 
 striking his pencil on the table with great despera 
 tion, he addressed Paul, saying, " Come, young 
 man, what rhymes with po ? " The youth answer 
 ed, "flow, go, wo " 
 
 " Stop ! stop ! " cried the other, eagerly ; " not 
 so fast. I want time to think as you go along. 
 Now for it!" Paul continued, "Sow, row, throw 
 
 " " There, now, hold up a minute, will you ! " 
 Mr. Scrapp looked at the floor, scratched his head, 
 and bit his nails ; then turning his inspired orbs 
 towards that little oval streak of daylight, he ex 
 claimed, 
 
84 PAUL REDDING. 
 
 " Whene er you undertake to do a poem, 
 
 Hide your works, Oh do n t you never throw em 
 
 Out in before " 
 
 But it was no use ! The enraged satirist caught 
 his hat, and rushed out of the room. He dashed 
 down Second street, and plunged headlong into a 
 coffee-house, where he was pretty certain of finding 
 his friend, Mr. Inkleton ; he seized and dragged 
 that poetical gentleman precipitously away ; nor 
 did he attempt any explanation, until he succeeded 
 in thrusting the poet, head first, into his studio. 
 After dismissing Paul, those two hopefuls sat in 
 solemn conclave for twenty-four hours, uninterrupt 
 ed by any one during the whole, if we except a boy, 
 that on Saturday afternoon delivered to them a well- 
 filled demijohn. Mr. Inkleton, it is said, spoiled 
 several quires of paper with his immense labors ; 
 and, on Monday morning, precisely at three o clock, 
 kicked the empty jug across the room, with an 
 imprecation, and read, to the infinite delight of his 
 companion, some lines, which, in the course of a 
 few days, appeared in one of the leading papers, 
 and created a great sensation in the select circle of 
 three persons ; namely, Mr. Gall and the co-authors. 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 " My mother s form in dim outline 
 
 Is floating near me now, 
 I feel her fond arms round me twine, 
 
 Her breath upon my brow." 
 
 MARY MATHER. 
 
 SEVERAL weeks had already elapsed since Paul 
 had taken up his residence in the house of Nathan 
 iel Munson. One evening, as the twilight was 
 gathering fast, he and Edith sat together at the 
 casement of the little parlor, that looked out upon 
 the street. He had been making a sketch of her, 
 as she sat reading. The liquid blue eyes cast down 
 beneath their long flaxen fringes, the delicate oval 
 face, from which the hair was gathered simply 
 back, the small dimpled hand laid upon the white 
 page, and added to all this the plain Quaker attire, 
 formed a subject worthy of a more skilful pencil 
 than that which now attempted to transcribe it. 
 This, Paul was sensible of, and he no sooner finish 
 ed the drawing, than he destroyed it. 
 
 " Edith," said he, " think you I shall ever be an 
 artist ? " 
 
 " Certainly I do, Paul, otherwise I would advise 
 you to abandon all thoughts of art, and go imme 
 diately to hard labor." 
 
 " To hard labor, indeed ! think you that the 
 artist lives the life of luxury and ease ! Oh, no, 
 Edith. To pursue art, is to pursue early toil and 
 
86 PAUL REDDING. 
 
 late watching, and too often obscurity, poverty and 
 want. The artist must grow pale over his pencil, 
 he must gird himself well for the long ordeal, if he 
 would be a great artist. But then how ennobling 
 the ambition, to pursue a great object through years 
 of perpetual darkness, to grapple even with the 
 lean hounds of poverty, and come out at last bright, 
 though worn down with the conflict ! The thing is 
 achieved ! and what is the sacrifice of this poor 
 mortality when compared with immortality ! What 
 though RaffaePs body fell away in early life, in his 
 works he still lives, and must live through all time. 
 How much shorter is the existence of the centena 
 rian that has lived without any exalted aim, who 
 dies, is buried and forgotten ! " 
 
 " Is art, then, so difficult ? " said Edith, with an 
 expression of terror. 
 
 " So indeed it would appear from the biography 
 of almost all that have ever excelled in it." 
 
 "And so fatal ? " 
 
 " Not always necessarily fatal ; many have lived 
 to be quite aged, the fates, as it were, allowing 
 them more time wherein to achieve their greatness. 
 The brightest blaze is the soonest exhausted." 
 
 "And you intend to endure all these things that 
 you have named for the sake of painting pic 
 tures ? " 
 
 " Yes, Edith, such has always been my deter 
 mination." 
 
 " I have not the least doubt of your abilities, 
 
PAUL REDDING. 87 
 
 Paul," said Edith, with a sigh ; "I think you capable 
 enough ; but " 
 
 " Well, proceed, I shall be glad to hear your 
 objections." 
 
 " I think that you might be so comfortable and 
 happy in some simpler pursuit." 
 
 " Pardon me, Edith, for differing with you on 
 that point. What is comfort or happiness ? It is 
 to gratify the cravings of our highest nature, which 
 is the soul, and the commands of the soul are im 
 perative ; disregard them and we must be unhappy; 
 obey them and we are rewarded even in the act." 
 
 " That is very true, I did n t think of it before ; 
 but then your enthusiasm is so strong, that you, I 
 fear, are in danger of becoming too early a prey to 
 it. Already I can see, or imagine that I see the 
 color leaving your cheeks ; and every morning the 
 empty lamp tells a tale of studies protracted to a 
 very late hour." 
 
 " It is an old custom of mine. Reading and 
 drawing have been to me, essentially a second life, 
 and to resign one, it seems would be to resign both. 
 Often, when a mere boy of ten or twelve, I have 
 wandered away to the hills, and amid haunts where 
 man seldom strayed, there would I pass the day in 
 making sketches, perchance, of some peculiar tree, 
 crag, waterfall, and mountain, and then amuse 
 myself by fantastically weaving them into one. I 
 have wandered abroad beneath the silent stars, 
 through dense woods, down by level meadows, and 
 
88 PAUL REDDING. 
 
 sat on the rocks beside the river, to listen to the 
 thousand beautiful voices that darkness and wild- 
 ness only have. And none but those who have 
 done the same, know any thing of the bewitching 
 spell of night, or the enchantment of solitude." 
 
 " But come, Paul," said Edith, " you have never 
 told me any thing of your parents. Talk to me of 
 your mother. I am sure that you must still love 
 her memory." 
 
 The young man leant his forehead on his hand, 
 and mused for some moments ; not, however, to 
 conjure up some scene of his childhood where his 
 mother appeared prominent, . for he remembered 
 but one wherein he could yet call up that loved 
 face to the eye of memory. 
 
 " There is but one incident that I can recollect," 
 said Paul, at last, with a sigh, " in which I can yet 
 distinguish my mother, and that scene is too pain 
 ful ; you would shudder to hear it." 
 
 " Pray go on," said Edith, eagerly. 
 
 " It was a dark, stormy night," continued Paul. 
 "The winter winds were howling fearfully around 
 our country habitation ; but a broad sheet of flame 
 went up the ample old-fashioned fireplace, and cast 
 a feverish glare over the room. My mother, I can 
 see her yet, passing to and fro with the little babe 
 in her arms, preparing the evening meal. She 
 was not tall, but yet was slender, and, as I recol 
 lect, quite good-looking. On one side of the fire 
 place sat my father, while, at the opposite side, 
 
PAUL REDDING. 89 
 
 stood a short, dark, ill-looking man, of whom all 
 seemed to hold a continual dread. An iron hook 
 supplied the place of his right arm, which had been 
 amputated at the elbow. The prominence of his 
 cheek-bones and jagged brows formed between 
 them deep valleys, wherein were situated two 
 fiendish eyes, that seemed to shrink from the light 
 as it were their deadliest enemy. Long, thin, 
 straggling locks of hair, sprinkled with gray, hung 
 down about his face ; and, in short, he was such a 
 character as you would tremble to meet with in 
 any unfrequented place. How distinctly I can still 
 see my dear mother passing back and forth through 
 the apartment. And all of the furniture of that one 
 room, too, as it appeared on that night; the old 
 muskets, powder-horns, and many other similar 
 articles, hanging or leaning against the wall, all 
 glistening in the fire light, and projecting their long 
 shadows ; it seems, in effect, like a picture by Rem- 
 brant. 
 
 " When the supper was spread upon the table, 
 Fin, (for such was the ill-looking man s name,) sat 
 himself greedily to work, and appropriated the 
 different articles of food to himself, at a most aston 
 ishing rate. My father rested his elbow on the 
 back of the chair, his chin on his hand, and mutter 
 ed something inaudible between his teeth. 
 
 " Fin stopped for a moment, and fixed his fiend 
 ish eye on my father, and with a sarcastic smile, 
 exclaimed, What s the matter, eh ? have you lost 
 your appetite ? 
 
90 PAUL REDDING. 
 
 " My father made no answer ; but turned his 
 back to Fin, who, looking around at me, met the 
 indignant gaze of my mother. He smiled more 
 hideously than ever ; and raising his ponderous eye 
 brows, beckoned me to his side. 
 
 " Come here, Paul, said he, come here ! his 
 evil eye was upon me, and I could not but obey. 
 Reaching forth the iron hook, he drew me close to 
 his side. 
 
 " What is the matter, Paul ? ejaculated he, are 
 you afraid of me, eh ? and he put his face close to 
 mine, repeating are you afraid, Paul ? I turned 
 my head away, and answered, yes. 
 
 " I thought so, replied he, with a fiendish smile, 
 1 afraid of Fin, afraid he 11 hurt you. Who taught 
 you to fear me, eh ? As he spoke, he cast his 
 malicious eyes back and forth, alternately, from my 
 father to my mother. Yes, continued he, they 
 taught you to fear, and to hate Fin ! They hate 
 Fin ! as he said this, he laughed through his clench 
 ed teeth, and rubbed the iron hook, fiendishly, 
 across the table. Oh, how they hate Fin ! cried 
 he again, in a voice that startled even my father, 
 who, with eyes flashing with anger, turned abruptly 
 around, and stared Fin full in the face. 
 
 " HE hates Fin, screamed the ugly man, and, 
 
 at the same time, pointed the hook towards my 
 
 father, to designate who he meant. Fin knows 
 
 too much ! he has a secret ! a dreadful secret ! 
 
 " i FIN ! cried my father, mounting to his feet, 
 
PAUL REDDING. 91 
 
 and grasping a chair, Fin! you infernal dog, if you 
 do n t hold your tongue, I 11 Murder me ! 
 screamed Fin, finishing the sentence. Murder ! 
 ha, ha, ha ! I ve got a secret, mind you ! And 
 Fin leaned over the table, and leered up in my 
 father s face. The old man, he was asleep, he 
 never woke after, did he ? The money, too, the 
 chest! ha, ha, ha ! My father s eyes flashed, and 
 bursting with fury, he hurled the chair at the head 
 of Fin, who, stunned by the blow, rolled with a 
 fearful howl to the floor. 
 
 " Oh, what have you done ? cried my mother. 
 Done ! ejaculated my father, killed a villain ! 
 
 Just at this point of the story, Paul and Edith 
 were both startled by a heavy crash at their side ; 
 and suddenly looking around, they beheld the poor 
 house-keeper, Mary, with her hands thrown up, 
 staring at them, seeming entirely unconscious of 
 the half a dozen broken dishes at her feet. " What 
 in the world s the matter ? " cried Edith. Poor 
 Mary, as if struggling with her senses, at last made 
 out to exclaim, " Why ! why ! I was just thinking 
 what an ugly man that Fin was ; " and continuing 
 to murmur strange words to herself, she began very 
 coolly to collect the fragments of Mr. Munson s 
 best tea-plates ; and gathering up the very smallest 
 pieces, she went and deposited them carefully in 
 the closet, as if they were yet as valuable as ever. 
 
CHAPTER XI. 
 
 c So cunningly the miser plans his plot, 
 The de il must smile upon his protege, 
 And leave him midst his own dark villainy, 
 Nor wish a meaner hypocrite to hold 
 The agency of hell !" 
 
 DAYTON. 
 
 POOR Mary, as she was familiarly called, was 
 a most singular creature ; her countenance invari 
 ably wore a vacant expression, and all of her 
 movements were so uncertain, many of them un 
 meaning, that they seemed to be directed rather by 
 a dim instinct, than by any gleams of reason. 
 Such had been her character for years ; long, blank 
 years they must have been to that almost inanimate 
 creature. Let those who crushed the flower tell 
 how many dreary years it had been since they left 
 the leafless stalk to sway listlessly in the winds ! 
 But of late, it seemed as though a light had been 
 struggling to break through the mists that shrouded 
 her poor mind ; and she moved somewhat less 
 methodically, her actions appeared to be more the 
 effect of impulse, and her gaze grew less vacant. 
 This change, though but a slight one indeed, 
 escaped not the observation of little Edith ; nor was 
 it unnoticed by Fitful, the melancholy state of 
 whose own mind but ill fitted him to discover the 
 wavering of another. But step aside, poor Mary, 
 for awhile ; step aside, thou broken-hearted thing ! 
 
PAUL REDDING. 93 
 
 while we usher upon the stage those who, with all 
 their quantum of reason, are far from being thy 
 peers ! whose souls are bound to earth by a thou 
 sand chains of selfishness and guilt, whilst thine 
 stands waiting, as it has done this many a day, to 
 depart (when the angel shall beckon) for its bright 
 home. 
 
 Some hours had elapsed after the recital of 
 Paul s story, when two men glided cautiously into 
 the residence of Nathaniel Munson, and ascending 
 a couple of dark flights of stairs, passed into a little 
 room, and carefully fastened the door behind them. 
 One of these persons was a short, stout man, of 
 about sixty years of age ; his ill-shaperi features 
 were dark and weatherbeaten ; he wore a seaman s 
 jacket that had evidently been made for a much 
 taller individual ; his broad checkered collar was 
 thrown open, displaying a short, muscular neck, 
 and his appearance altogether gave strong indica 
 tions that his vocation was that of a marine. 
 
 "There, stand still by the door till I strike a 
 light," said his companion. When the stump of a 
 tallow candle, that was stuck in a little rusty candle 
 stick, was lighted, the dim blaze flickered on the 
 shrivelled features of the old Quaker, Nathaniel 
 Munson. There was a grim look of satisfaction on 
 his countenance as he passed a backless chair to 
 his companion and invited him to be seated, but 
 that expression gave place to another, a little less 
 satisfied, when the stranger, with a curse, kicked 
 
94 PAUL REDDING. 
 
 the chair aside, and mounted himself on the top of 
 an old, strongly-bound chest, and, with a malicious 
 grin, rapped on the lid with the iron hook that was 
 appended to his right arm in lieu of a hand, and 
 exclaimed, " No, no, my old comrade, rickety 
 crickets and chairs for land-lubbers, but give me a 
 seat on the old chest that looks rusty on the outside 
 but bright inside ; it does one good to be near it, 
 you know, comrade ; ah, ha, ha, ho, ho ! " Here 
 the old sailor rapped so loud on the lid with the 
 hook, and glanced at the Quaker with so much 
 significance, that Munson trembled with terror, and 
 begged him to be quiet, lest he might alarm the 
 house. 
 
 " You re afraid that I might disturb some of these 
 bright little fellows in here, too, aint you, eh ? " 
 
 " O no, no, no ! " exclaimed the Quaker, with 
 great earnestness ; " there is n t any thing there, 
 nothing in the world but rubbish. Besides, thee 
 knows (and here he assumed a very meek face) I 
 am a poor man, not worth a cent when my debts 
 are paid not a cent. Thee knows that my purse- 
 strings have always been too loose to keep money ; 
 think what sums I have paid thee, and made my 
 self very poor to do it, very poor ! Thee knows I 
 am thy only friend, and am willing to do a little 
 yet, a very little, for I ani poor ! " 
 
 At the conclusion of this speech, Munson puck 
 ered his face up into the meanest expression pos 
 sible, dropped it into his neck-cloth, and peered at 
 
PAUL REDDING. 95 
 
 his companion through his straggling eyebrows, 
 while the other replied, " Curse your thee s, and 
 your meek Quaker face ; drop em at once, for you 
 always mean some bloody rascality when you take 
 to em ; so talk up like a man, and tell me what 
 your re a going to give to get rid of this boy ? " 
 
 " Not so loud ! " said Munson, imploringly. 
 
 " Well, then, how much ? " exclaimed the other, 
 in the loudest whisper possible. 
 
 " Could n t thee do it for old acquaintance sake, 
 eh ? " said the Quaker, assuming a very affectionate 
 tone. 
 
 " O, certainly ! " answered the sailor, with a 
 fiendish grin ; " our acquaintance has been so very 
 pleasant, so bloody pleasant, and profitable to me 
 in particular, you know ! " 
 
 " Yes, certainly," said Munson, drawing his chair 
 nearer to the other ; " thee knows we have been 
 like brothers ! " 
 
 " Yes, comrade," was the reply, " brothers in 
 bloody crimes ! And I ve had enough of em, 
 unless you can talk up to a lively tune with these 
 here musicians." As he spoke, he brought a very 
 loud rap on the top of the box, plainly indicating 
 that he knew the nature of its contents. 
 
 " Well, how much ? " inquired the Quaker. 
 
 " Why, let me see," said the sailor ; " to get him 
 off, and then lose him overboard " 
 
 "Yes, yes," ejaculated Munson, rubbing his 
 hands with delight. 
 
96 
 
 PAUL REDDING. 
 
 "To get him off that s worth five hundred; 
 and to lose him overboard not less than five hun 
 dred more ; so we 11 say one thousand dollars." 
 
 "Impossible!" answered the Quaker, quite 
 crest-fallen. 
 
 " Very well ! " exclaimed the other, with indif 
 ference, " it d be a cheap bargain at that ; but you 
 know best, do as you please ; it s nothing to me, 
 you know." 
 
 "That s a great sum," said Munson, contem 
 plating the old chest. 
 
 " Maybe the boy may call on you for a greater 
 sum, one o these days, unless you take care of 
 him," was the answer. 
 
 " Ay, ay, he must be taken care of! " ejaculated 
 the Quaker. " But then if I induce the boy to go 
 with the silly notion of visiting Italy, as I have 
 heard him say he would like to do when he became 
 able, I shall have to put a good round sum in his 
 pocket ; and I could n t afford so much." 
 
 " Pshaw ! " exclaimed the sailor ; " do you think 
 I d let him go to Davy Jones with five hundred 
 dollars in his wallet ? no, no ; give him that amount, 
 and give me the balance, and call it a bargain. 
 Do ye see, I don t want to cheat you, or I d let 
 you buy him off the best way you could and make 
 so much the more out o the speculation ; but I m 
 honest, and would n t do it with an old comrade ! " 
 As he spoke he drew himself up as if perfectly 
 conscious of his superiority, and he must have 
 
PAUL REDDING. 97 
 
 looked, with that cut-throat face of his, the very 
 ideal of honesty ; none could have doubted him ; 
 even Nathaniel Munson himself must have suffered 
 in comparison. 
 
 "If I succeed in this plan," said Munson, "I 
 have, then, but one more to take care of." 
 
 " Yes, you have one more," answered the other, 
 tapping the box rather lightly, this time. 
 
 " He will be your second victim," continued the 
 Quaker. 
 
 " You might have said the fiftieth," replied the 
 sailor, with a sneer. 
 
 " Well, well, fiftieth, if you please ; but you will 
 help him out of the way for the sake of an old 
 grudge, eh ? " 
 
 " Perhaps so." 
 
 "You hate him?" 
 
 "I do ; he is n t a friend of mine, as you are, 
 you know, Nat, eh? " 
 
 "And you would " 
 
 " Yes, murder him ! " said the man with the iron 
 hook, finishing the sentence ; "for a small con 
 sideration." 
 
 "A very small one," continued Munson, looking 
 wistfully in his companion s face. 
 
 "Yes, I said so," was the reply. "And I sup 
 pose you will rest contented, having only the blood 
 of three on your conscience." 
 
 "No, no!" cried the Quaker, looking wildly at 
 his companion ; " I did n t do it ! " 
 
98 PAUL REDDING. 
 
 The other shrugged his shoulders significantly, 
 and gazed with a malicious smile into Munson s 
 face. And he added, " You are sure that you can 
 manage the girl ? " 
 
 "Ay, ay, never fear; my son will help me do 
 that; and for that old idiot, the woman, she doesn t 
 know enough to interfere." 
 
 " Yes, comrade, you re right ; that son o yours 
 11 help you to do any thing that smacks of villainy, 
 depend on t ; he s been my mate long enough for 
 that." 
 
 Munson peered up in the other s face with a look 
 of deep satisfaction and pride; and observed, "If 
 we succeed, the property I mean the very little 
 that I have been looking to will be secured to us, 
 and no one can ever come up to dispute it." 
 
 " Unless they be bloody ghosts ! " answered the 
 sailor. 
 
 "Don t, don t talk of such ugly things!" cried 
 the Quaker, with a shudder. 
 
 "As you please, comrade," was the reply. 
 "Now that we understand each other, good night. 
 But look out for ghosts, he, he ! look out for thieves, 
 ho, ho ! lock it up tight, and cover your head close 
 under the blankets, to-night, for there be thieves 
 and ghosts about ! he, he, ho, ho ! " 
 
 " Did n t you hear a footstep on the stairs ? " said 
 Munson, trembling from head to foot. 
 
 " Thieves and ghosts ! ho, ho ! " was the reply. 
 
 The Quaker followed his companion down stairs, 
 
PAUL REDDING. 99 
 
 who went tapping his iron hook on the balusters all 
 the way to the bottom, disregarding the nudging 
 and coaxing of the other. And when Munson 
 opened the door for him to depart, he observed a 
 cloaked female, pass quickly around the corner of 
 the street. That night, poor Mary arrived unex 
 pectedly at the apartment of Fiery Fitful. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 ** To thee, bright land, whose sunny skies 
 
 No wintry clouds e er vail, 
 Away, away, my spirit flies 
 
 Before the spreading sail. 
 I see thy storied hills e en now 
 
 With purple splendors teem ; 
 Thy soft airs fan ray spirit s brow, 
 
 Land of the poet s dream ! " 
 
 MARY MATHER. 
 
 THE boy, that Munson was thus laboring to get 
 rid of, as we have seen in the last chapter, was no 
 other than Paul Redding, as may have already 
 been surmised. And perhaps no scheme however 
 deeply laid, could have promised better success 
 than the one which the Quaker had hit upon. A 
 youth, romantic in all of his feelings, buoyant with 
 hopes which misfortune had failed to quell, alive to 
 every delicate sensibility, and ardent in all of his 
 passions, was an easy instrument for the wily 
 hypocrite to play upon. Munson knew this ; he 
 knew the inexperience of his victim, in regard to 
 
100 PAUL REDDING. 
 
 the cunning world, and had heard some of his ex 
 travagant notions of the enchantments of an artist s 
 life ; he knew that the aspirant to art ever looked 
 with wistful eyes to Europe, and to Italy in partic 
 ular, as the artist s paradise. With this ground to 
 work upon, how easy to spread out the net that 
 would entangle the footsteps of the youth ? And 
 Paul, flattered with a thousand dazzling dreams, 
 that only youth is heir to, how ready was he to 
 walk into the well-planned snare ! He saw in 
 imagination all the splendors of Rome and Florence 
 rise before him ! The works of Raphael, Titian, 
 and all the host of Italian masters were spread in 
 long splendid galleries before his eyes, and he 
 walked the storied streets of the " seven hill d city," 
 lost in admiration of her ruined temples ; or wrap 
 ped in the golden sunlight of his fancy, dreamed on 
 the banks of Arno. How enthusiastically did he 
 applaud the kindness of Nathaniel Munson, and 
 how deeply in his heart did he thank little Edith, 
 for he knew that her sweet voice must have had a 
 prominent part in persuading her father to this act 
 of generosity. Generosity indeed ! ah, poor youth, 
 could he have known the pangs of untold grief that 
 were rending the bosoms of those who were bound 
 to him by the nearest ties of nature, how would he 
 have rather cursed than blest that shrivelled fiend, 
 the Quaker. Could he have seen poor little Edith, 
 sitting apart from all and weeping, those tears 
 might have dissolved the chain that was drawing 
 
PAUL REDDING. 101 
 
 him on to his dark destiny ! Could he have seen 
 poor Mary, struggling with ejaculations of broken 
 sentences, and failing to disentangle her words and 
 thoughts from the web of her brain, gaze tearfully, 
 pityfully, and imploringly into the face of Fitful, as 
 if to tell him with her eyes what her brain could 
 not shape into language ; could he have seen Fitful 
 bending affectionately, like a parent over a little 
 child, catching at her words, and combining them 
 with her tears, her actions and her countenance, 
 and when he had gathered the dreadful meaning 
 break into his most fearful state of madness, and 
 rush wildly he knew not whither ! Then could he 
 have seen that poor woman, sitting with her hands 
 clasped on her knees, and her pale, sorrowful face, 
 turned to heaven, motionless as a statue ! his fan 
 tastic dream had vanished like frost-work in the 
 sun, and he would have questioned the motives of a 
 stranger s kindness more closely. 
 
 But what is to save him now ? Fitful is gone ! 
 The poor woman sits secluded in her little chamber, 
 a more melancholy-looking thing than ever. Little 
 Edith, with a swelling, but hopeful, unsuspecting 
 heart, has taken leave of Paul, and seen him for 
 the last time, as she thinks, for years. Mr. Chris 
 topher Scrapp, after occupying the space of an 
 hour, in giving very sage advice about the manner 
 of proceeding in a country, of which he knew little 
 else than the name, and hinting darkly about certain 
 complimentary stanzas, written by the renowned 
 
102 PAUL REDDING. 
 
 Ichabod Inkleton, on the occasion of the departure 
 of a young friend to Europe, bade adieu to his 
 pupil. 
 
 Munson, with a sneaking leer on his countenance, 
 and his chin buried very deep in his neck-cloth, 
 walked arm in arm with Paul to the vessel, wishing 
 him all the way the greatest pleasure imaginable 
 in his voyage ; and to Paul s heart-felt expressions 
 of gratitude, the Quaker humbly requested that he 
 would not " mention it." The captain, who was 
 the old man with the iron hook introduced in the 
 last chapter, for some reason or other was not 
 about the vessel, and had left word that he would 
 not be there, until they should be ready to sail, 
 which would be on the following morning. Of 
 course Paul thought nothing of this, for the captain s 
 absence could be of no possible consequence to 
 him. He little guessed that the man with the iron 
 hook was fearful of awakening in the mind of the 
 youth some recollections of his childhood, and 
 possibly of being recognised as that not very amia 
 ble character, " Fin." He surmised wisely for 
 himself, since Paul had come to the conclusion that 
 the man whom he saw at the restaurateur, on the 
 evening of his first arrival in the city, was one and 
 the same with that individual of disagreeable mem 
 ory. But the first mate, Munson s hopeful son, 
 was there to play the part of captain ; he, however, 
 was not over-officious in doing the honors. As 
 Paul scanned his coarse form from head to foot, he 
 
PAUL REDDING. 103 
 
 involuntarily exclaimed to himself, "And can this 
 fellow, then, really be the own brother of little 
 Edith ! he has not even called to see her, or pay her 
 any of the attentions that a brother should ! How 
 ever, it is enough that he is her brother, and the 
 son of my generous friend, to entitle him to my 
 respect." 
 
 This soliloquy was soon cut short by certain 
 startling altercations held between Nathaniel Mun- 
 son, Sen., and Nathaniel Munson, Jr., in which the 
 latter seemed to have the best of it, as he made no 
 hesitation to tell the old gentleman that he was a 
 mean, stingy lubber, all of which made Nathaniel 
 Munson, Sen., survey his progeny with an air of 
 deep satisfaction and pride, as though he would 
 challenge the world of fathers to produce such 
 another promising son. Munson, Jr., paid no atten 
 tion whatever to Paul ; but after telling his affec 
 tionate parent that he might emigrate to regions 
 that would not sound polite in delicate ears to 
 name, and there be in the same unpleasant condi 
 tion of those who had gone before him, turned 
 suddenly into the cabin. In the event of which, 
 Munson, Sen., took a most heart-rending leave of 
 Paul, and retraced his steps to the city, whilst the 
 young man walked the deck, contemplating the 
 scenes in his own brain much more than those 
 around him. O, how bright the world appeared 
 before him ! not a shadow swept across his mind to 
 mar his fair hopes! With five hundred dollars 
 
104 PAUL REDDING. 
 
 in his pocket, and the promise of a speedy remit 
 tance, what had he now to fear ? All the world 
 was wrapped in a golden halo, and the ocean over 
 which he had to cross, seemed but a path of 
 pleasure. He walked the deck slowly but proudly ; 
 and you, who have achieved suddenly what for long 
 years of days and nights you have dreamed of, 
 hoping at one time, and at another deeming the 
 realization almost an impossibility, or at least far, 
 far before you, may appreciate the feelings of the 
 youth, how his heart swelled, and his brain throb 
 bed with pleasure ! The evening was coming on, 
 and Paul was reminded that that was the last twi 
 light which would gather around him in his own 
 native land for months, if not for years, to come. 
 He stood gazing at the long row of houses, while 
 the tide of darkness tilled up the little alley-ways 
 and recesses of whatever description, when he 
 observed, at a neighboring corner, a mysterious 
 hand beckoning ever and anon, and then the head 
 of a female was visible for a moment, but it dodged 
 quickly back again. While the arm was still ex 
 tended and beckoning, the head appeared three or 
 four times, and the hand moved unceasingly for 
 several minutes, before Paul could make up his 
 mind to answer the summons ; but at last he stepped 
 ashore, and walked toward the woman, who, when 
 she saw him coming, retreated slowly, but still 
 beckoning him on, until she glided into a very small, 
 dark passage, and discovered to the youth, by her 
 
PAUL REDDING. 105 
 
 manner and tones of voice, that strange creature, 
 " poor Mary." Paul knew not what to make of 
 this singular interview ; her words were incoherent, 
 and she seemed even excited, a state in which he 
 had never seen her before. He could understand, 
 however, that she said something of Fitful, and 
 gathered from her, words something like these : 
 " Fitful home go see must must, now, 
 to-night ! " The woman drew her cloak closely 
 around her, and passed swiftly on, and Paul, im 
 pelled by his sympathies, not only for her, but for 
 the strange man, whose name she uttered, made 
 no hesitation to follow. Having arrived at Fitful s 
 apartment, they found the poor man in the greatest 
 state of agony. He was leaning against the wall 
 beating the air with his hands ; but when he saw 
 the youth, he embraced him, and sobbed like a 
 child, and then grew gradually calm again, but he 
 was not yet what Paul had seen him in his better 
 moments. Mary gazed on the two with almost an 
 expression of gladness, if, indeed, her sorrowful face 
 could at any time assume a different look from its 
 habitual one. It was a melancholy sight to see 
 those two strange creatures striving to be glad. It 
 was a sadder sight as they tried to explain to the 
 youth a part of a dreadful secret. The poor 
 woman endeavored to communicate her thoughts 
 by the wild motions of her hands, and Fitful suc 
 ceeded but little better with the free use of lan 
 guage. But, at last, he gave Paul to understand, 
 7 
 
106 PAUL REDDING. 
 
 that he must not return to the vessel, but stay where 
 he was for that night, at least. The youth, who 
 could see no possible reason for such a movement, 
 and considered what Fitful had told him about evil 
 designs and the like, but the wild fancies of a 
 fevered brain, remonstrated somewhat against this 
 arrangement, until the other, to satisfy him at once, 
 asked him, if he did not remember a dark, ugly 
 man, the enemy of his father. 
 
 Paul replied, with no little astonishment, that he 
 did remember such a man. 
 
 "And that man s name," continued Fitful, " was 
 Fin!" 
 
 " In Heaven s name, how knew you that ? " cried 
 Paul. 
 
 " No matter," said Fitful, " no matter for the 
 present ; but be satisfied, and stay where you are, 
 when I tell you that that dark man, Fin, is the 
 captain of that vessel ! Thank this poor woman, 
 who has providentially saved you from the jaws of 
 a shark ! Yes, literally a shark ! " 
 
 " If such is the fact, I do indeed thank her ! " 
 cried Paul, still lost in amazement. 
 
 " Well, well, sit down," said Fitful, " sit down, 
 and I 11 explain as much as I can, conveniently, for 
 the present ; at least, enough to satisfy you. There 
 fore, sit down, and be calm." 
 
CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 " The night goes on. 
 Why in the shadow of the mast, 
 
 Stands that dark, thoughtful man alone ? 
 Thy pledge, man ; keep it fast ! " R, H. 
 
 Beneath the silent arch of midingiit falls 
 The muffled poun^. of lee?, that print the dust 
 Along the winding highway. 
 
 IT was late at night, before Nathaniel Munson 
 was informed of the disappearance of the young- 
 man. He was evidently uneasy. Had the youth 
 have disappeared satisfactorily that is to say, 
 forever, all would have been well ; but as it was, 
 he had a prophetic feeling, which told him that 
 something was going on, not altogether according 
 to his wishes. Therefore, he drew his weather- 
 beaten, broad-brimmed hat very low over his fore 
 head, plunged into the street, and following his first 
 impulse, hurried along to the residence of Fitful. 
 Paul had already learnt enough of the villainy of 
 the Quaker, to turn the feelings of gratitude and 
 respect, that he had hitherto felt for Munson, into 
 deep hatred, if not indeed into a spirit of revenge ; 
 but there was still a dark mystery involving ail. 
 He had no reason to doubt the assertions of Fitful, 
 or the woman ; nor yet could he understand why 
 he should be the object of such infernal plans, as 
 the one of which Munson was accused. But he 
 had promised Fitful to follow his injunctions for the 
 
108 PAUL REDDING. 
 
 present, in lieu of which, Fitful had agreed to dis 
 close to the youth, as soon as practicable, which, 
 perhaps would be in a few days, all the circumstances 
 of the case, and satisfactory evidences to prove 
 them. They had just arrived at this state of affairs, 
 when Munson, unceremoniously thrust himself into 
 the apartment. Paul felt, for a moment, an uneasy 
 twitching in his fingers to grasp the Quaker by the 
 white cravat, and give it a few smart twists, much 
 to the discomfort of that shrivelled, lying throat ; 
 but he suppressed his feelings, and only gazed on 
 the old man with a look of stern defiance and con 
 tempt, which so disconcerted the Quaker that Paul 
 felt doubly assured that what he had heard was 
 true. The poor woman recoiled with a shudder 
 into the farthest corner of the room ; but Fitful, 
 with clenched fists and flashing eyes, confronted 
 -the Quaker, and bade him, if he valued his head, 
 to depart. Nathaniel Munson endeavored to look 
 bland ; he smiled a grim smile, and observed to the 
 young man, paying no attention to the threat, that 
 he had better take leave of those good people, and 
 without further delay, go on board the vessel, which 
 was about to be hauled out into the stream, ready to 
 sail early in the morning. 
 
 " I shall do no such thing ! " cried Paul. 
 
 " Thee won t ? " ejaculated the Quaker, with 
 astonishment. 
 
 " No, he won t ! " thundered Fitful, grasping 
 Munson by the collar. 
 
PAUL REDDING. 109 
 
 "He don t mean " 
 
 " Yes, he does mean ! " cried the other, " he 
 does mean to mar your infernal plot ! " and with 
 that, Fitful dragged the Quaker, or rather lifted 
 him bodily to the door. 
 
 " But he s got my money ! " urged the little man. 
 
 "And will keep it! " was the answer. 
 
 No, no, not keep my money ! " screamed the 
 Quaker. 
 
 " I say he will keep it, and take that, as my ac 
 knowledgment for the sum ! " replied Fitful, as he 
 thrust Munson down stairs, with an accompanying 
 kick. 
 
 "But I will have rny money ! " cried he, from 
 the bottom of the stairs. " Help ! murder ! help ! 
 thieves ! " Fitful listened till the cry of " help ! 
 murder! thieves !" &c., died away in the distance, 
 and then turning to Paul, exclaimed, " There is no 
 time to lose ; I know this old hell-hound too well 
 to trust him ; therefore, prepare to leave ; and Mary, 
 for a little while longer, betake yourself to this old 
 scoundrel s house, only for a few days more, for 
 the girl s sake ! " and saying this, he led her to the 
 door. Now hurriedly he grasped those two old 
 rusty pistols from above the mantel-piece, and 
 thrust them into the breast of his coat ; but as he 
 was gathering some papers frorA a private drawer, 
 and stuffing them into his pockets, he heard the 
 sound of clumsy footsteps on the stairs ; and with 
 out farther delay threw open a window, and bidding 
 
110 PAUL REDDING. 
 
 Paul to follow, leapt out on to a shed, in the rear 
 of the house and disappeared, just as a couple of 
 coarsely cloaked figures, followed by Munson, rushed 
 into the apartment. But it was no use ; Fitful and 
 Paul were nowhere to be found ; and the Quaker, 
 bursting with rage and disappointment, bade his 
 myrmidons seize poor Mary, who had loitered at 
 the door, and now stood looking on in stupid amaze 
 ment. They laid their coarse hands upon the 
 woman and dragged her away. How meekly and 
 willingly did she go ! Yes, poor thing, it mattered 
 little to her, whether they led her to a palace, or a 
 prison ! But where was little Edith, all this time ? 
 She was pacing a solitary apartment in the house 
 of Nathaniel Munson, altogether unconscious of 
 what had taken place. She little dreamed that 
 Paul was not ensconced on board the ship ready to 
 depart ; no, she almost sighed to think that such 
 was the case, and then reproached herself for 
 having a wish that would deprive him of so much 
 pleasure. She wondered what could detain poor 
 Mary so long, it was past eleven o clock, and she 
 was not accustomed to keep such late hours ! Vex 
 not thy sweet brain, dear Edith, get thee to thy 
 quiet pillow, while yet it invites thee ; let there be 
 one to-night who shall sleep untroubled ! Let us 
 look for a moment to Fin ; he is walking the deck 
 of his vessel, uttering strange words, and curses 
 mingled with fits of jeering laughter. But where 
 fore should he curse ? he is thinking that a beard- 
 
PAUL REDDING. Ill 
 
 less victim hath slipped from his hands, carrying in 
 his possession five hundred dollars ! And the iron- 
 armed captain laughs, for he carries as great a 
 sum of the Quaker s money in his own pocket, 
 which he has not had the trouble of earning, and 
 which the Quaker may not again easily reclaim. 
 Thus the evil man may laugh and curse alternately ! 
 Fitful and the youth threaded the quiet streets of 
 the Quaker city, and passed unmolestedly over the 
 long bridge that crosses the Schuylkill. Now, 
 having gained the open country, they could walk 
 more leisurely, and mature their plans. Fitful s 
 pace was quick and nervous, so much so, that Paul 
 with difficulty, at times, maintained his place at the 
 side of his companion. The night was clear and 
 still ; it was just such an hour as suited well the 
 romantic feelings of the youth ; but, under the 
 present circumstances, his brain whirling with the 
 excitement of surprises not yet explained, he saw 
 not, felt not, and cared not for surrounding objects, 
 so long as" he felt assured of his companion s and 
 his own safety. The stars above him seemed 
 dizzy, and the shadowy hills rolled like the billows 
 of ocean away, and others rose to view as they 
 passed hurriedly over the uneven road. The mile 
 stones, grim and ghostlike, one after one greeted 
 them through the long, silent night, and the pedes 
 trians, like two shadows moulded from the sur 
 rounding darkness, passed unnoticed over the dusty 
 white turnpike. Daylight found them far on their 
 
112 PAUL REDDING. 
 
 way ; and, at ten o clock, the long line of white 
 houses that constitute the pleasant village men 
 tioned in the early part of our story, greeted their 
 sight, to the no little gratification of both parties. 
 They were fatigued, bodily, with their march, and 
 mentally, by anxiety and the late occurrences. 
 Therefore they gladly hailed the old swinging sign 
 board of the " Half-way House." Numerous 
 wagons of every description filled up the stable 
 yard, and occupied the space before the inn door. 
 A crowd of people were moving back and forth 
 from the bar-room to the porch, some laughing, 
 some swearing, others boasting and bargaining, 
 and not a few calling out in the most uproarious 
 manner for liquor. Dutch, Irish, and English, and 
 bad enough English at that, made a most unintelli 
 gible and unharmonious compound of human voices. 
 Paul and his companion elbowed their way into the 
 bar-room, without much difficulty, since even the 
 bravest, (which means, when speaking of such 
 people, the strongest, as a matter of course,) even 
 the stoutest fell instinctively back to make a pas 
 sage for that strange man whom they all had seen 
 or heard of before, and who, they verily believed, 
 was the devil himself, or one nearly connected with 
 his sooty majesty. 
 
 Mr. Samuel Spatter, encircled by a crowd at 
 one end of the porch, related how he had seen that 
 same strange individual under very suspicious cir 
 cumstances. How he (the mysterious man) had 
 
PAUL REDDING. 113 
 
 walked one night, during a thunder storm, into that 
 same bar-room, filling the place with a strong smell 
 of sulphur; and how he (Mr. Spatter) saw some 
 thing very much resembling a horn sticking through 
 a hole in the old man s beaver ; and he was not 
 quite certain, but thought that he saw the devil s 
 tail switching about from beneath the skirts of the 
 stranger s long overcoat. This dreadful intelli 
 gence sent a thrill of awe through the gaping 
 crowd, and served not a little to make the distance 
 that they maintained between themselves and 
 Fitful, very respectful. The more superstitious 
 members of the company were suddenly- reminded 
 of all the mysterious things they had seen and 
 heard of during their life, and, on comparing notes, 
 concluded that the stranger was the agent of them 
 all. One big, bony, half Dutchman, related how 
 he was sitting at his door one evening just at twi 
 light, and how all at once he saw a big black ball 
 roll round and round in the yard, and how he ran 
 and got his gun and shot at it, but at that very in 
 stant it vanished in a cloud of dust ; and how just 
 then he saw this same dark man dash wildly down 
 through the orchard and disappear behind a big 
 tree ; and when he (the Dutchman) ran up to the 
 place he only found a dead possum ; but conclud 
 ing that it was a bait left there by the devil, he 
 did n t dare to touch it, but went to the same place, 
 the next morning, and it was gone ! The latter 
 circumstance placed his suspicions beyond a doubt ! 
 
114 PAUL REDDING. 
 
 All this made a confusion that Paul could not 
 well understand; nor did the figure of the little 
 host, seated upon the top of an old rusty beer- 
 barrel, " beating time to nothing" with his heels 
 against the sides of the cask, serve to explain the 
 mystery. When he beheld the young man ap 
 proaching, he shook his head in a most melancholy 
 manner, as much as to say it could n t be helped, 
 then cast his eyes again to the floor, and heaved a 
 long sigh that ended with, " Ah, mine Got ! mine 
 Got ! " 
 
 "What s the matter, my good friend?" said 
 Paul, laying his hand on the Dutchman s shoulder. 
 
 " Go vay, go vay ! " sighed the landlord ; " der 
 aint no Half-way House no more der aint no 
 Gotlieb Speckuncrout no more, der aint ! No, no ! 
 all going, going, gone ! to der tivel ! " 
 
 " But tell me," cried the youth, " what does all 
 this mean ? " 
 
 "Veil, veil, suppose it doesn t mean notting ! 
 All I got to say is, der Half-way House is going to 
 
 der tivel and pe " he swallowed the last word, 
 
 but expressed his meaning by dealing a very severe- 
 kick oh the side of the cask. 
 
 Mr. Spatter, where he found that any information 
 was wanted, kindly tendered his services, and soon 
 explained to Paul the whole mystery. How that 
 Captain Cutlass, the warlike gentleman, had come 
 very near fighting a duel with the Hon. Timothy 
 Little worth, and how that he was only appeased in 
 
PAUL REDDING. 115 
 
 his wrath by the loan of two hundred dollars from 
 the honorable gentleman, and how that Mynheer 
 Speckuncrout, like a darned fool, as he was, had, 
 at Mr. Littleworth s suggestion, gone security for 
 the amount. That the warlike gentleman turned 
 out to be a great rascal, just as he (Mr. Spatter) 
 had said he would, although he did n t remember 
 under what circumstances he made the remark ; 
 but that was no matter ; he knew that he had said 
 it somewhere to somebody, and his prophecy had 
 come true, as usual. He went on to say that when 
 some handbills appeared, offering a reward for a 
 certain notorious swindler, the captain very sud 
 denly disappeared, and emigrated to parts un 
 known. Consequently, Mr. Littleworth, knowing 
 Mynheer to be a political opponent, pounced down 
 upon him for the money ; which the landlord was 
 not able to pay just at the time, since he himself 
 had been fleeced of all of his ready cash by the 
 same military gentleman. The consequence of 
 which was, Mynheer Speckuncrout was about to be 
 sold out at vendue by the constable. 
 
 At the conclusion of this piece of intelligence, 
 Fitful and Paul held some conversation apart, in 
 which the latter seemed to make some proposals 
 that met with the approbation of the former ; then 
 stepping up to the landlord, he whispered some 
 thing in the Dutchman s ear that made him open 
 his eyes and mouth very wide ; and, on hearing the 
 same thing repeated, he jumped down from the top 
 
116 PAUL REDDING. 
 
 of the barrel, and snatching his little red cap from 
 off his little bald head, threw it with great disre 
 spect at the form of the Hon. Timothy Littleworth, 
 (who had just entered the bar-room and was stand 
 ing in Napoleon s battle attitude,) and then, in a 
 delirium of pleasure, threw his arms around Paul 
 and embraced him ; then went through the same 
 operation with Mr. Spatter, and his joy knew no 
 bounds till he found that he was embracing Fitful ! 
 The cause of this strange proceeding was only 
 explained when Paul drew from his pocket the 
 money that the Quaker had furnished him, and 
 passed the necessary sum, two hundred dollars, 
 into the hands of Gotlieb Speckuncrout, who, with 
 an air of unbounded triumph, paid the amount over 
 to the astonished prosecutor, and requested that the 
 company would call for what they pleased to 
 drink! That was a great day at the Half-way 
 House ! When the landlord found that Fitful was 
 Paul s friend, he no longer held him in dread, but 
 placed him in estimation next to the youth. Every 
 delicacy that the place could afford was thrust 
 before these two wayworn travellers ; and the best 
 bed in the house was at their disposal, which, 
 perhaps, was the most welcome of any thing that 
 the grateful host could have furnished. 
 
CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 " Amen ! 
 
 To the desolate mourner s prayer, 
 In the palace or prison-cell ; 
 Let thine answering mercy tell, 
 Thou, God ! art there ! 
 
 Amen 1 " 
 
 DDGANNE. 
 
 PAUL had enjoyed for several hours a refreshing 
 sleep, and he awoke in the afternoon feeling quite 
 renewed again. Fitful, strange to say, had not 
 slept, but had occupied the time in writing ; and 
 now, just as the youth awoke, he was adding the 
 superscription to a long letter that he had just 
 finished. " Come, Paul," said he, " we have yet 
 some miles to walk; it is time that we were on 
 our way." 
 
 " To what place do you intend going to-night ? " 
 inquired the youth. 
 
 " To one that you are already familiar with," 
 was the answer. " A few hours hence, boy, and 
 you will know all that you may even wish to know 
 about this mystery ; more, perhaps, than you ought 
 to know for your own happiness. But come, the 
 sun is yet two hours high ; ere it sets, our destina 
 tion may be gained." 
 
 In a few minutes the two travellers were again 
 on their way. They turned their course up the 
 banks of the Brandywine river, and passing under 
 the groves of old chestnut and sycamore trees, 
 
118 PAUL REDDING. 
 
 soon lost sight of the village, and were surrounded 
 by the murmuring of the water, the singing of 
 birds, and the oblique rays of golden sunlight, that 
 slid through the rustling leaves to light the wood 
 land path. Paul became not a little concerned to 
 find his companion relapsing into his wild state. 
 When a squirrel dropped his nut to the ground, and 
 leapt away among the tall branches, Fitful would 
 start aside with a shudder ; and when a dead limb 
 fell beside them, crackling on the ground, he grasp 
 ed the arm of the youth and darted furiously from 
 the woods. But in a short time, they stood on the 
 spot where Paul first encountered the strange man ; 
 and the sun was now just dropping behind the dis 
 tant blue hills. 
 
 "There!" cried Fitful, "you hear the river, 
 
 boiling and fretting, but cannot see it from here 
 
 you see the long dark line of trees that cover its 
 
 banks listen how it moans! Do you hear it? 
 
 Then let me tell you, Paul, there are streams of 
 
 guilt in the world, that, however they may lie 
 
 concealed beneath familiar things, and run through 
 
 hidden ways, still have a voice which- cannot be 
 
 stifled! See yonder! how high yon fish-hawk 
 
 sails ; a dim speck, it would almost emulate the 
 
 stars ! but let me tell you, Paul, to-day that bird 
 
 has sunk lower, amid the turmoil of that dark 
 
 stream that flows yonder, than thousands of the 
 
 winged tribe that soar not so high! Remember 
 
 that* Paul, remember that!" Thus saying, he 
 
PAUL REDDING. 119 
 
 turned to the old apple-tree, described in our first 
 chapter, and exclaimed, " Here, Paul Kedding, on 
 this spot will I deliver to you that which is your 
 own; and let the dead witness that no man is 
 wronged!" and he drew from the breast of his 
 coat a package of papers, and handed them to 
 the youth. "Here," said he, taking the letter 
 that he had that day written, from his pocket, 
 "here, Paul, take this; when I am -no that is, 
 I mean, to-morrow, send that to the place where it 
 is directed to not before not after; but to 
 morrow. As to that package, it is yours ; read it 
 when you please, sooner or later ; all, all is there ! 
 I have done all done my best. God forgive me 
 for having once in my life, done my worst ! You 
 will forgive me," continued he, grasping the youth 
 by the hand, "you will forgive me, will you not?" 
 
 "Indeed," answered Paul, "I know not of any 
 thing you have done that requires my forgiveness." 
 
 " True, my dear boy, true ! but you soon will 
 know, you soon must know, therefore, forgive me ; 
 for the love of of Heaven, let me have your 
 forgiveness ! " 
 
 " Most heartily I give it ! " cried Paul, " let it be 
 for what it may ! " and tears dimmed the eyes of 
 both. "Come," said Fitful, "it has grown quite 
 dark, follow me to yon old stone mansion. There 
 we may rest to-night. You will find a bed in an 
 upper chamber, although no living soul occupies 
 the dwelling ; but that is no matter ; it has been 
 
120 PAUL REDDING. 
 
 my place of retreat for years, no other has occu 
 pied it for many a day ; therefore it will be a fitting 
 place for us to-night." When they arrived at the 
 house, Fitful took from his pocket a big rusty 
 key, and turning it with difficulty in the lock, 
 threw the heavy door back on its grating hinges. 
 As they passed into a large old-fashioned and 
 empty room, their footfalls ran echoing over the 
 building, as if they were messengers sent to the 
 remotest apartments to tell of the arrival of the two 
 guests. Fitful lighted an old, brass lamp, that stood 
 on the mantle-piece, and led the youth up the dusty, 
 creaking stairway. " There," said he, as he stood 
 at the top of the first flight of stairs, "there, that 
 will be my room to-night, yours is one story high 
 er;" and they passed up into a small chamber, 
 furnished with a bed and a couple of old chairs. 
 There hung on the walls two portraits, in very an 
 tique-looking frames. Paul was struck with the 
 pictures, and he stood before them for some time, 
 contemplating the countenances, which were those 
 of a young man and woman. Those quiet eyes, as 
 they looked down into his, seemed to read his very 
 soul, and the youth recalled in his mind, uncon 
 sciously, scenes long since gone by. He turned to 
 inquire of his companion who they were the por 
 traits of, and for the first time, found he was alone ! 
 He stood for awhile lost in amazement, but his 
 gaze rested again on those quiet familiar faces, un 
 til overwhelmed with a flood of recollections, he 
 
PAUL REDDING. 121 
 
 reeled to the bed, and sunk upon its edge, whilst 
 the tears streamed from his burning eyes. Old 
 scenes swept through his brain, like the sunlight 
 and shadow that play over distant fields ; scenes 
 wherein moved the forms of his father and mother, 
 and as he gazed on them with his " mind s eye," 
 they seemed to be the originals of those two pic 
 tures ! Thus he laid wrapped in a dreamy maze 
 of the past, he knew not how long ; but when he 
 looked up, the broad moon was looking in upon 
 him with a brilliancy that almost drowned the faint 
 glimmering of the lamp, and as its white rays 
 gleamed over the faces of the paintings, divesting 
 them of all color, Paul shrunk back with a shudder, 
 for he thought he saw " Poor Mary s" ghost! But 
 he soon upbraided himself for his timidity, and 
 drawing the package that Fitful had given him 
 from his pocket, laid it on the table by the lamp, 
 intending to seize the present opportunity to solve 
 the mystery that had thus gathered its strange web 
 about him. But feeling some misgivings in regard 
 to the safety of his companion, he passed cautiously 
 down stairs, and opening the chamber door as 
 softly as possible, looked in. He beheld Fitful 
 kneeling in the flood of white moonshine that 
 streamed across the floor, muttering most un 
 couth words, while he scraped on the hard oak 
 floor with the blade of a knife. " This is a die for 
 the conscience," he murmured ; " purple is a royal 
 color, and the oak is monarch of the woods ! who 
 8 
 
122 PAUL REDDING. 
 
 may divest the king of his robes ? " Again he 
 scraped on in silence for a few minutes, but his 
 wild thoughts soon burst forth in utterance. " What! 
 shall I write a book that I cannot un write ? O, 
 what a chronicle is here! Did the world under 
 stand the alphabet to these hieroglyphics, what a 
 tale would here be unfolded ! " 
 
 Paul, fearful of being observed by the wild man, 
 retreated again to his chamber, but sat hour after 
 hour listening to the sound of the scraping knife ; 
 for while he could hear that, he felt, in a degree, 
 at ease, since the noise told him that Fitful was still 
 safe in his room. The moon was now no longer 
 looking in at the window ; the lamp was burning 
 low ; he was reminded that he had not yet exam 
 ined the package ; and pricking up the wick of the 
 lamp with the point of a knife, he examined the 
 papers, and the first thing that attracted his par 
 ticular attention was a letter addressed to himself. 
 He opened it and read : 
 
 " MY DEAR BOY : 
 
 "You have been a wanderer in the world; so have 
 I. Wherever you have been, there have I been, 
 also. I have been near you a thousand times 
 when you little guessed it. But all that is passed. 
 The time has arrived. Enclosed among these 
 papers you will find that which will make you 
 independent of the world. The property is mostly 
 
PAUL REDDING. 123 
 
 yours ; but you are not alone ; there are those who 
 will be dependent upon you; fail not to do your 
 duty by them love them as you should love those 
 nearest and dearest to you. This letter is only to 
 prepare you for the perusal of others of deeper 
 importance ; you will find them all at your com 
 mand, and as you read them, 0, curse me not! 
 but weep that humanity should fall so far ; then 
 pray that God may cleanse the blood-stained soul, 
 and forgive, (yes, Paul, it is true ! ) your dying 
 father ! JOHN REDDING." 
 
 This is a disclosure that the reader, as a matter 
 of course, has been prepared for; and, in fact, so 
 had Paul, at times, but not at that moment, when 
 his nerves were torn with excitement, and his brain 
 dizzy with fears and conjectures ! He reeled and 
 staggered, but recovered himself, and his first im 
 pulse was to rush down stairs and throw himself 
 into the arms of his father. The stairs were 
 passed, he knew not how ; he burst into the 
 chamber, but it was vacant ! Fitful was gone ! 
 O, how wildly, how madly did Paul traverse every 
 apartment of that dark, dismal house, calling on 
 the name of his father ! Now, rushing out into the 
 chill morning air, he hurried to the woods, ran up 
 and down by the river side ; nor did he cease his 
 search until he had alarmed the neighbors, and 
 
124 PAUL REDDING. 
 
 called several of them to his assistance. The red 
 morn was already in the east, and the broad day 
 light soon came up to the aid of the distracted son. 
 The company, after a vigilant search, met on the 
 brow of the hill not far from where Paul had first 
 seen Fitful ; disappointment was on every counte 
 nance, and Paul s heart sunk within him as they 
 shook their heads, indicating that their labor had 
 been in vain. 
 
 " Halloa ! " cried one who had wandered some 
 what apart from the rest, " halloa ! he s here ! n 
 With a cry of " where ? where ? " the young man 
 darted in the direction which the other pointed, 
 and beheld his father kneeling, with his head rest 
 ing on the stone, beneath the old apple-tree ! The 
 sun was just sending his first rays over the top of 
 the hill as they lifted the old man up ; there was a 
 quiver on his lips, aud his glazed eye turned to 
 heaven, while he feebly cried, " God forgive me! * 
 and sunk lifeless into the arms of his son ! 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 The grated jail wherein are pent, 
 The guilty and the innocent. 
 
 ANON. 
 
 LET us retrace our steps ; let us walk again 
 amidst that sea of hearts, the city. It is midnight. 
 How solitary are the streets. The houses stand, 
 
PAUL REDDING. 125 
 
 like a certain class of mankind, with their souls 
 shut up in them, and their iron arms laid across 
 their breasts as if to say, " we have tender feelings, 
 we do sympathize with poor suffering mortals yes 
 we feel it here." That is, they feel it safe within, 
 and there they mean to keep it. In traversing the 
 streets of a city at midnight, when the lamps are 
 burning very dim, the stars very clear, and the 
 watchmen are very scarce, what odd fancies crowd 
 upon the brain. At such an hour it seems as 
 though the houses had taken the town, devoured 
 the inhabitants, and noW stood in the most perfect 
 regimental order, ready to "forward, march," as 
 soon as their old commander, the State House, 
 should give the word. Did we say that odd fancies 
 came at such an hour ? They are gone. Yonder 
 is the prison; fancy flies like a bird before such 
 dreadful realities as are suggested by yon iron- 
 beaked cormorant. There she stands watching by 
 the sea of misfortune, waiting impatiently to catch 
 whatsoever the waves may cast up. The darkest 
 billow of that ocean has burst at the prison foot, 
 and its burden is poor Mary. The keys are grating 
 in the iron locks, the doors swing heavily on their 
 hinges, and rude hands thrust the poor creature 
 forward forward into the darkness. She reels 
 against the wall and sinks upon the hard oaken 
 seat ; while her eyes, like those of a little child, 
 turn instinctively their steady gaze toward the 
 dim ray of light that flickers through the grating 
 
126 PAUL REDDING. 
 
 from a neighboring lamp. There she shall rest 
 to-night. Where is Edith ? still is she pacing that 
 little apartment. She hears every approaching 
 footfall ; stands breathless to listen ; but the night- 
 walker passes on. The watchman s cry startles 
 her with a shudder " past one o clock ! " Again 
 and again has she put on her bonnet, and wrapped 
 a shawl about her shoulders ; but the night is dark 
 and still, fearfully still, and she shrinks back afraid. 
 But soon she hears a noise at the street door ; her 
 heart leaps for joy; perhaps tis Mary returned! 
 The maiden grasps the lamp and hurries down, 
 to encounter the fierce, scowling countenance of 
 Munson. 
 
 " O, I m so glad!" exclaimed Edith, scarcely 
 knowing what she said, " where is Mary? " 
 
 " Where she should be ! " growled the Quaker, 
 between his teeth. 
 
 " Do tell me, where ? where ? " said the girl, in 
 the most supplicating manner. 
 
 " Out of my way," cried Munson, lifting his 
 clenched fist ; " out of my way, or I 11 strike thee ! " 
 Edith in her terror, dropped the lamp to the floor, 
 and the miser and the maiden were both deluged 
 in darkness. 
 
 "What did thee do that for?" screamed the 
 Quaker, as he hurried up the stairway ; she made 
 no answer, but stood paralyzed on the spot. 
 
 " Halloa ! " cried the Quaker again, from the 
 top of the second flight of stairs. " Edith, thee jade, 
 
PAUL REDDING. 127 
 
 bring me a light ! " The poor girl hurried away 
 for another lamp, but long before she found one, 
 Munson screamed out again, 
 
 " Bring me a light, I say, a light ! I 11 not stay 
 here in the dark ! " But the fire was out, the 
 matches misplaced, and no light appeared. 
 
 " I 11 not stay in the dark ! " cried the old man 
 again, " to play with devils and ghosts ! no ! no ! " 
 And rushing down stairs he fled through the entry, 
 and the front door slammed loudly at his back. 
 
 Edith sought her chamber again, and flinging 
 herself on the bed, wept all night. The morning 
 came and brought with it nothing welcome but the 
 light. Again she put on her bonnet and shawl, and 
 now hurried out into the streets. Hopes and fears 
 nerved her step ; and with a loud beating heart she 
 sought Fitful s chamber ; the door was open, she 
 passed in, but the room was vacant ! There were 
 papers strewed over the floor, the little table and 
 chairs were upset, the brass clock that of late ticked 
 so mournfully on the mantel-piece now lay broken 
 on the hearth ; all of which were marks of the 
 cowardly Quaker s malice. Poor little Edith stood 
 in the midst of this confusion, and covering her 
 face in her hands, wept afresh. 
 
 "What! must I encounter the fiends every 
 where ? " screamed a shrill voice at her back ; 
 Edith started with affright, and beheld again the 
 bloodshot eyes of Munson glaring upon her. His 
 eyebrows were clenched, a malicious smile was 
 
128 PAUL REDDING. 
 
 playing around his mouth, and his skinny fingers 
 were working nervously against his thumbs. 
 
 "O, my father!" cried Edith, falling upon her 
 knees and clasping her hands in the most imploring 
 manner, " Tell me ! tell me ! what is the matter ? 
 where is Mary ? " Old Munson dropped his chin 
 deep into his neck-cloth, and gazing down into the 
 sorrowful face of the maiden, laughed hideously. 
 
 " Please father father ! " continued Edith, 
 whilst the tears streamed down her pale face. 
 
 " I m not your father ! " cried the Quaker, 
 laughing more maliciously than ever. "I m not 
 your father, I never was ! ha, ha ! You re a 
 beggar, an outcast ! You belong to the poor- 
 house; go home, go where you belong, to the 
 poor-house ! he, he ! " 
 
 At the end of this unfeeling speech, Edith hid 
 her face in her hands, and remained in that attitude 
 for a long time, overwhelmed with confusion, grief, 
 and disappointment. When, with timid eyes, she 
 ventured to look up, she found herself alone. Yes, 
 she thought, alone in every sense of the word 
 poor Mary had disappeared in the most mysterious 
 manner, and her father would no longer acknowl 
 edge her. Now cast off, whither should she go? 
 The last words of Munson still rung in her ear like a 
 funeral knell, " the poor-house ! the poor-house ! " 
 and drawing a chair to the window, she sat gaz 
 ing, she knew not how long, upon the quiet sky. 
 Hour after hour swept away, but she knew it not, 
 
PAUL REDDING. 129 
 
 and she was only awakened from her melancholy 
 reverie by feeling the pressure of a hand upon her 
 shoulder. There was something sympathetic in 
 the touch; her heart leaped, and gladness thrilled 
 her frame ere she well knew why ; but an instant 
 more found her arms encircling the neck of poor 
 Mary ! The woman returned the impassioned 
 caress of the girl, and Edith felt once more that 
 she was not an outcast that there was still one 
 heart that cherished her. Poor Mary, with a 
 dozen others, had been arraigned, that morning, 
 before the police court, but no accuser appearing 
 against her she was released, and her first impulse 
 was to return to Fitful s apartment, where she 
 happily discovered Edith, as we have just described. 
 When the latter had related, as well as she could 
 between sobs and tears, her father s cruel treat 
 ment, the other heaved a heavy sigh, and kissing 
 Edith on the brow, drew the maiden s little hand 
 through her own arm and led her away. Their 
 steps were directed to the house of Munson, which, 
 fortunately for their own quietude, they found did 
 not contain its master. 
 
CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 How rapidly they pass 
 
 To the grave ! 
 The good, the bad, alas, 
 How thoughtlessly go all, 
 Like guests to a banquet-hall, 
 How rapidly they pass 
 
 To the grave ! 
 
 AFTER Paul s first burst of grief had in some 
 degree subsided, the neighbors held a conference 
 with him, in regard to the disposal of FitfuPs body. 
 He determined to have it interred beneath the old 
 apple-tree, and to have a fence built about it for 
 protection, which was accordingly done ; but in 
 removing the big stone, already mentioned, the 
 laborers were terrified at the appearance of a 
 skeleton ! The circumstance was made known to 
 the young man, who, although somewhat astonished 
 at first, at last concluded that he could solve the 
 mystery, but without communicating any of his 
 surmises to those about him, ordered another coffin 
 to be made for the reception of the disinterred 
 bones. As he contemplated this circumstance, it 
 was evident to his mind, that the skeleton had 
 something to do with the mysteries explained in 
 the papers that Fitful had given him, and as he 
 remembered those dreadful disclosures, the injunc 
 tions of his father, in regard to the letter which he 
 had written at the Half-way House, flashed upon 
 
PAUL REDDING. 131 
 
 him. Therefore he immediately sent it off in time 
 for the mail. This being done, he sat down, and 
 as calmly as possible perused again more carefully 
 the papers that Fitful had given him. His late 
 grief had so overwhelmed him, that a new disclosure 
 scarcely produced any visible change in his feelings 
 or countenance. He found that he was heir to a 
 large estate, which Nathaniel Munson had managed 
 thus far to keep from him ; the Quaker s power to 
 trample a family down into the very dust, was thus 
 accounted for. John Redding, otherwise called 
 Fiery Fitful, and Nathaniel Munson, had married 
 two sisters, the only children of a rich old farmer, 
 who had occupied the mansion on the banks of the 
 Brandywine, a place already described. 
 
 Munson, for some reason or other, had incurred 
 the dislike of his father-in-law, and finding him not 
 only likely to live to a good old age, if left to die a 
 natural death, but also likely to cut him off in his 
 will, therefore he formed a plot, which was ma 
 tured and executed in the following manner. 
 Having bribed the cut-throat fellow, that has already 
 been presented to the reader in the character of a 
 sea captain, his next plan was to get his brother-in- 
 law under the influence of brandy, (a thing in those 
 anti-temperance days not hard to accomplish,) and 
 then excite him to rage against the old man, and in 
 that state couple him with Fin, and send the drunk 
 en man and the villain to accomplish the designs 
 of a base coward. Thus were his plans matured, 
 
132 PAUL REDDING. 
 
 and thus were they accomplished ! John Redding 
 was a murderer, and ever after that, not only was 
 he borne down by the weight on his conscience, 
 but was entangled in the web that that wily villain, 
 the Quaker, had thrown around him. He dared 
 not dispute whatever claims Munson was inclined 
 to present ; thus all that had ever been his and his 
 family s, with the exception of the smallest possible 
 amount to subsist on, went into the coffers of the 
 miser. Paul read this part of the story calmly ; 
 but with a deep determination that, not only Mun 
 son, but Fin, his accomplice, should be brought to 
 answer for their share in the crime. Only once 
 did the mingled feelings of revenge, surprise, and 
 pleasure, gain any outward manifestations ; it was 
 when he learnt that " poor Mary," Munson s house 
 keeper, was his own mother ! and that little Edith 
 Munson, as he had been used to call her, was his 
 own sister ! O, what a torrent of feelings had 
 torn his breast in the short space of three days ! 
 In that time he had embarked, as he thought, for 
 Italy ; had been saved, as Fitful said, literally from 
 the jaws of a shark ; had walked many miles be 
 neath the silent stars ; had saved his benefactor, 
 the landlord, from ruin ; had no sooner found a 
 father than he lost him ; had come into a large 
 fortune; and, what was best of all, had found a 
 mother and sister to enjoy it with him ! As soon 
 as he saw his father interred with the proper cere 
 monies, he hastened to the city to embrace those 
 
PAUL REDDING. 133 
 
 nearest and dearest to him, and to carry out his 
 plans in regard to Munson and Fin. But when he 
 arrived in town, he found to his no little surprise, 
 that the Quaker, and the sea captain with his crew, 
 had already been seized, through the instrumentality 
 of the letter which his father had written. With 
 what feelings of grief and pleasure did he fly to the 
 arms of his mother and sister! Edith wept for 
 sorrow at the news of the death of her father, and 
 wept for joy, as she clasped the neck of her only 
 brother, and for the first time embraced "poor 
 Mary," as her real mother ! By degrees, and 
 under the kind attentions of Edith and Paul, Mary 
 recovered so far as to be a comfort to those about 
 her, and enjoy the caresses of her two children, 
 who were ever anxious to administer to her wants 
 and enjoyments. 
 
 But let us look back a little ; let us see how the 
 fiend and originator of the sorrow which we have 
 had occasion to witness, tottered to his fall. Mun 
 son no sooner learned that the authorities had seized 
 Fin and his crew, than he suddenly disappeared 
 from the eyes of all. No one guessed of his where 
 abouts. But we will penetrate his retreat. High up 
 in that dark, little room, where, but a few nights 
 since, we saw him closeted with his accomplice, 
 Fin, had he slunk unseen away, like the hunted 
 fox. Crouched up on the old iron-bound chest, he 
 sat with his feet under him, his elbows on his knees, 
 and his face resting in his skinny hands. Now 
 
134 PAUL REDDING. 
 
 swaying back and forth, as if to lull his growing 
 fears to rest ; now starting convulsively, and glaring 
 wildly at the door, whenever a sound met his ear; 
 and again uttering the most fearful curses, he 
 would clutch his fingers madly together, until the 
 long sharp nails penetrated his own shrivelled 
 cheeks. Thus with his brain burning, his eyes dry 
 and hot, his mouth parched, did he sit crouched upon 
 that old chest from morning until night. But, O, 
 the night ! The black night, that brought with it 
 all the terrors of imagination, together with the 
 fears of dreadful realities ! O night ! what a 
 scourge hast thou for the evil conscience ! Day 
 light, with her living, searching, acting officers of 
 justice, hath not the thousandth part of the horrors 
 of thy dark silence! Munson dared not crawl 
 forth from his retreat ; he saw in imagination myr 
 midons of the iron-handed law, waiting at every 
 turn and corner. The darkness came, and the 
 Quaker dared not look into it, he shut his eyes and 
 covered them with his hands. But closed eyelids 
 and hands were not enough ; his fears saw through 
 all these ; and he beheld the white ghost of his 
 father-in-law peering into his face. Again he saw 
 a figure swinging from a gallows, whirling and 
 swaying listlessly in the winds ; cold lips whispered 
 in his ear, " Behold thyself!" And the Quaker, 
 bursting with terror, sprung forward, with his face 
 downwards, on to the floor. The night passed 
 away ; and the morning found the officers searching 
 
PAUL REDDING. 135 
 
 the dwelling of Nathaniel Munson. Passing from 
 room to room as they ascended the stairs, they 
 were at last brought to the place of the Quaker s 
 concealment. Once, twice, and thrice did they 
 knock, but no answer came, and they burst the 
 door. The old man, trembling, pale and haggard, 
 sat in the middle of the floor, and gazed wildly at 
 the men as they entered. They approached him ; 
 he gasped and gasped, as if for breath to scream, 
 but could not ; then, being too exhausted to rise, 
 with his hands and feet, he crawled backwards into 
 the farthest and darkest corner of the room, his 
 whole frame shivering as with the ague, his fallen 
 underjaw quivering, his thin hair strewed wildly 
 about his face, and his red eyes starting from their 
 sockets ! Such was the wreck of humanity which 
 on that day was incarcerated within cold stone 
 walls and iron gratings. Such was Nathaniel 
 Munson, the Quaker ! 
 
 Fin and his crew had been seized as pirates, and 
 Munson as one who was concerned in getting the 
 spoils of the traffic without dipping his own hands 
 in blood ; but believing that he was to be tried both 
 for the murder of his father-in-law, and as a spec 
 ulator in piracies, and hearing that his own son had 
 turned state s evidence, he resolved to anticipate 
 the law, and was found, one morning, suspended to 
 the grating of his cell by his neck handkerchief; he 
 was dead. Fin was executed on Bush hill, and the 
 most of his crew were sent to the State prison, 
 
136 PAUL REDDING. 
 
 many of them for life ;. where, in the course of time, 
 Captain Cutlass, the warlike gentleman, also was 
 lodged for safe keeping, notwithstanding he pro 
 tested that his preference was in favor of the king s 
 service. Mr. Ichabod Inkleton, in the course of a 
 few years, died with a severe fit of the " delirium 
 tremens" which served as a timely warning to his 
 friend, Mr. Christopher Scrapp, who, we believe, is 
 to this day engaged in the innocent amusement of 
 drawing what he fondly considers very severe 
 satires on the " opposite party." The Hon. Timo 
 thy Littleworth, a very pussy old man, still persists 
 in the belief that he resembles Napoleon, and 
 when he has been engaged in a warfare with his 
 bigger half, and gets the worst of the bargain, and 
 is banished from the house, as is always sure to be 
 the case, he finds a sufficient revenge in calling his 
 wife "the Duke of Wellington," and himself 
 Bonaparte, the great, but unfortunate emperor. 
 
 And now that we have gathered together the 
 loose threads of our story, in the poetic language 
 of Sands, we exclaim, 
 
 " Good-night to all the world ! there s none 
 Beneath the overgoing sun, 
 To whom I feel or hate or spite, 
 And so to all a fair good-night ! " 
 
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