UNJV. OF CALIF. LffiRARY, LOS ANGELES
 
 i <
 
 Stubs of Time 
 
 +*r 
 
 By jefcwarfc Cumberland) 
 
 Illustrations by 
 tbe Butboc
 
 Entered according to Act of Congress in the year 1904, by 
 
 P. H. ATLETT, 
 In the Office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington. 
 
 Press of Nixon- Jones,St. Louis, 1904.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 APOLOGY 5 
 
 DEDICATION : To CLARA : A RHAPSODY .... 7 
 
 THE SEAL OF DE BUELEYVILLE 19 
 
 UNCLE BILLY'S ADVICE 115 
 
 NOVEMBER 138 
 
 MISTRESS CARRINGTON OF VIRGINIA 158 
 
 AFTER ALL 207 
 
 2126254
 
 APOLOGY. 
 
 APOLOGY. 
 
 At the request of friends (whose literary discrimination 
 and taste I do not guarantee) I submit this heterogeneous 
 collection of writings to the press. Perhaps it is with our 
 books as it is with ourselves we cannot see them as 
 others do ; yet, in justice to myself, I will say that I am 
 fully aware that there are many shortcomings herein con- 
 tained. I confess to extravagancies of rhetoric and fancy, 
 possible errors of grammar, crudities of style and construc- 
 tion all of which I have had neither the time nor incli- 
 nation to correct or ameliorate. The productions have 
 been the outcome of odd moments of leisure stubs of 
 time and I let them go as they are, without pruning or 
 patching. 
 
 Should any deem them worthy of adverse criticism, let 
 the blame be laid on my friends, who, perchance, with evil 
 intent and a subtle application of that seductive unction of 
 flattery, to which we are all more or less susceptible, especi- 
 ally in connection with our fond foibles and hobbies, have 
 led me to believe that there is some merit among the dross. 
 
 I might say, with Poe, that literature has been to me, not 
 a purpose, but a passion and a pastime. Circumstances 
 have always demanded that whatever plug of a Pegasus 
 nature bestowed upon me should be usually hitched to a
 
 6 STUBS OF TIME. 
 
 more practical vehicle than the ethereal car of dreams and 
 visions in which literati must embark for Parnassian pas- 
 sage. When my jaded equine has been turned loose to 
 cavort in the pleasant fields and daisied meadows, it has 
 been only after a day at the plow, with the sweat-marks on 
 his back, and the thunder of his neck all chafed with the 
 wearying collar (to stretch metaphorical latitude). Hence, 
 his gambols should be regarded charitably ; if they appeal- 
 stiff, stilted, queer or ungraceful, give him a grain of 
 allowance. 
 
 Of the illustrations, the less said the better. Let them 
 howl for themselves. There is one, however, which I feel 
 will make amends for the rest. It is not an original, nor 
 am I fortunate owner of its priceless prototype ; but it is a 
 replica of a wondrous and perfect piece of artistic creation. 
 The possessor of the original was most influential among 
 those who persuaded me into publication. My final yield- 
 ing was conditioned upon permission to use the picture as a 
 frontispiece. Such a bargain I regard as a masterstroke of 
 policy on my part ; for I feel confident that with so beauti- 
 ful, and heretofore unpublished, work of art in my book, its 
 sale cannot but be immense in spite of its other contents. 
 With such a picture adorning its front page a census report 
 could not fail to speedily become the popular book of the 
 year. 
 
 EDWARD CUMBERLAND.
 
 DEDICATION. 
 
 DEDICATION 
 
 To CLARA: A RHAPSODY. 
 
 " She lives, and hath a family; but 'tis not mine: so say I she's 
 dead." Etherege. 
 
 "Here, boy, bring me a pen I have seen something in a 
 woman's eye, and I am mad to write." 
 " A goose-quill, Sir? " 
 
 " No, thou fool, but the plume of a lark or nightingale, or an 
 eagle's primary. I feel it in me to soar, and sing sweetly." 
 "And your ink, Sir? " 
 " Let it be the blood of a dove." 
 " Your script, Sir? " 
 
 " The pelt of a white doe that died of love." 
 " And you would write that you saw in her eyes? " 
 u Ay, thou ninny." 
 " A woman's eye is never under oath: be careful, Sir." 
 
 Charles Sedley. 
 
 Sweetheart, alas ! I sadly realize 
 
 That 'twere, indeed, a vain and fruitless stress 
 
 The feeling born of looking in your eyes 
 
 To daring essay to express. 
 
 I know woe's me ! 'tis but a sacrifice, 
 The effort best that we can put forth here 
 A patient climbing to the Paradise 
 Which we shall miss that others be more near.
 
 STUBS OF TIME. 
 
 We strive, we work, we hope, we die ; 
 We never reach the heights we feel : 
 While e'er before us still more high 
 Mounts the path of our ideal. 
 
 We trudge our path, and turn aside, 
 And rest resigned in the shade, 
 All's well if life has only cried, 
 " On," to the Race "no retrograde ! " 
 
 E'en with your picture here before me now, 
 As lowly paddock singing to the sun, 
 The humble efforts of unlaurell'd brow 
 I offer you the each and every one. 
 
 I look on thy face, and dream ; 
 I look on thy lips, and sigh ; 
 And Heaven and Hell doth seem 
 Within thy face to lie.
 
 DEDICATION. 
 
 Yes, Hell it is, yet sweet 
 Great God, I'd have it so ! 
 And bitter Heaven, meet 
 For a soul in dulcet woe, 
 
 Thy lips, thy brow, thy hair, 
 Thy cheek, thy neck, thine eye 
 Were Basilisk half .so fair 
 I could but look and die. 
 
 I will not now complain 
 That I have drunk the wine ; 
 I'll take the lees of pain 
 With the pleasure that was mine. 
 
 I will not now complain 
 Because the wine is gone : 
 O, Lord, 'twas sweet to drain 
 That cup no god would scorn ! 
 
 I do not rue I quaff' d : 
 The wine was worth the bane ; 
 Though Sin did brew the draught 
 Fain would I drink again.
 
 10 
 
 STUBS OF TIME. 
 
 Not mine the call to preach and moralize 
 Some ships must sink that others know the shoal - 
 Content to drink, and then to agonize, 
 I fall and fail, still pointing to the goal. 
 
 New creeds, new faith, and still a deeper yearn ; 
 More hungry grows the mighty Human Heart 
 For deeds that love and living words that burn, 
 For men who bear to other Meccas than the mart. 
 
 They laugh at love whose heart is cold, 
 They laugh at love, and mocking sneer, 
 Forget their youth, and hug their gold, 
 And Mammon mounts on Cupid's bier.
 
 DEDICATION. 11 
 
 Love, O Death, O Time 
 Dispensers three of human fate, 
 Unto your awesome shrine 
 
 1 come and supplicate. 
 
 Tell me the riddle of the Sphinx, 
 The cause and why of weal and woe. 
 Speak out! a coward, he who shrinks 
 From cursed truth, or fears to know. 
 
 A suppliant at thy solemn fane, 
 
 A love eterne my subtle myrrh, 
 
 A frankincense of holy pain, 
 
 And pastil bless'd a thought of Her. 
 
 Hear me, I pray, and give me ruth, 
 Ye halcyon three, ye dread triune : 
 An humble seeker after truth, 
 O solve for me life's tragic rune. 
 
 Why hearts beat only for to break ; 
 Why birth is budding of the bier ; 
 Why close upon gay laughter's wake 
 Comes the inevitable tear. 
 
 Why passion comes with sacred fires ; 
 Why wisdom seeks in vain to find 
 Whence comes the yearning which aspires, 
 And bids us look beyond mankind.
 
 12 STUBS OF TIME. 
 
 O, speak, ye three is man all clay, 
 A puppet and a mere machine? 
 Is science vain ? Will truth gainsay 
 The teaching of the Nazarene ? 
 
 Is love a farce? Must we decry 
 The pilot who directs his way 
 By cynosure of woman's eye, 
 By faith in what the feelings say ? 
 
 There's more wisdom in the kiss of love 
 Than e'er oped to sage or sibyl key : 
 In thrush's trill and coo of dove 
 Lies meaning deeper than the sea. 
 
 A man, a maid, a garden eld 
 Rose-scented zephyrs sighing low : 
 Well knew I why her bosom swell 'd 
 Why shone her eyes and thrilled me so.
 
 DEDICATION. 13 
 
 A rose, a song, a maiden's eye, 
 A lover's kiss, a glass of wine, 
 A summer's eve, a starry sky ; 
 A single soul was hers and mine. 
 
 A song, a rose in golden hair, 
 The twilight and the harvest moon, 
 A scent of flowers on the air, 
 The heaven of love's highest noon. 
 
 A man, a maid, a lullaby 
 Of drowsy swallows nesting near, 
 A whispered word, a gentle sigh, 
 A timid look of love's sweet fear. 
 
 A clasp of hands, a touch of lips : 
 Two souls rushed into Paradise. 
 What reckoned they of Furies' whips, 
 Of iron Fate's exacting price? 
 
 Love hurled two lives through Heaven's bliss 
 
 Twain spirits welded into one ; 
 
 While mystery of the magic kiss 
 
 Did rapturous through their beings run. 
 
 A man, a maid, a vesper song, 
 The cup of Time holds Lethe's ale : 
 Drink deep, who may, forget the wrong, 
 Kill memory of the bliss and bale.
 
 14 
 
 STUBS OF TIME. 
 
 A solemn dirge, a dolorous knell, 
 
 A cross of roses fair and white, 
 
 Some lilies pale, some immortelle ; 
 
 Cold lips are kissed Love's last good-night. 
 
 A somber eve, a silent tomb, 
 A wind which moans in monotone, 
 Dark shadows and a sense of gloom, 
 A heartache and a man alone. 
 
 While the cedars sigh and moan, 
 While the night-birds plaintive cry, 
 In the dark I go alone 
 To where my Love does lie. 
 
 Then the low moon through the trees 
 Gleams and blinks as tearful eye ; 
 And falling on my knees, 
 I ask the Whence? and Why?
 
 DEDICATION. 
 
 15 
 
 Gray Sisters sad, despondent three, 
 Invoke oblivion on the backward view : 
 The Past is dead, so let it be : 
 The Present calls, and bids us do. 
 
 Time opes again the fatal cask 
 
 Pandora's box and lets the single inmate go: 
 
 Hope fled, we turn unto our task 
 
 To deaden thought, forget, and lessen woe. 
 
 Dark Clotho spins, and Eros plucks the stran 
 To tangle and to knot it all awry : 
 Yet we believe as aye has every man 
 That all is done beneath a master's eye. 
 
 Of love and "work is saved the race ; 
 They give us faith, and teach us bear, 
 And help us bravely smile and face 
 The undercurrents of despair. 
 
 The years pass on, and we grow blind ; 
 The narrow world is more ; the beaten ways 
 We tread, and seldom see behind 
 The vanished visions of the early days.^
 
 16 STUBS OF TIME. 
 
 So they of years will bow the knee 
 At memory's shrine, and offer up 
 The dregs of life to Verdandi 
 Faint tang of youth still in the cup. 
 
 While they of days, with heart of hope, 
 Stretch arms out to seductive Skuld : 
 Full sanguine youth ! while sages grope 
 They conquer Fate by playing fool. 
 
 And they of years not old but ripe 
 To Ulder give their time and praise, 
 And bearing brave her frequent stripe, 
 Repeat by rote her prosy lays. 
 
 The clock ticks loud, the lamp burns dim, 
 The embers glow 'mid the dark smoke's curl, 
 The wild wind wails a weird hymn 
 While midnight broods o'er a sleeping world. 
 
 The curtains shake, the casements dance, 
 And a lone man lists to the solemn note 
 The deep dull ghostly dissonance 
 Of night- winds in the chimney's throat. 
 
 I go to the grave of my dear dead Love ; 
 I open the urn where the ashes lie 
 Ashes of memory cold and gray 
 Ashes of roses sadly sweet :
 
 DEDICATION. 17 
 
 And lo! there, too, in the urn I ope 
 
 Lies the corse of a bright and youthful Hope 
 
 Young Hope that e'er had conquered rue, 
 
 When I buried my Love I buried it too : 
 
 I buried them both, but She never knew. 
 
 Then as I dream and ponder there, 
 
 Torn in a fierce psychomachy, 
 
 There seemed to come a phantom fair, 
 
 Wondrous, shimmering, vaguely bright, 
 
 With golden mist of radiant hair ; 
 
 With augel face of love and light: 
 
 And spake it thus, I thought, to me : 
 
 L'ENVOI. 
 
 " Do not despair because thou canst not see the way 
 
 All Heaven and Earth lies in a mightier hand : 
 
 Do thy appointed task : be brave ; be true ; 
 
 The good will last, the wrong is but to-day : 
 
 The time will come when all shall understand, 
 
 And know the measure of the work they do. 
 
 Do not despair because the load is much too great 
 For thy poor shoulders, and thy heart is sore ; 
 While wails the voice of travailed souls in vain, 
 And life seems but a dark and grim estate. 
 Be kind, and love, and God will keep the score, 
 And balance up all work and woe and pain. 
 2
 
 18 STUBS OF TIME. 
 
 Do not despair because unknown the will of Fate 
 No man is great through what he knows ; for all 
 The wisdom of the sages and the world's accreted lore 
 Is but a jot. Through what he is and does a man is 
 
 great. 
 
 Take thou life's lessons, and drink its lees of gall, 
 Learning that brain though mighty, yet the heart is 
 
 more. 
 
 Do not despair because thou loved but to be left for- 
 lorn: 
 
 God's laws are wise ; let sorrow be a touch 
 Of His kind hand, shaping the stubborn mould 
 To higher value and a fairer form. 
 And Midas-fingered pain let it be such 
 As striking thee shalt turn thy earth to gold."
 
 FRIAR SNIOKE.
 
 THE SEAL OF DE BUKLEYVILLE. 19 
 
 THE SEAL OF DE BURLEYVILLE. 
 
 A TALE OF OLD ENGLAND. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 " My masters all, this is St. Thomas'-day, 
 And Christmas now can't be far off, you'll say. 
 And when you to the Ward-motes do repair, 
 I hope such good men will be chosen there, 
 As constables for the ensuing year, 
 As will not grudge the watchmen good strong beer." 
 
 The Baron de Burleyville frowned, and fingered the 
 pommel of his sword pettishly : 
 
 " I took thee for a broad man, Friar," he said. 
 
 " Ay, my Lord," quoth Friar Snicke, " and so I be 
 too broad, I fear, both in body and mind for the straight 
 and narrow cut of my cloth." 
 
 "The more reason," continued the Baron, "that the 
 twenty pounds the perquisite of the honorable office of 
 Lord of Misrule, Master of Merry Disports and Abbot of 
 Unreason should not come amiss to you. I have noted 
 that thy paunch doth batten more speedily than thy purse, 
 and its rotund proportions do now collude against the safety 
 of thy gown. 'Tis time thou didst buy more ells of 
 Leicester grey, and garb thyself anew, giving due allowance 
 for thy future fat expansiveness. In fact, I'm sure that 
 with so brave a knight of the tankard and table as thou art,
 
 20 STUBS OF TIME. 
 
 the lavish boards of this Christmas season will make such 
 steps a clamorous need. Do you know that I have ordained 
 and ordered so big a hackin for the Holy Day that 'twill 
 take two cooks to heave it into the oven : so have I com- 
 manded them to be astir long ere the first cock crows, and 
 have it on the fire, under penalty of a skimmington ride 
 through Harbledown market place, as lazy trollops. Also 
 Mistress Mince Pie, Dolly Dumpling, and Dame Plum 
 Porridge will be more buxom than ever, and until Plough 
 Monday will dispense a jocund reign, compauied with all 
 their usual retinue of doughty viands. There shall be 
 floods of lamb's wool, torrents of furmety, mountains of 
 brawn, seas of sack and stout, cataracts of malmsey, and 
 fountains of ale. The vintners of Gascony and Burgundy 
 shall loose their stop-cocks at the will of my cellarer ; there 
 shall be boars' heads and pavos " 
 
 " Enow, my Lord, enow! " interrupted the Friar, as he 
 compressed his lips with an expression of pain and worry 
 totally inconsistent with the jovial trio of contiguous 
 chins; " thou wouldst tempt me beyond my strength. 
 Consider my vocation, and speak of the beauties of fasting 
 and abstinence, sanctity of hunger and self-denial, loveli- 
 ness of bread and water, and how the spirit grows fat and 
 strong on them, and more able to combat the Prince of 
 Darkness. Discourse of spiritual foods, my Lord, of 
 scriptural texts and proverbs, psalms, liturgies, and prayers 
 that nourish and expand the godly part of a man. Tell me 
 of hungry caverns, rather than well-stored larders, sterile 
 wind-swept moors, instead of tables which groan under 
 steaming dishes. Thou knowest I am a weak man. 'Tis
 
 THE SEAL OF DE BURLEYVILLE. 21 
 
 said the devil does love a too full stomach, and often lurks 
 around the dishes of a holy feast and entereth the heart of 
 many a godly man by way of the gullet. I have opined 
 that in the jousts with Satan a man's stomach is the most 
 vital point, and in there his poison shafts are most like to 
 find lodgement and start cankerous wounds which in time 
 worketh corruption to the entire corporation. So I would 
 fortify my dietary with wise and sacred maxims ; I would 
 armor my digestion with pious conceptions, and be a spirit- 
 ual Apicus a sufferer from edacity of soul feasts. I 
 would so fill my mouth with sanctitude that no intemper- 
 ance or gross gluttony could find passage therein." 
 
 " Thou art a good sermoner, Friar; but I tell thee, man, 
 that this season my sirloins will be fatter and more savory 
 than ever before. For five months past have my geese and 
 ducks been dieted on oats, chestnuts, and parings of apple, 
 and the flavor of their flesh will ' ' 
 
 " I pr'ythee stop, my Lord," groaned the Friar: " thou 
 knowest I do much incline me to a weakness for duck. 
 Lord be with me ! ' ' 
 
 " Furthermore, Friar, I have ordered a new and big- 
 ger wassail bowl from the potter at London of twelve 
 pottles capacity twelve measures of excellent hippocras, 
 ale or French wine, and " 
 
 ' ' Lord have mercy ! ' ' 
 
 " And I have ordained, designed, and ordered that the 
 wassail shall be richer and more spicy I will concoct it 
 myself, and mix it with a sprig of blessed rosemary. It 
 shall have more generous apportionments of toast and 
 nutmeg, crabs "
 
 22 STUBS OF TIME. 
 
 ' ' Sancta Maria mater Dei ! ' ' 
 
 " Crabs and rosy-cheeked pippins shall bob on its 
 surface, nodding health and hilarity to all: ginger and 
 cloves " 
 
 " Ohe! jam satis. Nunc dimittis! " 
 
 "Shall be in bountiful portions. Venison, custards, and 
 capons, snipes, woodcocks, and quail will be attendant on 
 my table. Fourscore boars have I bandaged for to make 
 brawn. My pipkins shall be in sore travail with the weight 
 of many puddings." 
 
 The Baron stopped and looked at his companion. The 
 Friar sighed. Perplexity and anguish had secured a diffi- 
 cult footing on the sleek and rounded contours of his face, 
 and now brooded there, evidently out of place, and looking 
 incongruous with the twinkling eyes and the ineffaceable 
 lines of merriment. He clasped his hands solemnly, and 
 gazed mournfully at the logs burning in the great fireplace. 
 Two big beads of perspiration- one on each brow, 
 brought forth partly by the heat of the fire and partly by 
 the mental strain, coursed slowly down his florid cheeks. 
 
 "Yet, that is not all," continued the Baron, driving home 
 his wedge ; "I would likewise mention incidentally that I 
 have engaged for the high-days the talents and the services of 
 two Castilian dancers, who will coach it from London and 
 be with us by Christmas Eve. I wot these damsels will frisk 
 it with a lively step and give us much rare entertainment 
 with their gavottes, rigadoons, and blithesome galopades. 
 I did see them gambol and whirl a morris inDrury Lane, all 
 bedight with bells and gay Indian scarfs. Most round were 
 their bosoms, and red their smiling lips. Their eyes flashed
 
 THE SEAL OF DE BURLEYVILLE. 23 
 
 and sparkled like old wine i' the sunlight. Their kirtles 
 came midway 'tween their hips and knees, as though they 
 fain would not further hide what God had made so beautiful." 
 
 The Baron paused to see how told his words. 
 
 Several successive beads of sweat chased each other down 
 the Friar's rubicund face in the course marked by the first. 
 He sighed again more deeply ; his lips moved as though in 
 prayer, and he fingered the beads of his rosary. The 
 mirth-rucks about his eyes and mouth tightened and 
 straightened themselves into lines of pain. 
 
 The Baron went on : "So have I commanded that 
 there be no dearth of mistletoe in all my halls and cham- 
 bers. In this season of good will let us all have young 
 hearts, and give rein to wanton folly. During the inter- 
 vals of our high and low masses, our complins, vespers 
 and magnificats we shall offer up hymns and orisons to 
 Erycina and her little son, to Momus, Bacchus, and 
 Fornax. Those dancers are most roguish wenches, and 
 even the thin blood of an old man could well run warm 
 and quick at sight of them, and make one crave the license 
 of the sacred mistle. I took thee for a man of red blood, 
 Friar, a man of such generous righteousness that thou 
 couldst temper and harmonize the cold ichor of piety with 
 the good red fluid of human veins, without affront to 
 either. I held thee to be a man of such large charity and 
 benevolence that thou couldst hob-nob cheek-and-jowl with 
 the devil, and yet keep thy peace with Heaven." 
 
 " My Lord," replied the mendicant, " consider my 
 cloth bear in mind my holy profession, think on my 
 vows, and urge not the point."
 
 24 STUBS OF TIME. 
 
 " And so do I, most worthy man of God, nor see I any- 
 thing in the office of Lord of Misrule that comports not with 
 sincere religion and a devout heart. Hence, knowing thee 
 to be a most capable man, and one who can spring a quip, 
 turn a jest, trill a canzonet, or even shed a tear, if need 
 be whichsoever the occasion calls for I have asked thee 
 to take charge of my Christmas ceremonies and heartsome 
 festivities, believing that no master, an thou wilt, could be 
 more acceptable to the company or hold a merrier swaj'. 
 What sayest thou ? ' ' 
 
 " Last Christmastide, my Lord, rememberest thou how I 
 did eat and drink o'er much at the tavern of the Blue Goose 
 in Canterbury? " 
 
 " I did hear it so rumored, Friar." 
 
 " Aye, I wot you did, and the gossip went broadcast the 
 land as the seed of the thistle. The tattlers did shake 
 it to the winds and wag their heads in shocked sanctimony. 
 ' Friar Snicke,' they said, ' the pharisee and hypocrite 
 that reputed minister of Heaven, did sing bawdy ballads, 
 kiss the bar -maid, and drank more ale than the captain of 
 the Welsh guards.' 
 
 " Thus it went on till out of sheer mortification I took a 
 journey to Woldmer Forest, built me there a leaky, lowly 
 hut, and abided therein forty days and nights, doing much 
 fasting and penance, and inflicting divers bodily hurts on 
 myself to subjugate my carnality. Such little food as I 
 took was roots and haw berries, my drink was stagnant 
 morass water teeming with bugs and frog spawn ; I breathed 
 the raw, dank mists, slept on muggy stones, kept burrs in 
 my clogs ; mine huke was a goat's hide ; I was circumvested
 
 THE SEAL OF DE BURLEYVILLE. 25 
 
 in mud ; and all the while I praised God continually, said 
 prayers and sang dulia and doxology without surcease. So 
 did I chasten my flesh till the sick and needy sinners sent 
 for me, and I came forth reluctantly, much benefited, how- 
 ever, and with a firmer grasp on things true and righteous." 
 
 " And was there jot or tittle of truth in the gossip of the 
 malicious slanderers ? ' ' 
 
 "The ale was good, my Lord, and my memory is bad. 
 You know there is a notion to the effect that during Christ- 
 mastide the devil and all his imps are bound fast in hell, 
 and are impotent to work or devise ill till the holy time be 
 past. So inclining me to this doctrine, within the hallowed 
 days I have always been more merciful to my flesh, and 
 give it chance to taste temperately of good worldly things 
 of this transitory estate. I have held it safe to be less dis- 
 cretionary and rigorous in the performance of my holy 
 offices. If the Evil One be so shackled and gyved, 
 then can he not pounce like a kite on him who runs but a 
 little space from the path of strict virtue. When the devil 
 regains his liberty I turn again to the narrow wynd of 
 rectitude." 
 
 " Marry, well said, Friar! " exclaimed the Baron, some- 
 what triumphantly. " And what matter, then, if thou 
 takest the office and allow a long rein to enjoyment? " 
 
 The Friar arose and puckered his lips. He turned to the 
 oriel window and looked wistfully across the heath to where 
 the Stour glittered in its distant valley like a slender falchion 
 of silver. 
 
 " I will take it under advisement, my Lord," he said, 
 turning to the Baron. " My conscience is not altogether
 
 26 STUBS OF TIME. 
 
 easy. The Scriptures give no authority for the doctrine. 
 It may not be true. I will spend the night in prayer " 
 
 " Did I mention, Friar, how red the lips of those dancers 
 were? " put in the Baron. 
 
 " Ay, my Lord, and I doubt not the devil is the artist 
 who paints a maiden's lips." 
 
 " And their ankles and their calves, good Friar did I 
 speak of them ? ' ' 
 
 "Not that I heard, my Lord, but there be many 
 temporal things to which my ears refuse an audience. A 
 churchman, my Lord, takes nor heed nor hearing of such 
 follies. He beholds men and women only as souls sans 
 body and sans sex." 
 
 " Did I tell thee further that the damsels imparted to 
 me in confidence and secrecy that they did have a lusty 
 penchant for a man of orders especially if he be portly 
 and well-fed who could give them absolution for any 
 petty sins or malfeasances which, through the tendency 
 thereto bequeathed them by Mother Eve, they might 
 commit? " 
 
 u Nay, nay, my Lord, you told me nothing of it, nor do 
 I wish such idle talk of girls to pollute the portals of mine 
 ears, where only solemn masses, motets, and well-spoken 
 words of gospel should sound and reverberate. Let thy 
 utterances be such, and I will guttle them as eagerly as 
 the desert doth the dew. The seeds of sin do creep in 
 through the ears, and in the soil of the mind do sprout and 
 germinate, and blossoming into evil thought, do ripen into 
 evil deed. I must be gone farewell, my liege, I " 
 
 " Think on my proposition, Friar; and as thou thinkest
 
 THE SEAL OF DE BURLEYVILLE. 27 
 
 well, so answer well. Such Christmas as I mean to have 
 will recompense thee for a year of Lent in Woldmer Forest. 
 Think on't all damsels, wassail, mistletoe, high-heaped 
 platters, and thou seneschal and suzerain of them all." 
 
 The Friar turned in the door; " Adieu, my Lord," he 
 said, making a slight obeisance, "so far as is consonant 
 with my sense of right I will bear them all in mind, and 
 return my answer ere the falling of Christmas Eve. Adieu, 
 my Lord."
 
 28 STUBS OF TIME. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 " When Christmastide comes in like a bride, 
 With holly and ivy clad, 
 
 Twelve days in the year, much mirth and good cheer 
 In every household is had." 
 
 The Baron de Burleyville was a stern man, brusque, 
 bluff, short of word and quick of deed a man not to be 
 trifled with ; a terror to his enemies, and a tower of strength 
 and joy to his friends. 
 
 War was his recreation : his playthings the engines of war. 
 He wore armor most of the time ; and never a night did his 
 great oaken bed, or table dormant, as 'twas called, know 
 his weight, but it also knew the heaviness of his great two- 
 handed sword. He slept with it in his arms, his cheek and 
 lips pressed against the silver, gold, and steel of its cruci- 
 form hilt. "It is my wife now," he would say, " my 
 love, since Arietta died." 
 
 And the Lady Arietta had been dead many a year 
 nearly eighteen ever since the birth of fair-haired little 
 Brilliana, the first and only child of the marriage. The 
 Baron had seen her buried in the God's acre of the small 
 ivy-clad chapel next to Lanfranc's Lazar House. He held 
 the puling girl-baby in his arms the while, and when the 
 rites were over he wheeled around, one hand holding his 
 child, -the other carrying his sword. He spoke not a word, 
 shed not a tear. With bowed head he marched back 
 toward his castle, followed by the silent stream of his
 
 THE SEAL OF DE BURLEYVILLE. 29 
 
 awe-stricken tenants and servitors. He paused a moment 
 at the Black Prince's well for a drink of water, thence 
 crossed over to the Priory, where after kneeling before the 
 altar for a moment in prayer, he arose, kissed St. Thomas's 
 shoe, and continued his homeward way. 
 
 Arrived at the castle, the infant was given into the charge 
 of Critch, a young wife of the fief. " See to it," said the 
 Baron, " that she be fed and in good fettle for the seal and 
 baptism to-morrow. I will take the sword to Canterbury 
 and have it consecrated and dipped in holy water, as is 
 customary ere the christening." 
 
 Ah, could that sword speak, what tales might it not tell ! 
 Could it but write its autobiography, what a ring of steel on 
 steel there would be in the narrative ! what clash and 
 clamor, what cries of men and dash of horse, mingling with 
 the blare of trumpet, hiss of arrows, twang of crossbows, 
 and sibilant shriek of sling stones ! Softer notes, too, there 
 would be in the history the sighs of lovelorn maidens, 
 and the low, impassioned vows of strong warriors, made 
 gentle as doves through the potent spells of that small wizard 
 and boy-god ; passionate strain of amorous songs, wail of 
 archlute, trill of hautboy, and quavering tones of harmon- 
 iphon ; whispered love-words, tender as the sough of reeds 
 in the zephyr. Yes, it would be a story to make the heart 
 beat quick with every passion known to man. 
 
 For this sword had long been an heirloom in an ancient 
 family whose archives bore testimony of many deeds of love 
 and valor. Tradition (which no one dared contradict), 
 said it was brought over from Normandy by the Baron's 
 forbears, and that it had also been taken on the crusades
 
 30 STUBS OF TIME. 
 
 by some dauntless champion of the blood ; that the great 
 first Richard had wielded it before the walls of Jerusalem 
 and smote many a Saracen athwart the midriff to their great 
 discomfort. 
 
 Be that as it may. The verification of such questions 
 we will leave to clerks and learned pundits. The fact is 
 that for many generations the sword had been a thing of 
 sacred and mystic import in the family of de Burleyville. 
 At the end of its handle was a small knob or projection of 
 steel. Cut in alto-relievo on the apex of this knob, were 
 certain characters and figures, discernible among which 
 were a wreath and fylfot. Gossip had it that the legend- 
 ary letters constituted a motto, the terms of which were 
 never imparted to any save members of the Burleyville 
 house. So much for conjecture. It was a matter of com- 
 mon knowledge to all of Kent that for ages it had been the 
 immutable law and custom to brand each member of the 
 house with the device on the sword. When a child was 
 born this ceremony was performed immediately before the 
 christening ; and if marriage brought some one into the 
 fold, scarcely were the nuptial rites over before the seal 
 must be put upon the newcomer, be he male or female. 
 
 The burning of this seal on the left shoulder made one a 
 Burleyville in all faith and blood forever; and all the 
 rights, privileges, titles, and immunities of such an estate 
 became one's for all time. Henceforward he became as one 
 with all others who bore the seal. No matter how great the 
 provocation, never could he raise hand against them, never 
 break faith with them ; but was always bound by all the holy
 
 THE SEAL OF DE BURLEYVILLE. 31 
 
 honor of religion and knighthood to protect, aid, and cherish 
 them regardless of consequences to himself. 
 
 The sword was borne and kept with strictest care by the 
 senior representative of the line. He also usually placed 
 the brand upon the novitiates. Though any one (and only 
 they) who bore the brand could impart it. Should such an 
 one through mistake or accident place the emblem on shoul- 
 der of paynim, Ethiop, or bitterest enemy, yet would he be 
 bound by all the solemn obligations conditioned upon the 
 deed. The strange procedure had its origin in hoary antiq- 
 uity when men swore dark unbreakable oaths over the bones 
 of their fathers and the relics of the saints, and signed them 
 with their blood. To violate such a compact in letter or 
 spirit was eternal dishonor. In the grim earnestness of the 
 times, these bonds held their affiants with all the force of 
 superstition and a high, but misguided, sense of honor. 
 
 So was it that the sword and seal of de Burleyville stood 
 for many arcana ; but perhaps the strangest of them all was 
 the bitter feud and implacable enmity toward the House of 
 Guilforth. 
 
 The Baron de Burleyville and the Marquis Guilforth were 
 near neighbors, but hereditary enemies. For many genera- 
 tions a deadly feud had existed between their respective fam- 
 ilies. Living in their castellated strongholds they had long 
 carried on unrelenting warfare against each other, character- 
 ized by deeds of rapine, bloodshed and violence whenever 
 opportunity presented itself. This hostility was shared by 
 every one of their retainers and liegemen down to the hum- 
 blest villein in his wattled hut. Though honorable knights 
 in all things else, in regard to this rankling animosity they
 
 32 STUBS OF TIME. 
 
 would go to any extreme to do an injury to one another. 
 Treachery, ambush, low cunning snares all were in- 
 voked and countenanced. 
 
 As an excuse for this insidious stab-in-the-back sort of 
 guerrilla warfare, which appeared so strange between honor- 
 able knights of the realm and Tertiaries of Holy Church, it 
 was reputed that the feud had risen in Normandy long ere 
 the Conqueror came over, and on Senlac field, made him- 
 self master of Anglia. When de Burleyville and Guilforth 
 (so ran the tale) had been rival claimants for some advow- 
 son or preferment, and a cowardly misrepresentative of one 
 of the houses (no one now knew which) had been guilty of 
 some dastardly breach of trust and knighthood in taking an 
 unfair advantage. So was the feud started, and it had 
 subsequently been imbibed with all its rancor by every 
 succeeding root, branch, and bud of the two family trees. 
 The passage of time but served to infiltrate it more 
 thoroughly into the blood, until, in later generations, 
 mutual hate between the houses became second nature. 
 
 Because of the grim nature of that member of the 
 de Burleyville line with which we have to do, perhaps in 
 him the terrible strength of the hereditary hate had reached 
 its fullest comsummation. While the Black Prince lived the 
 Baron had kept active in the field, serving under his stand- 
 ard ; and many a fair acre of France had tasted of blood 
 drawn forth by the lethal stroke of the sword of de Burley- 
 ville. But now, the Baron, like many others of his class, 
 chafed under the peace policy of King Richard. Hence, it 
 was natural that in his idle hours he should turn to the 
 brabble with Guilforth for amusement, and find time to fan
 
 THE SEAL OF DE BURLEYVILLE. 33 
 
 the flame of embroilment till it blazed with a white heat in 
 his heart. 
 
 In the meantime, however, Christmas was come to- 
 morrow was St. Thomas' Day and animosity must be 
 buried for the twelve days at least. Let the contents of the 
 genial black-jacks, with their silver rims and leathern sides, 
 drown all thought of accursed Guilforth. Even the sacred 
 sword would be taken off and laid away in the oaken hutch 
 which stood in the Baron's chamber, and where he kept his 
 court dress of gold-braided and bejewelled pourpoints, 
 doublets, and hose. 
 
 The Baron called the Lady Brilliana to him: " Daugh- 
 ter," he said, as he sat before the fire in his huge arm 
 chair, and slowly stroked his bushy red beard, " ungird 
 my sword and lay it away in the accustomed place. Thou 
 knowest I like not for the hands of vassals to touch it lest 
 there be sore need thereof. The rising of to-morrow's sun 
 means the sunset for a time of all ill-will, black passions 
 and deeds of warfare. I have asked that good palmer, 
 Friar Snicke, to be mine Abbas Stultorum this year. As 
 thou knowest, he is a man of most jovial port, and is dowered 
 with much love of God, good cheer, and the ladies." 
 
 " A fitting man for the place, certes, my honored Sire; 
 and hath he agreed to sway the sceptre of gay disport for 
 us?" 
 
 " Not yet, my Heart ; but he doth weigh the matter in his 
 grave consideration. There were dubitations in his mind as 
 to whether the acceptance of so temporal a throne would 
 comport graciously with his professions." 
 
 " I judge 'tis the accusemeuts of the Lollards which doth 
 
 3
 
 34 STUBS OF TIME. 
 
 work in him, my Lord. That Wyclif hath opened the eyes 
 of England, and pricked many a calloused conscience." 
 
 "True, my Sweet, but I think no fillips of conscience 
 doth* perturb this Friar Snicke. He juggles with good 
 and bad deeds so skilfully that I doubt not he keeps the 
 sabaoth of Heaven and Hell a-guessing. Every earnest he 
 places with Old Scratch is offset by deeds of kindly benev- 
 olence." 
 
 " Then he hath no faith in the Pardoners? " 
 
 " Not he. He's Lollard to the extent that he holds only 
 penance and toward acts will expiate sin. Nor does he put 
 overmuch trust in relics, though he carries in his tippet 
 what he claims to be a toe-nail of St. Gertrude and a scale 
 of a fish caught by St. Peter. He purchased these in Rome, 
 where he went on a pilgrimage in his early youth when the 
 Black Death was making a charnel house of England. The 
 nail, he says, cost him twelve marks, and the fish-scale six 
 nobles." 
 
 " A goodly price; and as they came dear, so I venture 
 their virtues are great." 
 
 " 'Tis thought so, my sweet wench, yet owing to a con- 
 fusion of the identity of the two it is difficult to pass upon 
 and gage their benign properties. The truth is that neither 
 the worthy Friar nor any other man can say with any degree 
 of certainty which is the sainted toe-nail and which is the 
 sacred fish-scale." 
 
 " But do not the respective charms and protections which 
 are ascribed to them proclaim which is one and which is 
 t'other, my noble Sire?" 
 
 " Not easily, my child. Relics of St. Gertrude are sup-
 
 THE SEAL OP DE BURLE YVILLE . 35 
 
 posed to guard against rats and fleas, while those of St. 
 Peter protect from lightning, distempers of the stomach, 
 and highwaymen. Now the Friar will never permit these 
 holy treasures to leave his keeping that others may have 
 opportunity to test their powers ; and as he, himself, is not 
 a householder, he hath but little trouble with rats and fleas : 
 his frock is safeguard against highwaymen : lightning 
 bothers him no more than it does most men ; and as for 
 belly ailments he hath the bowels of an estrich, which, I 
 warrant, serve him to more purpose than would all the 
 relics in Christendom." 
 
 As the Baron ceased speaking the clear tuneful notes of 
 a trumpet sounded without the castle gates. There was also 
 the clatter of hoofs, the barking of dogs, and the sound of 
 men's voices, noisy and hilarious. 
 
 It was Courtenay, Archbishop of Canterbury, and his 
 gay hunting party. With him were the Abbot of Ayles- 
 ford, the fat Prior of St. Martins, and a goodly crowd of 
 reeves, bailiffs, esquires, and yeoman archers from neigh- 
 boring estates. 
 
 " Greeting to thee, my Lord de Burleyville, and may all 
 the blessings of this favored time be with thee," said the 
 debonair Courtenay, as the Baron came forth to bid them 
 welcome. Then added, " We come to ask that thou join 
 us in a chase of the red deer. It hath been brought to our 
 ears that the dingle back of Herne Hill doth abound with 
 them. But a few days since my manciple did with his bow 
 and arrows kill a fallow pricket there, though he was out 
 with no intent to hunt. Knowing thy fondness for the
 
 36 STUBS OF TIME. 
 
 chase we could not pass thy gates without asking thee to 
 give us the grace of thy worthy companionship." 
 
 "By my troth! and that I will, my good Lord Arch- 
 bishop. It were well that a haunch of venison be eaten to- 
 morrow in honor of St. Thomas. Yet I hope that in fol- 
 lowing thee we shall not be given such an ensample as that 
 set by the bold Edmund, a predecessor of thine in the 
 Holy See, who was such a famous poacher that he had the 
 whole countryside a-howling with his ravishments." 
 
 " Nay, nay, my Lord, be not fearful as to that ; we have 
 our charters giving us the rights of venery throughout 
 Kent. We have no design of taking e'en a titlark in 
 violation of another's rights." 
 
 The Baron replied, "It is well, your Holiness; " and 
 then he ordered his hostler to bring forth his horse, which 
 had been turned loose to nibble and exercise in a nearby 
 meadow. 
 
 While the groom went to catch and saddle the animal, the 
 hunters, at the behest of the Baron, dismounted and entered 
 the hall to quaff a jolly bumper or two. 
 
 In the party was a tall, lissome, dark-eyed, and silent 
 young esquire, who, while the others were gathered around 
 the table drinking ale and springing jests, with a pretense of 
 cold hands, quietly betook himself to the fire at the far end 
 of the hall, where in a chimney-seat the Lady Brilliana was 
 sewing a tapestry. 
 
 The young man had seen her at an upper window before 
 leaving his horse. He had noted, even at a distance, her 
 wondrous suit of hair, her beauty and grace of bearing. 
 And he had slyly stuck his spur in the off side of his horse
 
 THE SEAL OF DE BURLEYVILLE. 37 
 
 so that the mettlesome creature reared and plunged, and 
 thus attracted the eye of the maiden at the same time that a 
 skilful pressure of his rider's knee brought him nearer to 
 the window, where he suddenly became calm. 
 
 The girl had also noticed the gallant and noble appearance 
 of the handsome young esquire, as distinguishing him from 
 the others, even before the antics of his steed made him more 
 forcibly conspicuous. 
 
 When he had drawn rein under her window, as maidens 
 will, she could but let her eyes meet his ; and, perchance, 
 a mischievous little smile was suffered to flit about her lips, 
 or twinkle in her eyes. 
 
 So will the tell-tale eyes of young people give their hearts 
 away and betray their thoughts. And Cupid is born, and 
 battens in the sly glances of young eyes. 
 
 Upon getting "closer and seeing the maiden better, the 
 cavalier's heart had begun an unwonted thumping; for he 
 observed that the lady's beauty increased as the distance 
 between them diminished. Thereupon he had regarded her 
 with an eye so interested and intent, that she at length be- 
 came abashed and begruntled, and withdrew to one side 
 where he could not see her, but where, nevertheless, a 
 lucky chink in the casement gave her a view of him. Tak- 
 ing thus unfair advantage, she had seen the woebegone look 
 which overspread his face as he lost sight of her, and also, 
 the sigh when he turned his horse's head, rode from beneath 
 the window, and dismounted with the other members of his 
 party. 
 
 When she knew what was going on, and that the hunting 
 party would come into her father's hall and take brief
 
 38 STUBS OF TIME. 
 
 refreshment, the Lady Brilliana hastily bethought herself of 
 her unfinished piece of tapestry and of how admirable a 
 place the chimney-seat was in which to settle herself and 
 ply her needles and bodkins. 
 
 And there was she by the time the party had all gotten 
 in just as though she had been there all the forenoon, 
 diligently working on the brassard of Sir Giles de Laval, a 
 scene from whose bloody life she was depicting in the em- 
 broidery; and there the keen sight of the young esquire 
 spied her as he passed into the room ; and, as we have seen, 
 it was not long before a convenient numbness of fingers 
 brought him to the fire and near her. 
 
 He had a good view of her as he stood there, shifting his 
 weight from one foot to the other, though the draperies 
 which hung about the fireplace and chimney-seat to keep out 
 the draughts concealed her from the rest of the company. 
 
 Well she saw him too to which fact the false stitches 
 she made in Sir Giles's brassard will testify to this day. 
 Apparently, however, she had no thought beyond the next 
 movement of her needle, so intent upon her work she ap- 
 peared. 
 
 Who knows whether it was purposely that she dropped her 
 bodkin so that it rolled to the feet of the youth ? It might 
 have been the prank of wayward Fate, who loves to play 
 bandy ball with human destinies. Or it may have been a 
 trick of Dan Cupid, who brought it about in furtherance of 
 some of his cunning plots. No one will ever know. But the 
 bodkin did so fall, and the chivalrous esquire heard its jingle, 
 though seeing it not, and at once went down on his knees to 
 search for it.
 
 THE SEAL OF DE BURLEYVILLE. 39 
 
 " It is behither thee," said the maiden, as he awkardly 
 grovelled around, his thoughts so far from the bodkin that 
 scarce could he have found it had it been thrust through his 
 nose. 
 
 " Ay," he said, finding it at last when she pointed it out 
 to him, "and I pray thee, pardon the sloth of one who is 
 but little accustomed to seek and handle the implements of 
 women." 
 
 The maiden laughed a low, merry little laugh it was, 
 sounding like the sweet purling of a pebbly brook. 
 
 "And now," continued the youth going down on his 
 knees before her, and holding tight to the bodkin " what 
 reward wilt thou bestow upon the knight who has recovered 
 thy treasure?" 
 
 "And what would he have, Sir?" she questioned, an 
 expression of sly mischief and blushes dashing across her 
 face. 
 
 " I would have, sweet Lady I would have leave to kiss 
 the fair hand into which I deliver the prize." 
 
 "Nay, nay, thy guerdon is denied. It cannot be: 
 'twere not meet." 
 
 " Then will I hold that I have recovered." 
 
 " But my tapestry, Sir, it must be done. The Gry- 
 phon hath no tail, and Sir Giles must not be left without his 
 dexter brassard. 'Tis uuknightly." 
 
 " Better that, fair Lady, than an honest man go unre- 
 warded for honest services, especially when the payment of 
 his wage is but an easy thing which will not impoverish the 
 giver but will make rich and happy the recipient." 
 
 " Thou ratest thy charge at a false and too high a value,
 
 40 STUBS OF TIME. 
 
 Sir. I hold it not extortionate, but unseemly : I never saw 
 thee before ; I know neither thy name nor breeding." 
 
 " Noble are my name and birth, Lady. Were it other- 
 wise I durst not ask the boon. Howsoever, it were better 
 that I do not discover them to you." 
 
 " But my bodkin, Sir! I must have my bodkin," she 
 insisted, with a smack of petulance, femininely flitting back 
 to the main issue. 
 
 With humble firmness he told her that she should have it 
 upon yielding to his request. 
 
 " Then take it! " she fired, " I must have my bod- 
 kin Sir Giles's brassard " 
 
 " Ho-ho, ho-ho, what do I see! a youth and maid 
 a-loviug," interrupted a strident voice close upon them. 
 
 The young man dropped the small white hand he was 
 holding to his lips, and turned to face the fat Prior of St. 
 Martins, who came staggering upon them. 
 
 The rest of the hunters had returned to their horses and 
 ridden away. The Prior was left behind, as the ale which 
 he drank in the hall, added to that which he had been 
 drinking all morning from his private flagon, had made 
 him too unsteady to mount his horse in safety. Being 
 somewhat sleepy, he had, therefore, readily consented to 
 take the advisement of the Archbishop, and abide at the 
 castle until his head was cleared and his limbs more willing 
 to obey his will. 
 
 " Pardonnez-moi," laughed the Prior, his huge bulk 
 shaking convulsively with maudlin mirth " I knew not I 
 was breaking into a lovers' bower. The fire in the middle 
 of the hall grows low, and I bethought me to seek the
 
 THE SEAL OF DE BURLEYVILLE. 41 
 
 chimney-bench, where I might find more warmth and keep 
 company with sweet Morpheus for a time. But I see that 
 Venus doth occupy the chimney-seat. She were a better 
 companion than my Morpheus, by my faith, ha-ha! " 
 
 He threw himself down by the Lady Brilliana ; whereupon 
 she recoiled from him as though he were a viper. 
 
 " Pardieu! Mirabile dictu!" continued the Prior, 
 pointing at the youth, "do my eyes deceive me? Is 
 this not young Aylwin Guilforth? Since when was the 
 cuckoo welcomed to the robin's nest? May I ask what 
 benignant rain hath quenched the fierce fires of hate that 
 whilom raged betwixt the houses of de Burleyville and 
 Guilforth, that the tender scions of the two names do ndw 
 woo and coo at each other as very doves ? 'Tis news in- 
 deed. How and by whom was it brought about? Me- 
 thought the ancient feud had so wrapped its deadly 
 tentacles around the rival hearts that no power of heaven or 
 earth could tear loose its stiffened coils." 
 
 " It hath not been brought about, your Grace," replied 
 Aylwin, the sokr child and son of the Marquis Guilforth, 
 flashing red as he spoke. " It hath not been brought 
 about what you behold hath come about by strange 
 chances. The maiden knows me not. Nor did her father. 
 This hunting hood concealed in part my features from him 
 my features which I doubt he would have known without it, 
 so seldom hath he seen me, and so rapidly doth a young 
 man grow and change." 
 
 " And thou madest bold to enter the lion's den? " 
 
 " Yea. I had to, or leave the party. I was loath to give 
 up the hunt, and not unwilling to be adventuresome. So I
 
 42 STUBS OF TIME. 
 
 came. Few of them knew me save the Archbishop ; and he 
 I bound to secrecy." 
 
 "So thou entered thy enemy's hall and took bread and 
 wine at his board? " 
 
 " Not so, I took none of it; I quit the gathering and 
 came hither." 
 
 " To make sly love to this tender, innocent young dove?" 
 
 "Nay, nay, it all befell by the natural consequence of 
 mere accident." 
 
 " And the maiden knew thee not? " 
 
 " Not till thou didst divulge the secret." 
 
 The Prior sidled nearer to Brilliana, and took her hand. 
 
 "Let the damsel speak for herself : speaketh he the truth, 
 my pretty? " 
 
 "So far as I know, your Grace? " 
 
 The Prior continued : 
 
 " And this little hand so soft and fair, dost thou not 
 know that thy father would smite it from its arm did he 
 know that the lips of a Guilforth had touched it? " 
 
 The girl made no reply ; but the fast beating of her heart 
 did not suffice to keep the rose tints in her cheeks. Her 
 big eyes shot timorous glances about her, as though she 
 contemplated flight. The young esquire stood by nervously 
 wiggling his foot and biting his lip. 
 
 "Take my advice, my youth," the Prior said to him, 
 " and get thee hence speedily. If thy identity be brought 
 by any mischance to the Baron's men-at-arms thy life were 
 not worth a farthing. Also, since knowing thee, this child 
 is much affrighted." 
 
 " I would not have it so ; I will haste away," Aylwin
 
 THE SEAL OF DE BURLEYVILLE. 43 
 
 said. " Farewell, sweet maid, farewell, good Prior. When 
 a lion has lost his sheep's skin he must leave the company 
 of the lambs." 
 
 As he left young Guilforth took a last look at Brilliana ; 
 but she turned her head and ignored him. Then she sat 
 still and gazed into the fire, and Aylwin went out, mounted 
 his horse, and galloped away. 
 
 A hoarse snort at her side roused the Lady Brilliana from 
 her reverie. Looking around she saw that the Prior had 
 fallen asleep, with his head thrown back against the stone 
 chimney facing, and his mouth wide open. Whereupon she 
 shook the sleeper till he started up with some semblance of 
 consciousness. 
 
 "Good Father," she said, still shaking him, " promise 
 me to say nothing to my sire of how thou didst find a Guil- 
 forth under his roof. It would enrage him so that I know 
 not what would come of it. Dost hear? Dost promise ?" 
 
 "Ay, ay, I hear I promise," grumbled the sleepy Prior. 
 
 ' And thou understandeth me, and wilt remember? " 
 shaking him again and harder. 
 
 The Prior grew peevish: " Yea, by Heaven! yea, girl," 
 he snapped ; " but get thee away and disturb me no more, 
 or by the hearts of the Nine Worthies I will let it out though 
 it be with my last breath."
 
 44 STUBS OF TIME. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 f( A Country Lasse, browne as a berry, 
 Blith of blee, in heart as merry, 
 Cheeks well fed, and sides well larded, 
 Every bone with fat flesh guarded, 
 Meeting merry Kemp by chaunce, 
 Was Marrian in his Morrice daunce. 
 Her stump legs with bels were garnisht; 
 Her browne browes with sweating varnisht: 
 Her browne hips, when she was lag 
 To win her ground, went swig a swag; 
 Which to see all that came after 
 Were replete with mirthf ull laughter. 
 Yet she thumpt it on her way 
 With a sportly hey de gay : 
 At a mile her daunce she ended, 
 Kindly paid and well commended." 
 
 Kemp's Nine Days Wonder. 
 
 So it fell that the following day was that of St. Thomas, 
 being in the latter part of the reign of the good yet 
 weak Second Richard. 
 
 And rosy and rimy did it dawn, its first peep of light 
 awakening to querulous activity the drowsy jackdaws that 
 roosted in the great yews just outside of the de Burleyville 
 garden croft. The lazy sun seemed to be yawning and 
 stretching himself as he slowly rose from his bed behind the 
 distant Kentish hills, and shot a few golden-red, weak rays, 
 blinking as a new-born babe, upon the frosty top of the old 
 Dane John Hill, which stands sentinel-like in the field near
 
 THE SEAL OF DE BURLEYVILLE. 45 
 
 Canterbury. Unaffected by the slight warmth, the frost 
 sparkled and glimmered as powdered crystal. 
 
 In a little while the sun grew more energetic, and climbed 
 higher. A great beam of light was thrown dancing over 
 the topmost twigs of the big oaks in the Cathedral cloister. 
 There it glistened for a brief space, and then hastened to a 
 more glorious destiny. It shimmered over the trees and 
 ricochetted to the resplendent windows of the Cathedral, 
 illuminating them with a responsive blaze of beauty. 
 
 Then the bells pealed forth the great mellow Cathedral 
 bells summoning the monks to matins and prime. 
 Strongly, clearly, the notes went out, rolling rhythmically 
 through the cold air. Sweetly, softly, they returned from 
 the hills in echoes tender and quavering. 
 
 The monks came from their dormitories in double file a 
 long, silent, somber line, which enters the church at the south 
 door, passes up the nave, and, reaching the choir, spreads 
 itself out fan-shape. The mass for St. Thomas is held, a 
 long, long service with much singing and prayer. During 
 the singing four monks are appointed by the abbot to pump 
 the organ. It is a post much coveted on winter mornings, 
 as it is better to exercise than to sing when the nipping 
 morning air, innocent of all heat, pierces one's worsted 
 frock. 
 
 A squat, pursy figure had emerged from the lodge just out 
 of the priory gate as the joyous pean of the bells died away 
 in a low concent amid the Southdown hills. The lodge was 
 that which had been built for the accommodation of pilgrims, 
 belated wayfarers, and mendicants, and its late aforemen- 
 tioned occupant was Friar Snicke.
 
 46 STUBS OF TIME. 
 
 Having passed the night beneath the hospitable little 
 roof, the Friar now came forth to perform his morning 
 devotions in the Chapel of the Martyrdom at the shrine of 
 a Becket. 
 
 His face, beaming and rubicund, spoke peace and good 
 will to all the world, after an undisturbed night's rest on 
 the fresh, clean straw and rushes that had constituted his 
 comfortable and sweet-scented bed. He was ever a man of 
 most adaptable nature. A quick succession of extremes 
 from comfort to discomfort never worried him in the least. 
 From one atmosphere of surroundings he could pass to 
 another totally different, with perfect adjustment of spirit, 
 conduct and equipoise. From a wedding to a funeral he 
 would go, and so demean himself that he was a joyous and 
 most welcome guest at one, and a solace and help at the 
 other. Wherever he happened to be he was usually exactly 
 what the time and occasion called for. Throughout Kent 
 he was a well-known personality. The bounds of the 
 ordinary limitour were not for him ; he went and came 
 when and where he pleased ; and no one questioned his 
 right. Whether it was Friar Snicke in summer-time, with 
 the beads of perspiration oozing from the creases in his fat 
 round face and standing like diamonds on his shiny 
 tonsured pate ; or Friar Snicke in winter, with his globular 
 cheeks red with cold, and his snub nose redder still ; and 
 his puggy, stocky form enveloped in his long gown of 
 hand-woven woollens he was always welcomed by prince 
 or pauper. 
 
 Faults had the Friar as every other man, but they 
 were of the human, forgivable kind. He loved his cup
 
 THE SEAL OF DE BURLEYVILLE. 47 
 
 and a good dinner ; and it was whispered that he had an 
 eye for fair damsels and buxom dames, and that he had 
 even been known to look askance at shapely bosoms and 
 well-turned ankles. Also, that despite his vocation, he was 
 not averse to exercising the suffrages of the mistletoe when 
 opportunity came his way. 
 
 Yet what difference made it to those who knew him? 
 Withal, he was a kindly man, dispensing to the needy what 
 surplus alms he took, and ever ready to lend heart and 
 hand in the doing of a good deed. Let the captious ones 
 who chided him be taken amuck with some dire distemper, 
 and swift was the messenger which these same chafers sent 
 for Friar Snicke. At the bedside of lord or serf he was 
 ever ready with his soul-simples of absolution and prayer, 
 cheery words of faith and hope. It was said that he could 
 assoil with such benign influence and power, that under the 
 bright spell of his assurance, blackest villains would some- 
 times smile on their deathbed, being convinced of salvation. 
 
 A tale ran that on a certain occasion the Friar was called 
 to administer to the perturbed mind of the sick wife of a 
 miller. The worthy woman had been sorely taken with 
 cramps after an unstinted repast of garlics and buttermilk. 
 If was Friday, the thirteenth of the month, following a 
 stormy night in which a lone hound had howled lugubri- 
 ously around her house. So the good dame very naturally 
 thought that her end was near and certain. 
 
 " I once kissed a man other than my husband," she 
 moaned to the Friar, as he sat by holding her hand sooth- 
 ingly, and barkened to the confessions.
 
 48 STUBS OF TIME. 
 
 "Dreadful! dreadful! " murmured the Friar, his sym- 
 pathetic eyes resting on the homely features of the sufferer. 
 
 " It was years ago," she continued. 
 
 " Yes, yes, go on mercy is plenteous. There is hope." 
 
 " And the man I bussed was " 
 
 " Who? " asked the Friar, a spasm of pain having cut 
 short the patient's sentence. 
 
 " You you, good Father." 
 
 " Alack ! it had slipped my mind. True, true 'twas in 
 the days of my wayward youth when I was weak in prin- 
 ciple and strong of stomach." 
 
 ' ' And canst thou give me shrift for it ? " 
 
 ' ' In very surety : I forgive thee. But never do it again. ' ' 
 
 Having passed through the eastern gate, the Friar entered 
 the nave or aula, thence crossing to the Chapel of the Mar- 
 tyrdom, he bent his knees to the figures representing virtue 
 and vice in the mosaic pavement, and there offered up a 
 brief prayer before the resplendent shrine of a Becket. Leav- 
 ing the northwest transept, he entered the choir, and joined 
 the crowd of monks, taking part with them in their services 
 and orisons. 
 
 Sweet was the singing of the Gloria in Excelsis on that 
 winter's morning which ushered in a Christmas season of 
 the time long agone. Clear and strong the voices of the 
 monks rose and fell beneath the vaulted and fretted dome of 
 the apse. Back from the crypts and transepts surged the 
 full, rich notes, as though reluctant to leave the vast and 
 stately church. Returning, they were tenderer and softer, 
 their wanderings through the storied aisles and among the 
 legended pillars having lent them, apparently, finer sym- 
 pathies and a more delicate assertiveuess.
 
 THE SEAL OF DE BURLE YVILLE . 49 
 
 Echoes and old memories, like the Prodigal Son, come 
 back to us subdued, tenderer, and sweetened. Though 
 their initiative be harsh and trying, yet may they run the 
 gauntlet of circumstance through the circuits of time, and 
 return to us some day in the guise of regenerate and wel- 
 come guests. 
 
 In Trinity Chapel the spurred, colored, and armored 
 figure of the Black Prince reposed on its stone mausoleum 
 and gazed heavenward with its immutable expression of 
 masterfulness. It was no mean artist who had wrought 
 the effigy. Perhaps it is the atmosphere, the association of 
 ideas in the beholder, which lends the figure so much 
 expression, so much meaning. Antiquity, tradition, 
 romance, history and war hover about the tomb in almost 
 palpable forms. There is always a weird and sentimental 
 sort of interest enlinked with the graves of the historical 
 dead. In the image of the Black Prince the strange skill 
 of the sculptor had more than served to heighten this 
 interest. In some indefinable way he had put into the face 
 all the solemn and austere majesty of death, and yet at the 
 same time it was alive with symbolism. The countenance, 
 stern, calm, and impassive, appeared to be that of one 
 who, having removed to some transcendent plane of exist- 
 ence, could now regard temporal affairs without concern, 
 while he brooded forever on the magnitudes of eternity. 
 
 From the beam across the pulpitum the two cherubim 
 and the images of St. Mary and St. John looked down. 
 Their attitude was that of attention, as though they harked 
 to the rich melody. While the misereres of the choir cornice 
 
 4
 
 50 STUBS OF TIME. 
 
 and fresco, stony and stolid, gloated over all with their faces 
 of immitigable woe. 
 
 Having performed what he deemed a sufficiency of devo- 
 tion, the Friar emerged from the Cathedral at the great door 
 in the southwest transept. Just beyond the threshold he 
 encountered Bors, the Cathedral watchman, who had de- 
 scended by the spiral stair from the tower of St. Anselm, 
 and was now on his way to breakfast. In one hand he held 
 a lantern, and in the other a leash attached to the two great 
 villainous-looking ban dogs, who with their master shared the 
 task of guarding the sacred relics, treasures and remains of 
 the Cathedral. 
 
 " Greeting to thee, Bors," quoth the Friar, recovering 
 from the start which the sudden appearance of the evil 
 looking beasts had induced. " I wot thou hast slept at 
 thy post so late thou comest forth to do thy service to St. 
 Thomas and crave his blessing on thy tardy head. By the 
 holy St. Francis of Assisi, what beasts ! Did not their wag- 
 ging tails belie their savage visages, I might have sought 
 such flight as increasing years and short fat legs admit of. 
 All is well, I hope?" 
 
 " Yea, Father, from the pit under the sacristy to the pin- 
 nacle of the great tower nothing is perturbed." 
 
 " St. Bartholomew's arm, St. Swinthin's and St. Furseus's 
 heads, and the most sacred remains of the Saints Dunstan 
 and Augustine lie unmolested, eh? " 
 
 " Certes, they so are by God's grace, good Friar." 
 
 " 'Tis well. But the carbuncle of the generous Seventh 
 Louis thou hast not yet spoken of, nor needest thou ; for I 
 myself did see it but now blazing like a comet in Becket's
 
 THE SEAL OF DE BURLEYVILLE. 51 
 
 shrine. I tell thee news : for aught thy laggard self know- 
 est, it may this moment be gracing the chatelaine of some 
 Bobbin's Bess, or lie imbedded in the foulest muck of the 
 Ouse. A pretty man to leave thy duty to dogs while thou 
 courtest slumber." 
 
 " Nay, nay, Father Snicke, thou dost misjudge me, I 
 slept not till the third crowing of the cock, by which time the 
 coming day was faintly lurid over the eastern hills." 
 
 The sleepy Bors yawned, and raising the lantern, blew out 
 its still burning taper. Rubbing his red eyes with a big 
 rough finger, he passed on, followed by his dogs. 
 
 "A dull, heavy fellow," thought the Friar, casting a 
 glance at the retreating figure of the guard, " yet, I war- 
 rant, a dangerous one if aroused." Then drawing his hood 
 closer about his ears, he set off down the road toward the 
 castle of de Burleyville. 
 
 Arriving at the castle the Friar greeted the warder at the 
 gate, and was suffered to pass on into the courtyard with- 
 out interference or question. He proceeded as one having 
 little doubt of his destination, and another moment found 
 him rapping softly at a little door just within the postern 
 gate. 
 
 With much clutter of bolts and chains the door opened, 
 and Mother Critch advanced her portly person to the thres- 
 hold, where she took her stand, with arms akimbo, com- 
 pletely blocking all passage in or out, while she shot her 
 eyes over the Friar's head, and appeared not to see him at 
 all, but gazed serenely into the morning sky. 
 
 " May St. Thomas snatch the horn of plenty from the 
 hand of Ceres and pour its bounteous contents on thy
 
 52 STUBS OF TIME. 
 
 comely head, my good woman," said the Friar, as he 
 folded his chubby hands across his umbilicus, and bowed 
 profoundly. 
 
 There was no response. 
 
 " Greeting, greeting, most gracious nymph of savory 
 pots and saucepans ; may the Parcae spin thy life-thread 
 all of gold ; may Venus envy thy beauty, and Pallas thy 
 wisdom. I wish thee all the joys which the season can 
 bestow : 
 
 1 This month drink you no wine commixt with dregs ; 
 Eat capons and fat hens with dumpling legs.' " 
 
 The Friar raised his folded hands to his chest ; he tilted his 
 head to one side, squinted his eyes, and looked up at the 
 dame with a wanton smile and smirk. 
 
 Still she ignored him, while with supreme complacence 
 she watched the movements of a raven perched on a hop- 
 pole far out on the heath. The appetizing aroma of good 
 cookery was now wafted through the door in puffs of white 
 steam. The Friar sniffed it and began to prance with 
 impatience. 
 
 " Marry, good wench," he pleaded in an humbler tone, 
 " 'tis time thou didst come down from thy high horse, and 
 see a lowly man of God. The cold stings my face like 
 hornets, and, by the Sacgrael, I smell beef and baked 
 apples ! Alack ! Alack ! thy conduct but proves the old 
 adage, ' A cold heart in a comely form.' ' 
 
 Despite her efforts to restrain it, a smile now tugged at 
 the corners of the woman's mouth. She let her eyes fall till 
 they rested scornfully on the Friar.
 
 THE SEAL OF DE BURLEYVILLE. 53 
 
 ' ' I might have known 'twas thee thou wapper-eyed 
 jack-puddings. I thought the savor of my garlics and 
 collops would bring thee before long." 
 
 She turned on her heel and went back into the room. 
 The Friar followed her quickly, closing the door as he en- 
 tered . 
 
 "Ay, sweet wench, in seeking thy company I have the 
 sanction of both my stomach and my heart." He drew a 
 stool up before the fire and sprawled out comfortably, 
 loosened his hood and held the palms of his hands out toward 
 the blaze. "And my heart being full of thee, I would have 
 thee likewise fill my stomach." 
 
 "A man of your calling should have no appetite: you 
 should crave only the food of the spirit, especially on a 
 saint's day. Yet in mercy's sake I will give you for break- 
 fast some hot water and a crust of bread." 
 
 "And why so chary of aliment, good dame? Thinkest 
 thou 'tis Lenten time? Or have the king's purveyors been 
 hitherward? By faith! I'm no Cistercian white monk or 
 criminous clerk who can live on liturgies: I'm a frater 
 minor, a true Franciscan. Tlr^self as fat as a Michaelmas 
 goose hast thou no sympathy for me, a scrawny man. 
 Holiness does wizen a man and make him as thin as the sigh 
 of a lovelorn maiden. 
 
 "Now, gentle Mother Critch, my vocation forbids me 
 flattery, yet it tells me speak from the heart, neither throttle 
 truth, nor send it forth in suave raiment of hypocrisy and 
 dissimulation. Ergo, sweet lady, shall I tell thee a pointed 
 fact?" 
 
 " Speak, man, I care not whether thy facts be as pointed
 
 54 STUBS OF TIME. 
 
 as thy appetite or as dull as thy wit. These men of God 
 have their hearts in their belly, and would dine with Satan 
 an he kept a good table." 
 
 The latter observation was volunteered as a sort of par- 
 enthetical soliloquy. There was a short pause, and then 
 with a lattan dish of cakes in her hand, she stopped before 
 him and added condemnatorily : ' ' Didst thou- but wax as 
 eloquent for the Lord as thou dost for thy belly the devil 
 would soon leave England." 
 
 " Ay, and go to France where he belongs, and be a pigmy 
 among a nation of greater devils than himself. It were a 
 sorry day for Satan ; and I have more pity for him than to 
 do't. For pity, good mother, is the measure of a man's 
 spiritual height and stature. How many cubits of pity 
 doth he stand in soul? How many pottles of pity doth his 
 heart contain. That is the way I would test a person's 
 godliness. The mean-spirited man pitieth nothing ; but the 
 man who, like myself, hath climbed to the Pelion of right- 
 eousness pitieth even the devil. So may you know me a 
 holy man by my lofty essence of all-embracing compassion. 
 I pity myself that thou givest me no ale or other staunch 
 purveyance. I pity thee because thou knowest not how 
 well it were for thy salvation if thou gavest me such. Even 
 the ale I pity; for pity, 'tis said, is chief ingredient of love. 
 And then to think, poor ale ! so cold and lonely in its 
 rotund bowl its mission unfulfilled, fast locked in a 
 dim cupboard which smells of curds and cheese. Know, 
 O beautiful but heartless woman, that ale hath a better 
 purpose and grander destiny ; and that good things were
 
 THE SEAL OF DE BURLEYVILLE. 55 
 
 given man and womankind for use according to that inten- 
 tion for which they were created. 
 
 " And what more glorious mission than to course 
 through the brain of a godly man so that the cold and 
 torpid hymns and preachments that lie embedded in its 
 cells are warmed and stimulated into vocal activity. Then 
 will the world be benefited, when through the mild and 
 beneficent inspiration I am led to preach and prophesy 
 and exude songs of praise, corrective exprobrations and 
 sage moralities." 
 
 Mother Critch came now and placed a large tray of 
 steaming dishes across his knees. " Here, here, man," she 
 chided, " now stuff thy mouth till thy tongue can wag no 
 longer. Thy talk is as confused as a Lincolnshire bull- 
 running. Wilt thou promise to be silent if I give thee thy 
 fill?" 
 
 " Chaste siren of the scullery, I would promise thee any- 
 thing. Take this as an earnest of my taciturnity." 
 
 He took a small sprig of rosemary from his tippet and 
 handed her. Then smiling radiantly, he attacked his 
 victuals. 
 
 Through the windows of the Lady Brilliana's room in the 
 high eastern tower the sun was now shooting a bar of red 
 shimmering gold. It falls first upon the carved head of 
 the bed, and then creeps slowly down till it shines on the 
 hair of the sleeping maiden. Lingeringly and lovingly it 
 plays on the bright tresses, as though the very fingers of 
 the sun god toyed with the silken wisps and strans. All 
 tousled in sleep, the locks stream about the pillow and 
 encircle the face of the sleeper in an aureole glorious and
 
 56 STUBS OF TIME. 
 
 scintillant. Down, down creeps the light till it is on the 
 lovely upturned face, all a-flush with the roses of healthy 
 slumber. It reaches the mouth the vermeil delectable 
 pout of her semi-parted lips. There it appears to rest for a 
 time as though sentient of its good fortune. A lead in the 
 window now parted the beam, and one half of it fell upon 
 her eye the pink-white lid with its long very long 
 fringe of jet. 
 
 The sleeper moved and stirred uneasily. She threw the 
 silken coverlet with its heavy embroidery of stiff -figured 
 knights and ladies a little lower. She moved again ; her 
 eyes opened blue and sparkling as dewy bluebells unfolding 
 in the morning sun ; and her arm bare and beauteous 
 emerged from under the covering. What an arm ! How 
 rounded and shapely ! How lily-white ! It flexed grace- 
 fully as a swan's neck and fell above the maiden's head. 
 
 The girl lay idly thus for some moments, and looked 
 dreamily out of the window. Then she arose and dressed. 
 No sooner had she completed her toilet than Mother Critch 
 came in, bringing her breakfast. Having greeted her 
 affectionately, that worthy woman told her of the early 
 advent of the Friar, and further detailed garrulously that 
 sundry sportive parties of guisars and mummers had already 
 come to the castle, singing their songs, making much revelry 
 and begging gifts and favors according to custom. 
 
 Brilliana walked to the window, and threw it open. 
 "Ay," she said, "I see them now straggling companies 
 of noisy youths and maids skipping about from house to 
 house and making lively disport." 
 
 " Yes, yes," said old Critch, peering over her shoulder,
 
 THE SEAL OF DE BURLEYVILLE. 57 
 
 " there they go a-gooding and a-corning with their gossip- 
 ing pot. But for my fat and stiff joints I would soon be 
 tripping it with them." 
 
 The girl closed the window and turned again to her com- 
 panion. " Knowest thou that which I should like to do, 
 Mother Critch? " she asked. 
 
 " Some mischief, my pet ; judging from thine eye." 
 
 " So dub it, if you will, but I would like to join the mum- 
 mers, and for sweet fun's sake go a-doling and a-singing to 
 the neighbors' houses. I would dress and bedeck myself as 
 a page so that none would know me. I would take a gittern 
 or some such instrument of melody, and 1 would sing love 
 ballads to the rustic maids, and tell them I were a prince's 
 page from London, or a southern troubadour. What sayest 
 thou to it, good Critch? " 
 
 " It were madcap talk were thy father to hear of it; but 
 he is hunting to-day." 
 
 "True, true, and that is why 'tis feasible. Wilt thou 
 help me into my guise ? ' ' 
 
 " That much will I do for curiosity's sake. But I warn 
 thee that unless thou makest a good page and can enact well 
 a lad's part, thou shalt confine thy merry capers in the limits 
 of thy chamber walls." 
 
 Saying this, the old woman went out. In a moment she 
 returned with a suit of page's clothes. In these she speedily 
 and deftly arrayed the Lady Brilliana. Had she been a 
 witch and waved her potent wand over the girl's head the 
 transformation could not have been more effective. In the 
 twinkling of an eye the beautiful maiden was changed into 
 a graceful youth.
 
 58 STUBS OF TIME. 
 
 Mother Critch stood back and surveyed her handiwork. 
 " Ha, ha, my doughty brave," she said, well pleased, '' a fair 
 young swain thou art, and every inch a high-bred page. 
 Take longer steps : swing thy arms a little more : bite thy 
 under lip as the mannish youths do when ihey would appear 
 stern and masterful : carry thy head as a game cock : throw 
 out thy chest ah, that is it mordieu! No hindrance 
 will I put in the way of thy going forth. Thou art as good 
 a lad as lives in merry England." 
 
 " And what shall my name be, Mother Critch? Christen 
 your new-born son." 
 
 " Robin let it be: 'tis a fair name and short." 
 
 The page tripped around the room in ecstasy of glee. 
 "Ay, let it be Robin," she answered; " and now I must 
 begone. Another party of maskers has come. I hear 
 them shouting at the gate." 
 
 In a few minutes she was a member of the rollicking 
 crowd of guisarts. They tarried at the castle but a little 
 while, giving and receiving trifling gifts in token of the 
 season's good will. Then singing, 
 
 i( Rise up good wife, and be no swier 
 To deal your bread as long's you're here : 
 The time will come when you'll be dead, 
 And neither want nor meal nor bread," 
 
 the merry party dances down the road to the sound of 
 drum, flute and oboe. There are youths and maidens from 
 the village, in costumes strange and divers. Masks they 
 wear, faces of spirits and demons ; and old Nick himself is 
 impersonated by more than one of the gay company. Like-
 
 THE SEAL OF DE BURLEYVILLE. 59 
 
 wise there are heads of sheep and goats, witches' faces, 
 tails, hoofs, old helmets, pots and pans painted diabolically, 
 smocks, cote-hardies, gaberdines and bassinets. 
 
 On they go with many a clatter and caper a tnedly 
 morris danced awry, and all seasoned with much whole- 
 some merriment, pranks and laughter. One young swain 
 has his head inserted in the half of a pumpkin, on the 
 yellow poll of which is pinned a red horse's tail for hair. 
 For mouth he has a toothed slit with set sardonic grin. 
 Some grey goose feathers and a little treacle smeared on 
 the cheeks made whiskers that would give a barber the 
 falling sickness. 
 
 Ting-a-ling, clit-clat, bang ! noisily they pursue their 
 riotous way some score of them, and the fair Bril- 
 liaua as frolicsome as any j^eoman in the crowd. Now the 
 leaders halt, and stop their rollicking song, and a shrill cry 
 of amusement and teasing goes cutting through the frosty 
 air. Fat and brown Polly Tots, tripping too high a 
 measure, has stepped upon her petticoat, and as it came 
 down and tangled in her feet, that wild youth, Guy Botten, 
 a groom at the Priory stables, did seize it, and waive it 
 high above his head, while he snatched the mask from 
 blushing Polly's face ; and when she jumped for the gar- 
 ment, did beat her back with kisses on her snub nose and 
 chubby mouth. After a while he gives the breathless 
 maid her mask, but flouts the skirt, pennant-like from a 
 bean pole which he pulled up by the wayside, and impro- 
 vised into flag-staff service. 
 
 As they pass through the little hamlet of Hedgedown, the 
 villagers come to their doors and greet them with smiles and
 
 60 STUBS OF TIME. 
 
 God-speeds ; the younger revellers run to the doors and 
 knock, crying for furmety and meath. Cross old Dame 
 Gobblecot stands on her threshold with arms akimbo, and 
 looks with surly disapprobation on the merry-makers. 
 Rumor has her a witch ; owls have been seen to alight on 
 her chimney ; and a big toad, fat and evil-eyed, lives under 
 the stone of her door-step. On stormy evenings strange 
 lights have flashed in her windows and eerie moans and 
 wailings have been heard around her demesne. 
 
 "Ho, Mother Gobblecot!" cries that dare-devil, Guy 
 Botten ; " season's greetings and good wishes to thee ; and 
 how dost like my banner? Is it not enow to give valor 
 to the young men's hearts? And hast thou stout, sack or 
 other brew for us ? so that we may drink thy health and go 
 on our way with belly full of thy good ale and heart full of 
 good wishes for thy welfare? " 
 
 " Pox on thy good wishes ! thou besotted mesled muck- 
 worm a pail of slop-water have I, which well mayest thou 
 swill down thy impudent throat. Come but a step nearer, 
 and thou shalt have it willy-nilly ; and if not inside then 
 outside, by my troth ! It would be as honey to my soul to 
 empty it on thy head and see thy impish eyes blinking through 
 grease and brine, and all thy gay garnishments reeking with 
 old victuals and kitchen liquors." 
 
 " So surely a spirit ill becomes the season, Dame Gobble- 
 cot," laughed the young rascal, sidling to a safer distance. 
 " A plague on thee and thy house, and if thou hast not the 
 ill will of St. Thomas for a twelve-month, I'll burn tapers to 
 the devil. We wish thee good morrow and a rollicking 
 holiday in company with thy chummy ghouls. And 'twere
 
 THE SEAL OF DE BURLEYVILLE. 61 
 
 not the time of good will and security, I'd have thee 
 weighed against the great Bible of Canterbury, or tied 
 thumbs criss-cross to toes, and thrown into the icy Stour to 
 prove thou art in league and contract with the devil. I'll 
 wager thou canst not weep but three tears, and they from 
 thy left eye ; and that thou hast misplaced teats plus two, 
 and of unnatural shape, wherewith thou dost suckle black 
 cats and imps, nurturing them to greater evil with the vile 
 decoctions of thy blood. A plague on thee, and the Saints 
 preserve us from thy practices. Virgo Maria milii succurre, 
 et defende ab omni maligno demonio, et ab omni maligno 
 spiritu." 
 
 Out of Hedgedowu the festive masqueraders danced, and 
 on toward Gruilforth Castle. The watcher at the gate sees 
 them coming and blows his trumpet two long blasts 
 and one short the signal of welcome and friendship. For 
 all is now peace and good will throughout broad England. 
 No stirring of enemies is feared. The sword will rust and 
 the bow go unstrung until the joyous days are passed. 
 Heart and house will be open ; the Lord of Misrule and the 
 spirits of genial beneficence will reign in the land. 
 
 The drawbridge is down , and the revellers pass on ; 
 " Hagmena, Hagmena, gives us cakes, cheese, good farls, 
 and lambs- wool," they cry.
 
 62 STUBS OF TIME. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 " A crimson dye my face orespred, 
 I blusht for shame and hung my head, 
 To find my sex and story knowne, 
 When as I thought I was alone." 
 
 The Lady turned to Serving-man. 
 
 They are received in the big hall where a party of the Lord 
 Guilforth's retainers are already making merry. Young 
 Aylwin is there, and takes a part in the sports, or with 
 a pleased countenance watches the others. 
 
 The hall is a vast one, with a great fireplace at each end, 
 besides a large iron brazier in the middle. Festoons of 
 holly and ivy sweep in graceful arches from the ceiling ; 
 while divers greenery and berries of purple and scarlet are 
 placed about the room. The newcomers join readily in the 
 games. With the joy of mischief, the Lady Brilliana threw 
 herself into the merriment, and there is none more lively than 
 she. Her clear singing and pretty dancing make her marked 
 among the rest. 
 
 Young Aylwin sees the fair page, and notes the smooth- 
 ness of his cheek, the softness of his eye, the full redness of 
 his mouth, the bright sheen of the ringlets that steal from 
 under his cap. Also the well-turned grace of his nether 
 limbs. 
 
 " By my faith ! " thinks he, " here is a comely lad. What 
 right has sex of mine be he youth or no to cheeks of 
 pink velvet, big dove's eyes and lush red lips which are as
 
 THE SEAL OF DE BURLEYVILLE. 63 
 
 sorcerers' spells to craze a man? I can but love so soft and 
 full a mouth, though it were on the Prophet Jonah. And 
 were those eyes possessed by an asp, fain I'd be tempted 
 (like she of Egypt) to clasp their owner to my bosom. So 
 fair a youth must be a court page, or some great lord's 
 young esquire. Certes, he is of noble blood. Nature could 
 never have wrought so fair a countenance out of the coarse 
 materials onions, garlics and oaten cakes on which she 
 rears the yeomanry and villeinage. The stock that brought 
 forth so fair a bud must needs have been nourished on rari- 
 ties of vintage and gentle, well-cooked viands. Observe 
 the contrast 'twixt him and t'others. How generations of 
 rough ale and onions are writ upon their brows ; how their 
 forms discourse not of lightsome lance, keen swords, hawk 
 and hound, but of plow, sickle, and heavy limbed oxen ; 
 their eyes speak submission, and their gnarled members tell 
 tales of toil ; while he, in all his bearing, would seem to 
 manifest gentry. In his bright hair there shines the gold of 
 princely lineage. His eyes have a flash of crown jewels. 
 His form has been moulded by the persuasive touch of rare 
 fabrics from Eastern looms ; and the sweet pout of his ripe 
 red lips could have been shaped and bestowed only by the 
 breast of some high born Venus. I'll speak to him ; he is a 
 stranger in these parts ; for I can swear that never have I 
 seen his face before. Perchance, he's down from London 
 to spend the holidays with friends or kindred. Would I 
 could inducement give which might cause him to tarry and 
 become a member of our household retinue. Beauty I love, 
 and want it 'bout me, no matter in what shape or form, the 
 hand of God has writ it."
 
 64 STUBS OF TIME. 
 
 Aylwin becks to the fair page and takes him aside while 
 the others make merry with games, music and a great tan- 
 kard of lambs- wool which the steward has brought forth. 
 Nor need we say that all this while many sly glances had 
 the sweet page Robin taken towards Aylwin ; and her small 
 red heart had beat quicker than it was wont, when she saw 
 that he observed and marked her above all others. Noted 
 she too (nor did it serve to lessen her heart beats) that he 
 was the same gallant she had seen on the day of the hunt 
 most good to look upon ; that his form was a tall and 
 pleasing harmony of well knit grace and strength ; that 
 his hair was thick and brown, and made a frame most 
 admirable for his clear-cut face. First and last noted she 
 his eyes that they shone wondrously, and, when they 
 met the glance of hers, she experienced something like a 
 shock of strange feeling such as she could not define, yet 
 was conscious of both a fear and a happiness. 
 
 " Sweet lad," said Aylwin, as the blushing page came 
 and bowed before him, ready to hear his will, "I have 
 observed thee and thy fair proportions and gentle graces 
 have ta'en my eye. Points several have I cognized which 
 would seem to denote thee a stranger here and to the major 
 portion of this company. 1 did see thee either stand aloof 
 or else with much timidity mingle in the festivities. Nor 
 have I seen thy face before, and from thy bearing I should 
 judge that thou wert not hand and glove with this thy com- 
 pany, from which thou rather differeth. Now, I would 
 know thy name whence thou cometh, whither goest, and 
 at what manor art retained." 
 
 " My Lord," quoth Brilliana, with heart fluttering like a
 
 THE SEAL OF DE BURLEYVILLE. 65 
 
 wounded snipe, and a color which flickered 'twixt white and 
 red, " my Lord, I am a a page." 
 
 She had not prepared for any such ordeal as this. With 
 all the gay giddiness of one of her years and sex, she had 
 dashed into the adventure, without foresight or provision for 
 any such emergency. Now, did this interview catch her 
 suddenly nonplussed and alarmed. 
 
 "Egad! and I presume so," said her questioner. 
 " Bear up, my lad, be not so timorous. Even a male child 
 in swaddling clothes should be more true to his sex than to 
 be frightened when there is no cause for fear. Thy stature 
 proclaims thee well in thy double numbers, 'tis time thou 
 knew what courage meant. So have we here another evi- 
 dence of the bad consequences of these times of peace, and 
 the mild and weakening amity of our sovereign Richard ; 
 that boys such as thou should grow up and be so un- 
 accustomed to scenes of danger and deeds of violence that 
 they even tremble at a stranger's voice, and have the tender, 
 blushing bearing of a fearsome girl. Come, come, my lad, 
 'twill never do! Hold up thy head and look me a fearless 
 eye. I'm no Gorgon to devour thee, nor god to strike thee 
 dumb. But a short space of time intervenes thee and a 
 man's full estate, and yet thou standest there quaking like 
 a hounded rabbit. Come, let us learn some more. A page 
 thou art? Very good. Now tell me whose page? " 
 
 " A page from London, my Lord." 
 
 " Odso, and whose? " 
 
 " Of the good Lord Lord Lancaster. 
 
 "Ay, sayest thou so; now will I be a lawyer villainous 
 and question thee closely, for methinks I scent a mystery 
 
 5
 
 66 STUBS OF TIME. 
 
 or a torted truth. I shall elicit the whole truth from thy 
 pretty lips, though I have to drag it forth in grains more 
 fine than miller's dust. So thou art my noble Lord Lan- 
 caster, his page, and how long since? " 
 
 " Full two years, sir." 
 
 " And when didst thou leave his court? " 
 
 " Yesternight, sir." 
 
 ' ' And thou wast with him till then ? ' ' 
 
 "Yea, my Lord, right by his side, in unbroken attend- 
 ance, as chief page and boy-in-waiting. I was bearer of his 
 messages, the holder of his robes, and at the table I did 
 wait upon him." 
 
 " Stay, I have thee in a corner, my pretty lad, nor shalt 
 thou elude me till the truth which thou dost hold so locked 
 fast and cautiously is yielded up to me in all its chaste vir- 
 ginity. Know thou, therefore, that I am intimate at my 
 Lord Lancaster's house. Whenever I am in London his 
 roof shelters my head. I call his house my second home. I 
 know each page and servant of his retinue by name as well, 
 indeed, as I do my own. Yet never have I seen thy face 
 within his portals. To be short, boy, I tell thee plainly 
 thou dost lie. Thy tale was plausible enow for one unac- 
 quainted with the facts ; but in the matter of thy audience 
 thou didst mistake sadly. Speak out now, for I will have 
 it, and fear not ; thy mind is too childish and too innocent 
 for thee to work malefice. Nor am I offended at thy 
 prankish lie. 'Tis harmless sport and mischief of the sea- 
 son, no doubt. Surely thy face and years bespeak no pur- 
 pose dark and sinister. Thy whole bearing gives a lie to
 
 THE SEAL OF DE BURLEYVILLE. 67 
 
 all dissimulation. Now, my pretty boy, tell me who and 
 what art thou? " 
 
 Lord Aylwin leaned over and took the page's hand. 
 
 The Lady Brilliana was now frightened beyond her wit's 
 end. But one idea possessed her mind flight escape. 
 She glanced into her captor's eye and then shot another look 
 towards the door at the end of the hall. Like a terrified 
 hart she turned and sprang away, dashed through the 
 crowd of revelers and out the door. Down the stone steps 
 she went at a bound. The drawbridge was down ; the port- 
 cullis was up ; and in a moment she had gained the highway 
 on the heath. 
 
 Meantime a cry of "Stop thief, catch him, chase him," 
 had been raised in the castle, and the party of merrymakers 
 broke up in confusion. They all joined in the chase. 
 Many, being somewhat in their cups, fell by the wayside, or 
 staggered along, laughing uproariously and shouting, " Stop 
 thief," at the top of their voices. Scarcely one knew just 
 what had occurred. Various versions were set forth. Some 
 said Lord Aylwin had been stabbed and killed by the page, 
 and now lay weltering in blood behind the arras in the far 
 end of the hall. Others had it that their human quarry had 
 stolen the Guilforth coronet. Thus they surmised and 
 straggled on across the lea, while the Lady Brilliana on the 
 wings of terror speeded on so light-footed, so swift that 
 it was but a little while before a great stretch was between 
 her and pursuers. 
 
 The Lord Aylwin after recovering from the surprise 
 which the sudden turn of affairs had engendered, crying 
 "Catch him, stop him," had brushed aside the jovial
 
 68 STUBS OF TIME. 
 
 rollickers and sprung to the front leading the chase. But a 
 few paces, however, made it plain to him that owing to his 
 surcoat, he stood no chance of coming up with the fleet- 
 footed page. Also because of the befuddled and heedless 
 estate of the others, he saw that the fugitive stood a most 
 excellent opportunity of bidding them a farewell forever. 
 Thereupon he turned and ran towards a little hill which rose 
 on the edge of Briarvale, a short distance to his left. 
 Reaching the crest of the hill, he placed his fingers to his 
 lips and sent out a whistle long, shrill and piercing. 
 
 In the meadow pasture, a quarter mile away, was a drove 
 of horses grazing and frisking around their stable. One of 
 them raised his head and pricked his ears as the whistle 
 came a-ringing through the cold air. He walked from the 
 herd and stood on its edge, sniffing the air with head high 
 as he listened yet more intent. Moslem, the Arabian 
 stallion, had heard his master, and in another moment was 
 speeding toward him swift as a hawk from mews. 
 
 The turf flew from his feet as the beautiful charger 
 brought himself to a sudden standstill by his master's side. 
 Aylwin leaped upon his back, gave him a pat on the neck, 
 a slight knee-pressure on the side. The intelligent creature 
 knew what was wanted and lighted out across the lea. The 
 earth appeared to be racing under them ; the wind hissed 
 and sang shrilly in the rider's ears. As the shadow of a small 
 cloud glides across the plain, so went Moslem. Like an arrow 
 he shot by those of the maudlin crew who still held to the race. 
 
 Far down the road was a cluster of yews at a turning of 
 the way. Small space elapsed before the rider wheeled 
 around them, and then he saw the flgure of the runaway,
 
 THE SEAL OF DE BURLEYVILLE. 69 
 
 small and distant, still running rapidly down the long 
 stretch of road. Moslem was touched on the flank, and 
 with a more voracious appetite he ate up the ground inter- 
 vening between pursuer and pursued. 
 
 Now the fleeing one hears the rhythmic clattering of the 
 hoofs, and looks backward, white with despair and fear. 
 She turns abruptly to one side and makes for a thorn hedge, 
 on the south side of which is a dense thicket of ilex. Vain 
 hope ! Another spurt of speed by the horse, and then at a 
 word from his master, he slackens his gait as he comes up 
 within a few yards of the page. 
 
 It must be done adroitly. A few more steps and the 
 fugitive will gain the hedge and perchance escape. A false 
 move of horse or rider and the boy's life and limbs are 
 endangered. So thought Ay 1 win. 
 
 As gently as a swallow alighting, does the steed come up 
 beside the runner. Aylwin reaches over and catches the 
 fugitive in the collar of her doublet. Horse, rider and run- 
 away are all brought to a stop. But the garment has torn, 
 split down the back and down the breast. It is now 
 only held by the baldrick and sleeves. And lo, what does 
 the young Lord Aylwin see ! a maiden's bosom two 
 twin snow -balls capped with strawberries fair, lovely, 
 but sacred, and not to be gazed upon. The panting, terror- 
 stricken Brilliana, forgetting all else in her maiden modesty, 
 pulls the rent bodice about her breast, and crouches down, 
 face in hands, and bursts into tears. And there through 
 the rent in the back of her garb gleams her soft white 
 shoulder with its carmine brand the wreath and fylfot 
 the seal of de Burleyville.
 
 70 STUBS OF TIME. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 " Ten thousand times farewell; yet stay awhile; 
 Sweet, kiss me once ; sweet kisses time beguile : 
 I have no power to move. How now, am I in love? " 
 
 Corydori's Farewell to Phillis. 
 
 ' ' Heaven of mercy ! Alack ! What have we here ? 
 What have I done? " murmured the Lord Aylwin, as he 
 stood and looked down on the weeping maiden. Pale 
 pink was such of her cheeks as he could see ; snowy her 
 neck. Her cap had come off, releasing the great knot of 
 twisted gold which it had held concealed. Now the long 
 locks streamed down about her breast and shoulders as 
 though they were sentient of the virgin's shame, and sought 
 to help conceal what was not to be seen. 
 
 "The daughter of de Burleyville ! " ejaculated Aylwin, 
 " and blood enemy to my house." 
 
 All the reply he got was the low sniffling of the girl. 
 Moslem, questioning, mild, inscrutable, stood patiently 
 regarding the twain. Save this trio, no other figures of 
 animate life appeared on the landscape. Great clouds hung 
 over the distant villa of Hedgedown, and seemed to be low- 
 ering their dark heads to kiss the smoke rising from the 
 cottars' chimneys. A solitary bustard came to the edge of 
 a copse some hundred paces off, and jumping onto a log, 
 stood doubtful and inquisitive took in the prospect of 
 wintry desolateness, and returned again to his fastness. 
 
 Now, as he stood looking down upon the lone pitiable maid,
 
 UNDER THE GREAT DRUID THEY PLIGHTED THEIR TROTH.
 
 THE SEAL OF DE BURLEYVILLE. 71 
 
 did a great swell of soft tender feeling rise in the heart of 
 the young knight. He kneeled by her, nor scarce could he 
 hold back from taking her in his arms and kissing the pink 
 and white tear-damp little face. He felt like some great 
 loving mother she was his child ; and he was sorry, and 
 he knew not why ; and he was glad, and he knew not why ; 
 and his heart felt all too soft and melting, for a strong brave 
 knight ; yet he could not help it. 
 
 " Sweet Lady," he began, " sweet bud of the hated 
 house of Burleyville, I beseech thee stay thy tears, and fear 
 not. Sworn by the bones of my fathers and by the Cross 
 and Blood am I to despise thy race and work it what mis- 
 chief I can ; yet I tell thee, damsel, that first and last, I am 
 a knight and man, e'en before I was aught else. The 
 strongest oath that ever was broached by God, man or 
 devil cannot stem or change the course of blood and nature. 
 Who swears against nature must needs perjure himself. 
 The wrong is in the taking of such oaths, not in the break- 
 ing of them. As I am first and last a man and knight, so 
 as a man, I love and pity thee, and as a knight, give honor 
 and protection to thy sex." 
 
 He stopped speaking, and regarded the sorrowful lady, 
 who answered him not, though he noted that her sobs did 
 lessen. So he sat silently regarding her, awaiting her 
 speech, while his heart grew more soft, and less able be- 
 came he to restrain himself that he take her not in his arms. 
 He felt that of all places in the world was his shoulder the 
 most suited for her head to rest upon, that he might be 
 better able to give her comfort and soothing. Still the lady 
 spoke not, and a great quietude lay about them, saving
 
 72 STUBS OF TIME. 
 
 that now and then the hedge sparrows chattered in the 
 nearby bushes of hawthorue ; and once a golden-crowned 
 wren did pry at them and chirrup impertinently. 
 
 At length the Lord Aylwin, being an ardent young man, 
 of quick blood and impulsive deed, held back no longer, but 
 did perforce take the sorrowing maiden bodily into his 
 arms; did kiss her hair and cheeks, and, perchance, even 
 her lips (which, however, we do but guess at, as the only 
 witness, the gallant Moslem, has ever been reticent as to this 
 point). 
 
 ' ' By the Holy Virgin ! ' ' quoth the warm youth when he 
 betook his mouth to word instead of deed ; " sweet Lady, I 
 do love thee. I prithee be comforted. Cease thy tears, and 
 speak to me, and fear not either for thy honor, thy freedom , 
 or thy good name. I call the calendar of saints to witness 
 that I love with a love which would pluck out my heart and 
 give it to vultures ere I'll work thee a mischief. I yield me 
 to thy sweet will, Lady. Command, and I do thy bidding." 
 
 The Lady Brilliana was not averse to being comforted, 
 though, forsooth, it were in a manner most strange and new 
 to her, she never before having known what solace to a 
 stricken maid there was in the arm of a brave youth ; nor 
 that the lips of such an one could be turned to methods of 
 comfort even more gracious than that of gentle words. She 
 wiped her tears, and pushed away from Aylwin. With the 
 quick intuition of her sex she, in an instant, knew her 
 strength, the power of her beauty how it could humble 
 the haughty, turn the stony heart into liquid honey, and 
 make the man of steel but as a column of smoke. 
 
 "Nay, nay, my Lord," she said, a smile breaking over
 
 THE SEAL OF Dfi BURLEYVILLE. 73 
 
 her face, as bright as sunlight on a dewy meadow, " you 
 are o'er hasty iii your avowals of love. I cannot entertain 
 them. But now you thought me a page a lad; and will 
 you talk of love so soon? Fie, my Lord, you do me too 
 much honor. I am young and know not the ways of men, 
 but methought true love a flower of slower growth. I have 
 heard old women say that very love buds slow and reaches 
 not its stature in a day or night. So have they said that 
 maidens should not heed the fervent words of men profes- 
 sing love ; that it most of tens fortunes men are but deceivers, 
 and their pledges as breakable as cockle shells, and all 
 their swearings to faith as fragile as spiders' webs." 
 
 Then replied the Lord Aylwin: " Sweet Lady, believe it 
 not. Old women, like old men, do give advice most sage 
 and wholesome when the stale ashes of their young hearts 
 lie dead and cold. I have noted that the alchemy of time 
 doth often turn the hot waywardness of youth into the icy 
 moralit3 T of age. Faith, I have heard it tell that such-and- 
 such an one, who now is old, with rusty bones and creaking 
 muscles, and so filled with divinity, healthy saws, and salu- 
 brious moralities that he cannot hear the children laugh 
 without a frown, I have heard that such an one, who now 
 wraps about his austere soul the garb of spotless sanctity, 
 and has no charity for the festivities of the young, was in 
 his youth a king of carousers, bawd and libertine, who had 
 more knack of dice, more tricks at cards, was the greatest 
 ale-jack, owed more debts, and had more science of de- 
 bauchery than any six Spanish sailors. 
 
 " So should thou be chary in giving belief to all that the 
 wearied wiseacres say. Is not the loving heart of youth in
 
 74 STUBS OF TIME. 
 
 as close touch and sure communion with eternal verity as 
 any withered hag or dour weak-limbed seer? Nor would I 
 have thee yet so gullible that thou would 'st take as gospel, 
 and act upon all which young blood and Mother Nature bids 
 thee to hearken. For it would seem that Nature has planted 
 treacheries in our systems ; and in our wishes and ambitions 
 there are snares and ambuscades which we do flounder into 
 to be striped and chastised ere we can extricate ourselves 
 and bear from their prickly fastnesses the golden apple of 
 experience. Therefore would I have thee weigh and win- 
 now both the promptings of the inner self and the proffered 
 wisdom of others. Adjust thy life to circumstance, and 
 keep the balance, so it can be thrown hither ward and 
 thitherward, as the time requires." 
 
 " Thou speakest words, my Lord, of deepest wisdom ; I 
 doubt it not." 
 
 " Ay, I was schooled at Oxenford in the latter part of the 
 last Edward's reign peace to his soul till rife dissen- 
 sion 'twixt fellows from north and south did rise, and then 
 with my preceptor a most learned man I took myself to 
 Stamford, till there the king's statute broke us up, and we 
 hied back to Oxenford. Between the times my body took 
 active part in sports of field, I have suffered my mind to 
 dabble much in philosophy, logic and other speculative 
 studies. But I tell thee, maiden, never yet has there been 
 aught interested me half so much as thou. Henceforth when 
 I incline me to astrology, thine eyes shall be my stars of first 
 magnitude in the heaven of thy face. The angles of my 
 trines and quadrates shall lie between thy brows, cheek and 
 lips. Should I incline to logic, I fain would read a syllogism
 
 THE SEAL OF DE BURLEYVILLE. 75 
 
 in thy face, having kisses for my premises, and more kisses 
 for the conclusion. For my art and poetry, I'll look at 
 thee ; for my music I'll have thee speak ; for theosophy and 
 philosophy, I'd have thee put thine arms around my neck 
 and lay thy cheek 'gainst mine. I warrant that all the 
 learning of Plato could not give such spiritual altitude as that. 
 What sayest thou, sweet wench? " 
 
 " My Lord, you flatter me. The honey of Hymettus is on 
 thy tongue. As honey-laden butterflies, your sweet words 
 fly out and must needs find a resting-place within my heart. 
 Almost would I believe you. Still I must confess to doubt 
 that so great passion was so shortly born." 
 
 "Doubt it not, my chuck. I have a soul of tinder it 
 has long been prepared it has been waiting, knowing not 
 its own latent capabilities. Now it has come at last the 
 spark, the fire it shot from your eyes, and I knew it at 
 once ; it fell among the tinder ; a tremor went through my 
 being; and my life my soul, burst into flame. I am 
 consumed. There is one thing that can save me. It is 
 you your love. Then will the burning prove a blessing, 
 and my soul, like the Phoenix of the myths, will arise from 
 the flames with a new life more grand more glorious, I 
 tell thee, maiden, I do love thee. Hitherto my life has been 
 as grass, dry and dead. Now hast thou cast the torch into 
 it. It has been as a seed which has lain in cold and dark- 
 ness, dormant all winter. Now has the quickening vernal 
 sunlight shown upon it, and it springs up into life. I pray 
 thee, sweet damsel, let it put forth its shoots and tendrils ; 
 let it bourgeon and bloom ; let it bear fruit. Do not nip it 
 in the bud, nor permit the cold frost of thy displeasure to
 
 76 STUBS OF TIME. 
 
 settle upon it. Be thou the gentle sun, mild and beneficent, 
 to kiss it into fuller life." 
 
 "But, my Lord, consider," said Brilliana, now a thor- 
 oughly composed mistress of the occasion, " since love 
 hath made thee mad , it behooves me to call back your mind 
 to things we must not forget to facts that shriek as 
 hideous jackdaws, and awaken us from any pleasant dreams 
 of romance. Remember, my Lord, the enmity 'twixt our 
 houses. What can it avail us, though a quotidian of love 
 do boil and posset in our souls? Marriage, sir, is out of 
 the question. A union is impossible. In truth, did our 
 noble sires but see us thus holding converse, sweet and 
 amicable, our lives were not worth a Robin Hood's penny- 
 worth. Swift as a hurtling hawk would my father's 
 vengeance fall. It does set me all a-tremor to think upon 
 it. The sword that seals each Burleyville would seal my 
 doom. I beg thee assuage the rushing current of thy love, 
 till these considerations, as carracks, sail within the harbors 
 of thy mind, and cast their anchors." 
 
 " Dear Lady, speak not of such things to me at this time. 
 Tell me, yea or nay, dost thou favor me? " 
 
 " My Lord, thou art a youth so noble and impetuous, 
 thou hast taken my heart away, whether I would or no. It 
 lies now in the keeping of thy honor. Guard it well, my 
 Lord 'tis a tender maiden's heart, and in it is the precious 
 treasure of a sweet first love. Gently hold it, my Lord, 'tis 
 thine as long as thou art worthy and willing to keep it ; and 
 when thou art not, 'twill break into a thousand tittles and 
 be no more." 
 
 Here did the old chronicler from whom we gleaned this
 
 THE SEAL OF DE BURLEYVILLE. 77 
 
 tale leave a blank space in his narrative. When he bids us 
 look again at this pair of lovers, he says that there is a 
 deeper color on the lady's cheeks, and that her hair is more 
 tousled, and that a softer light shines in her eyes and those 
 of her companion. Then he goes on to say that the Lord 
 Aylwin stepped back and raised his clenched fists toward 
 the sky and cried: " Witness, ye heavenly sabaoth, I do 
 love this girl, and dare all damnation that can arise of men 
 or the world ! Vows and allegiance to the blackest pit ! 
 she shall be the queen and lady of my heart." 
 
 The lovers then did take them back to the castle. The 
 curious questioners were soon silenced by Aylwin, he telling 
 that the boy had done no harm, but led them a-chase only 
 in the spirit of mad frolicsomeuess consonant with the sea- 
 son. He had been overtaken, and just deserts of rebuke 
 and chastisement administered him. Let no one concern 
 themselves further, but continue their disports. Henceforth 
 he would take it upon himself to look to the behavior of this 
 wayward page. 
 
 And so did the Lord Aylwin. He and the Lady Brilliana, 
 taking themselves to the great window-seat in the far 
 end of the hall, did there seemingly engage in throwing 
 dice, and played at such other games of hazard, the chief of 
 which, it is needless to say, was the game of love. 
 
 So things went on till the day grew drowsy and the 
 shadows of the hills stretched and yawned. The lusty revel- 
 lers sang farewell roundelays and madrigals more boister- 
 ous than tuneful ; yet 'twas intended in good part, and so 
 received. 
 
 " My Sweet," said Aylwin, " I will walk with thee a
 
 78 STUBS OF TIME. 
 
 pace ; let us fall behind the others, that love may have no 
 idle audience, nor thy secret be divulged." 
 
 "Be it so, dear Lord," answered the erstwhile page, 
 " suspicion lurks not in a brain that teems with wine. Our 
 company has taken so bountifully of thy hospitable largess, 
 that I opine they have knowledge of little, saving their own 
 merriment. "Pis a time when questions and concerns are 
 fleeing to the winds, and folk busy themselves only with 
 what appertains to jollity." 
 
 Coming toward the outskirts of Harbledown, while the 
 rest of the company passed on, the lovers tarried beneath the 
 old oak, known throughout the parish as the " Great 
 Druid." Gnarled, hoary and majestically imposing was 
 this patriarch of trees. The winds that murmured through 
 its mossy boughs seemed to discourse and whisper secret- 
 ively of old mysteries, legends and traditions. What scenes 
 of love and bloodshed had it not looked upon. Celt, 
 Roman, Dane, Saxon and Norman had loved and fought 
 beneath its paternal branches. White robed Druids, bear- 
 ing sickles of gold, had scaled its trunk and severed the 
 sacred mistletoe which grew rank on its limbs. Local myth 
 had it that the Dryad of the oak was of great good will 
 towards lovers, and exercised a constant guardianship and 
 supervision over the affairs of heart; that vows and 
 compacts entered into beneath the tree were to her matters 
 of lively interest, and their keeping she looked to most care- 
 fully. Who violated trusts thus compacted were supposed 
 to incur her ill will, and thereby bring much hurt and mis- 
 chief upon themselves. 
 
 Therefore was the " Great Druid " a far-famed trysting
 
 THE SEAL OF DE BURLEYVILLE. 79 
 
 place for lovers ; and the youths and maidens of the vicin- 
 age rested not content till their vows had been inter- 
 changed within the jurisdiction of the Dryad. Of summers' 
 nights and during the bland time of the harvest moon, this 
 old tree witnessed many a sweet scene of pastoral passion. 
 Locked in its great faithful oaken heart were romantic 
 secrets of centuries, which it had kept inviolate. Once, long 
 ages ago, on a vernal evening, when the rabbits frisked in 
 the moonlight and the cowslips peeped up from the grass 
 like the pale faces of tiny elves, a tragedy had been enacted 
 under its sheltering arms. But no one knew it now not 
 even the starlings and magpies who built their nest among 
 the branches and were on such intimate terms with the 
 august tree. Grim, kindly, serene, immutable, it imparted 
 to no one that its roots had drunk the blood of two tender 
 young sweethearts, who met there, took a last long kiss and 
 embrace, and died by their own wills. They thought it 
 better so. They were young. There were obstacles, trials 
 and sorrows in the path of their love, which their short 
 perspective of life did not permit them to see beyond. So 
 they sought death, that they might be together for aye. 
 Another decade to their years and the horizon might have 
 been wider, and they would have lived. His hand and his 
 dagger did the work; it was a quick stroke, and she, 
 looking in his eyes, received it in her white bosom with a 
 smile. Then the red point was turned to his own breast. 
 Another quick stroke, and he flung the dripping knife out 
 into the grass and moonlight. It shimmered and fell, 
 startling the playing rabbits. Rolled in each other's arms 
 then they fell over gently. Their lips clung ; their hearts'
 
 80 STUBS OF TIME. 
 
 * 
 
 blood mingled. And the old tree sighed wearily, knowingly 
 overhead. 
 
 Unknown to them, Aylwin and Brilliana now stood over 
 the grave of those lovers of the past, and plighted, their troth. 
 He took a seal ring from his little linger and looked upwards. 
 They were not quite under the mistletoe. He drew her over 
 a little to one side and slipped the ring on her third finger. 
 Then he turned up the face fair and somewhat boyish, and 
 placed a long kiss of first love on her lips. 
 
 Brilliana stepped back and sighed. " The ring slips, my 
 Lord," she said ; " it is too large." 
 
 " What matter, my Sweet ? Our love is no thing of trinkets 
 or jimmel rings. 'Tis spiritual, and its seal and bond is 
 worn upon the soul. Yet hold the ring and wear it in thy 
 bosom. The imprise which it bears the lion and dagger 
 of Guilforth will thus escape thy father's eye. Did 
 he but see the hated emblem on thy betrothal finger, he'd 
 crack the very skies in wrath. Wear it in thy bosom, 
 Sweet, where it may hear the pulsing of thy heart and ever 
 be a witness that every throb beats true for me. And if ever 
 false note sound there, ifc shall gall and burn thee worse than 
 sting of cockatrice." 
 
 " Verily, and so may it, my Lord. I know not of love's 
 ways and of how maids should carry on their amours. What 
 little I know, I gathered from ' Le Livre du Chevalier de la 
 Tour Landay.' But I tell thee, if ever I have a thought not 
 true to thee, then may the eye of heaven be shut forever, 
 and never beam again upon our fair earth. May all the 
 legions of the fallen angels come from their dark abysm, and
 
 THE SEAL OF DE BURLEYVILLE. 81 
 
 point the finger of black appeachment at me, then hurl me to 
 their miseries." 
 
 " Well spoken, my chuck, and may St. Francis and the 
 Dryad here help thee to keep to it. No very good reading 
 for a lady is the book thou speakest of. One would think 
 that Lauday's two daughters were strumpets, that they had 
 to be so advised. A monk who schooled me at Baliol 
 College used to caution me concerning the inconsistency of 
 maidens' hearts. As barnacles to a rock, so clung his 
 words to my mind, and now they spawn misgivings whether 
 I would or not, nor can I rid myself of them, though the 
 truth in thy heart shines in thy eyes with a light I should not 
 doubt." 
 
 " And what said your tutor, my Lord, which made such 
 ugly impress on the spotless candor of thy mind and 
 memory ? ' ' 
 
 "He parled much, my Heart, and seriously of maidens' 
 wiles and deceptions ; he said that pretty girls were com- 
 pounded of the devil, being made of rainbows and moon- 
 beams, winds, water, fire and will-o'-wisps ; they could not 
 be come up with ; they blew hither and thither ; they crazed 
 a man and drowned his senses ; they set fire to his reason ; 
 they led him a-dance ; they were like wary fireflies, and 
 made men but as a little child, chasing them." 
 
 "Terrible, my Lord! How you do affright me and 
 cause my heat to grow heavy. But sometime it was a cork 
 skipping and dancing on a dimpled sunlit stream of joy ; 
 now it is a stone sinking in a muddy pool of stagnant sorrow. 
 I could die of the sullens." 
 
 6
 
 82 STUBS OF TIME. 
 
 44 Take not on so, my Sweet, the father may have been in 
 the wrong." 
 
 " But was he not old and wise and good? " 
 
 " So I thought him." 
 
 " Then you believe him, and will not love me because I 
 am composed of vain deceits and made by the devil? And 
 did he further say that a maiden spoke no truth? " 
 
 " He said that when hair was found on toads, teeth in the 
 bills of hens, horns on horses, hoofs on hares, and wings on 
 swine, then might we look for truth in maidens." 
 
 "Oh, my Lord! thy poniard give it me I will 
 end myself. So vile a wight were better to die than live 
 and be the devil's iniquitous instrument." 
 
 " Hold thee," said Aylwin, catching her hand, " the 
 reverend preceptor said that there was yet a heaven-sent 
 saving salt which sometimes bided in a maid, transmogrifying 
 all her evil propensities into properties of good and glory. 
 'Twas rare, he said, and few could hope to find it ; yet 
 the old seers and chronicles bear strict evidence of such a 
 thing." 
 
 " And that, my Lord, what is it? Now gleams a pale 
 hope-star across my soul's black main. Be thy next words 
 as those that rang o'er the primal chaos, and let this star 
 be changed into a blazing sun which shall banish gloom, 
 give the clouds into Iris's custody, and transform the dark 
 oppressive mists into radiant dews." 
 
 " So shall it be, my Fay. The good sage said this qual- 
 ity of salvation was a pure unfaltering love that would suffer, 
 brave, and die, for its beloved. Such think I that I have 
 found in thee. So be of bright cheer. 'Tis not writ that
 
 THE SEAL OF DE BURLEYVILLE. 83 
 
 Satan is a salamander who can live in the hot blaze of love. 
 I fancy that though your love shine cold as the moon, yet 
 are the rays of mine focused so hot on thee that old Legion 
 could work no evil in or around thee. In such a heat he 
 would wither and shrivel as a caterpiller on the hearth. So 
 will I not worry." 
 
 " Thus let it be, my Lord. And now I must be gone. 
 Soon will my father call me to the evening mass, and my 
 absence be fecund of questions." 
 
 " Another kiss, my Dove: and expect me on Christmas 
 Eve at the gaieties in thy father's hall. Dressed as a mum- 
 mer, I will come in guise of a husky strapping wife. You 
 be a page again, and I have no dubitations but that we shall 
 have occasion to give leash to our Cupid." 
 
 " It shall be as you say, my Lord. Adieu, adieu." 
 
 " Another kiss. Adieu, Adieu, my Life."
 
 84 STUBS OF TIME. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Although the cold weather doth hunger provoke, 
 'Tis a comfort to see how the chimneys do smoke; 
 Provision is making for beer, ale and wine, 
 For all that are ready or willing to dine ; 
 Then haste to the kitchen for diet the chief, 
 Plum-pudding, goose, capon minc'd-pies and roast beef. 
 Then well may we welcome old Christmas to town, 
 Who brings us good cheer, and good liquor so brown; 
 To pass the cold winter away with delight, 
 We feast it all day and we f rolick all night. 
 
 Percy's Ballads, 
 
 There was much ado on Christmas Eve at the great 
 manor of de Burleyville. Friar Snicke, after much delib- 
 eration, prayer and fasting, had finally compromised with 
 his conscience and accepted the office of Master of Merry 
 Disports. 
 
 As atonement for the possible sin, he reserved a firm reso- 
 lution to betake himself to a lone hut in Romney Marsh im- 
 mediately after St. Distaff's Day, and there pass many 
 meager days in hunger, thirst, flagellation and nakedness. 
 So would old Nick be thwarted, did it happen that he had 
 effected a footing in the heart or gotten a grasp on the soul 
 of the Friar during the lax period of Yuletide. 
 
 Decked in his resplendent robes of office, the Friar now 
 superintended the important ceremony of bringing in the 
 Yule clog. A peaked, belled and parti-colored hood, or 
 wimple, covered his head, the lower portion being drawn
 
 *. 
 
 ! 
 -- 
 
 . . 
 
 -^ '
 
 THE SEAL OF DE BURLEYVILLE. 85 
 
 over his shoulders, so as to form a broad collar or garget. 
 Around the neck of the hood a scarlet tippet was wrapped 
 several times, its loose end hanging down in long streamers 
 nearly to the wearer's heels. A tri-colored cote-hardie or 
 jerkin, deeply dagged around its lower extremity fitted snugly 
 the Friar's globular figure, and reached midway the thighs. 
 A huge baldrick girt him about the zone of greatest circum- 
 ference the waist. The device on its clasp was a grinning 
 boar's-head impaled on a fork and done in silver bas- 
 relief. Striped trews belaced with tiny silver bells covered 
 his fat baker-legs, serving the triple purpose of trunks, 
 hose and leggings. On his feet were huge red crackoues, 
 snouted and crooked up, being fastened to his 'knees with 
 chains of gold and silver. A loose mantle or super-tunic 
 completed his attire. It was red and blue, heavily em- 
 broidered, and inwrought with figures done in cloth of gold. 
 In his right hand he held a beribboned warder ; in his left, 
 an immense kitchen fork, whose mate, the carving knife, 
 was carried in his belt. An enormous horn, hung by a 
 strap from the shoulder, bounced about the Friar's bulging 
 mid-region. Its purpose was twofold, depending upon 
 which end was raised to the lips. Stoppered it held two 
 quarts of ale; unstoppered it could emit a blast of fearful 
 volume. 
 
 From nearby Hentlingbraw Wood, the great log was 
 dragged. With four draft oxen, silver cords, ribbons and 
 bells, cymbals, oboes, cornutes, and many nimble youths 
 and maidens, leaping and singing with much laughter 
 thus it came. The Friar walked majestically alongside the 
 log, as the oxen with gilded horns and wreathed necks,
 
 86 STUBS OF TIME. 
 
 slowly dragged it along. Troops of merry children from the 
 neighboring villakins of Ickam and Fordwich dashed back 
 and forth in the road, or circled as a swarm of bees around 
 the gay procession, and made much noise. Seasonable snow 
 had fallen over night to the depth of three inches. Its 
 ubiquitous background of immaculate white set off the 
 scene, giving artistic tone and value to the commonplace, 
 and bringing out objects with a pleasing vividness and 
 intensity. Like a harmonious body-color it emmantled the 
 landscape, as though Nature, the master artist, had during 
 the night taken her brush and added the finishing touches 
 to a picture of Christmas. 
 
 " 1 wish you a Merry Christmas 
 And a happy New Year; 
 And a pocket full of money, 
 And a cellar full of beer; 
 And a good fat pig, 
 To serve you all the year. 
 Ladies and gentlemen set by the fire 
 Pity we poor boys out in the mire." 
 
 Sang the children. 
 
 " Not so loud, not so loud, you brats of Beelzebub," 
 chided the Friar, shaking his staff at them in affected 
 dudgeon ; ' ' would ye split the membrane of mine ears ? As 
 Sovereign, I would have mirth about me, but not pande- 
 monium." 
 
 " Ule, Ule, Ule, Ule, 
 Three puddings in a pule, 
 Crack nuts and cry Ule." 
 
 They cried, not heeding him.
 
 THE SEAL OF DE BDRLEYVILLE. 87 
 
 " It's good to cry Ule at other men's costs," growled the 
 Friar, repeating the old proverb more to himself than to the 
 children. Then skipping an awkward measure or so, he 
 threw back his head, and in a voice huskily hinting of ale 
 and hydromel, he pealed forth an abortive song whose notes 
 sounded like the bastard offspring of discord and the in- 
 fluenza. 
 
 " What singest thou, Friar? " asked Carew, reeve of the 
 manor, as the prelate came to a wheezy stop for the presum- 
 able purpose of recruiting his wind, words or tune. 
 
 " The Gloria in Excelsis, thou addled-brained ass, thou 
 mush-headed interrupter of inspired melody and laudation. 
 By thy fuddle-minded questioning thou hast caused me to 
 lose the tune. My beauteous anthem will now mount to the 
 skies all bobtailed and mutilated by reason of thy ill-timed 
 impertinence. It will go soaring into the celestial realms 
 like a lovely peacock without its tail, and the angels will 
 not recognize it as coming from the dulcet chords of my 
 humble and adoring throat. My song was cut short like 
 that of a rising nightingale struck down by the coarse 
 unfeeling lanaret. A plague on thee ! Thou hast no more 
 understanding nor ear for music than a Yule dough-baby." 
 
 " Pardon, Friar, I " 
 
 " Call me not' Friar,' lest I impale thy grinning idiot-face 
 on my sceptre; am I not thy liege Lord, stupid clodpole? 
 Have I not laid aside the frock and cowl and assumed regal 
 robes of ermine? I am 'your Highness,' if it please you, 
 and if it please you not, then will I condemn you in the drink- 
 ing of six quarts of ale 'twixt now and midnight, and thence 
 to dance jigs and capers in the main hall till daybreak."
 
 88 STUBS OF TIME. 
 
 " I shall observe your will, ray Liege." 
 
 " So 'twill be better for tb.ee, my man; and hold thy 
 tongue, for methinks I have caught the tune again. I hear 
 it running sweet and seductive in my head, begging me give 
 it leave to express itself to the world through the grand 
 organ of my mouth." 
 
 Again the Friar gave voice to a jarring dissonance, to the 
 great amusement of the children, who caracoled and clapped 
 their hands gleefully. 
 
 As the manor gate was neared, the din grew greater. 
 Snow was thrown, trumpets blared, dogs barked, and the 
 clash and clatter was terrific. The stolid oxen broke into a 
 trot and the disorderly cavalcade scampered helter-skelter, 
 hurry-scurry into the court-yard, the panting Friar bringing 
 up the rear, expostulating, and singing snatches from some 
 rude old mass, current long ere Josquin was born. 
 
 That night in the big hall there was held high carnival 
 indeed, and jollity was rampant. The Friar rather crapu- 
 lous and unsteady, from a great throne at the end of the 
 hall, dispensed his reign, aided by the Baron, who, seated in 
 a huge oaken chair at the feet of the monarch, acted as a 
 sort of Lord Chancellor or Chief Justiciary, ex officio, to 
 see that his Majesty's commands were rigidly enforced and 
 executed. Despite the show of authority, Ate came near 
 usurping the Friar's kingdom. But with the liberal flow 
 of wassail, the masked mummers, the singing and playing, 
 the roistering games and high jinks, there could be little of 
 order. Not much did it matter, so long as the fundamental 
 rule of government was observed ; that everyone should 
 eat, drink, carouse and be happy.
 
 THE SEAL OF DE BURLEYVILLE. 89 
 
 Buxom bouncing maidens, and smiling, simpering, 
 glassy-eyed pages staggered around, drank healths, played 
 games of chance and forfeit, such as Spinny Wye, Shoe- 
 the-wild-mare and Tappie-Toussie, and harried one another 
 with lips and arms under the mistletoe. There was wel- 
 come for all, room for all. About twilight when the white 
 face of the earth was yet softly suffused with the flush of 
 sunset, down the paths and highways for a league round- 
 about had come lively groups of persons. They converged 
 at the de Burleyville castle, where they formed the vortex of 
 merriment. Each neighboring thorpe had sent its delega- 
 tion of young folk as well as its contingent of gray -heads 
 and crooked shoulders. And though these latter bore 
 weight of years, they bore none of heart. Well knew they 
 all, both young and old, that the door of de Burleyville was 
 open to each retainer of the estate on Christmas Eve, be he 
 villein or free holder. On that blessed eve the serf met his 
 lord on an equal plane of festivity. 
 
 They had all come ; the yeoman's son with the wood- 
 cutter's daughter ; the smith with the pavior's brown-eyed 
 lass from Canterbury ; the soldier in his best buff jerkin ; 
 the weaver in his blue and white gaberdine ; the mason in his 
 white Holland shirt; saucy damsels, callow striplings, 
 roly-poly dames, and rustic gawky clodhoppers ; also brawny 
 men of toil and war, many wearing masks, and all in freakish 
 or gala attire. 
 
 Early in the evening the Yule log had been brought in 
 with suitable rites of song and formality. Master Snicke 
 had then selected a bevy of pretty girls to cast lot for the 
 honor of lighting it. Clemency Joyce, the tanner's hazel-
 
 90 STUBS OF TIME. 
 
 eyed, saucy-faced bud of sixteen, was the lucky one. The 
 remnant brand of last year's clog was ceremoniously brought 
 forth on a silver platter by two pages and laid in the Friar's 
 lap. 
 
 "Ho, there, silence! all my subjects," said Master 
 Snicke, rising with considerable difficulty, and rapping loudly 
 with his fork on the pewter beaker he had just drained. 
 " Wash thy hands well, my pretty maid, and then come and 
 let me inspect thee, and receive the sacred chunk from the 
 hands of thy king." 
 
 The damsel washed her hands, went forward, and kneeled 
 at the Friar's feet. 
 
 "Let me see thy hands that they be clean," he~ said. 
 
 She held out her hands ; the Friar took them in his and 
 raised her up. 
 
 " Spotless as snow, and now do I seal thy lips. Speak 
 no word till the new log is lighted." 
 
 He kissed the girl's lips a longer osculation than the 
 function demanded and then with much mock solemnity, 
 delivered the piece of charred word into her hands. There 
 was silence, save here and there in the crowd was a shuffling 
 of feet of those over-balanced with ale, also some whisper- 
 ings and suppressed sniggles of the irrepressible young. 
 
 The Friar frowned and rapped again, staggered, and sat 
 down, with a brave attempt at dignity. The crowd parted, 
 and the maiden with bowed head passed down to the great 
 fireplace. There she carefully placed the brand upon its 
 bed of crisp dry rosemary, holly, and bay, under the 
 immense new log. Over all she threw some seasoned 
 slivers from a shrew ash, and then applied a candle to the
 
 THE SEAL OF DE BURLEYVILLE. 91 
 
 pile. The bright flames rushed up with a crackle and hiss, 
 aud encircled the log. The crash of drums and trumpets 
 and a loud cheer broke from the waiting assembly. The 
 heavy tapestries swayed to and fro and the oaken rafters in 
 the high ceiling shook with the joyous clamor. Christmas 
 was begun in earnest. 
 
 It was the custom for the maid who lighted the Yule log 
 to preside with the Lord of Revelries as Queen of the even- 
 ing. The Friar delegated a page to escort the radiant 
 Clemency to his throne, where, taking her by the hand, he 
 seated her on his right and placed a wreath of bay and 
 mistletoe on her head. Then the courtiers and servitors of 
 his retinue, and all others who so desired, came forward and 
 did her homage, kneeling before her and kissing her hand, 
 while the crowd sang : 
 
 "Reign, Queen of Christmas, reign, ho-hayl 
 Till we with mirth aud mead are fay ; 
 We are thy meu, aud if we fail 
 To eat thy brawn aud drink thy ale, 
 Then throw us i' the robbers' gaol. 
 
 Reign, Queen of Christmas, reign ho-hiel 
 While love and laughter caper by, 
 Let black-jacks pass and song abide, 
 While serve we willing, at thy side 
 Our blessed Queen of blithe Yuletide! " 
 
 Higher and higher ran the flood of merriment. Strong 
 beer was broached and the black jacks went plentifully 
 around with toast, sugar, cakes, nutmeg aud cheese. 
 Towards midnight, the party began to break up, some 
 going to hunt the wren, and others to midnight mass.
 
 92 STUBS OF TIME. 
 
 Among those that remained were a group of young per- 
 sons gathered around the Friar's throne, being mainly com- 
 posed of pages and maids-in-waiting, attendant upon the 
 royal pair. This party, under the supervision of the Friar 
 and the Baron, for some time past had been engaged in merry 
 games of skill and forfeit. The Baron beamed benevolently 
 on the players, but, strict in everything, he saw to it that the 
 games were played fairly to all and that the rules were 
 rigidly complied with. Notable among the players were a 
 fair rosy-cheeked page wearing a half mask, and a tall 
 angular young woman, who towered above the other members 
 of her sex, and had every appearance of a rustic dairy -maid. 
 
 Amid the general hubbub these two persons had attracted 
 more than passing notice because of the evident beauty and 
 grace of one and the uncouthness of the other. The page, 
 having taken the eye of the Friar early in the evening, had 
 given his name as Poynes Verney, and was appointed chief 
 page for the night. So had the rollicking Queen Clemency, 
 in a spirit of fun, selected Gramudgin, the gawky milk- 
 maid, as her maid of honor. Such distinction had brought 
 the twain into still more prominence, and there had been 
 bred some curiosity as to their real identity. They had 
 been the butt of many jests and gibes, and it became a 
 great joke to bedub them lovers and twit them with accusa- 
 tions of a mutual passion for one another. The jesters 
 cast their fates with cards, and saw that the paths of their 
 fortune ran together in Hymen's court. This badinage 
 had been aggravated by a seeming pleasure which Poynes 
 and Gramudgin found in each other's society. It having 
 been decreed that they should kiss as the forfeit of a cer-
 
 THK SEAL OF DE BURLEYVILLE. 93 
 
 tain game in which they were losers, it was observed that 
 they did it lingeriugly and with little show of reluctance. 
 Great was the shout of laughter that had greeted this 
 spectacle, when the ungainly and grotesque Gramudgin 
 bent over the tip-toeing Poynes till their lips met. 
 
 Thus the hours flew by. " What disport next? " your 
 Highness," said Poynes, bowing before the Friar, at the 
 conclusion of a game "what game will it please our 
 sovereign Liege now to behold? Ordain, my Lord, the 
 next festivity for thy happy subjects to engage in, that 
 there be no tristful spirit in all thy realm, and that our 
 jollity may be as sweet chrism to thy soul. I come as the 
 emissary of thy people to announce that the most honorable 
 and highly delectable game of Thread-my-needle is con- 
 cluded, and thy loyal subjects do now clamor for a new 
 decree and mandate from thy serene Bouutifulness, as to 
 what further sport they shall pursue in order that their 
 king and the season shall be fitly honored and glorified." 
 
 " So-ho, Sir Page let us see another cup of furmety 
 good ! it drives the spur into jaded memory and makes it 
 as an unbroken stallion. It gives a fillip to nature. So 
 many edicts have we issued this evening that our store runs 
 short. Have the waits and pipers sung the roundels of 
 Gisla and Rotrude ? ' ' 
 
 " Ay, my Lord." 
 
 " Another cup, Sir Page. Good ! And the virelays of 
 the Sieur de Ribeaumont, hast the harper given us 
 them? " 
 
 " Early in the eve, my Liege." 
 
 "My memory grows laggard a little hippocras, Sir
 
 94 STUBS OF TIME. 
 
 Page the moiety of a cup. 'Gainst thou fetchest it, I will 
 bethink me ah, excellent! sweet page, thou hast it so 
 soon? 'Tis well flavored, but a little o'er strong of spice. 
 Howsoever, our recollections and intellect are quickened. 
 There's nothing like a temperate touch of the genial cup, my 
 lad, for bringing out the best of one's wits ; but only the 
 wise and cautious know how to use it well, fair youth ; and 
 I would admonish thee to be temperate, my lad ; thou art 
 yet unseasoned, and ale to the unripe mind is like too much 
 rain on the hops or too much strong leaven in the dough. 
 My character is of such hardened holiness that the little 
 piccadillos of the flesh rebound from it without doing it a 
 mischief." 
 
 " Ay, my Lord, your words are as heavy with wisdom as 
 is your regal breath with grog. But know, my Liege, that 
 thy humble subjects do wait impatient for the next decree." 
 
 " Then let them wait, thou paynim, thou jobbernole 
 let them wait and hear wisdom while we are in the frame of 
 mind to dispense it. Let us flavor their giddiness with 
 words of well-timed discretion. Our Pierian Spring does 
 not flow with uninterrupted course, but spouts intermittent. 
 When the fount is at its height, let all the people, no matter 
 what the time or occasion, hark with hungry ears, lest they 
 lose some word of erudition. Dost hear? " 
 
 "Yea, your Highness, each word makes indelible im- 
 press on my mind. Thou art a second Solomon, as well as 
 Christmas King." 
 
 " Well spoken, thou cunning tyke, so am I now let 
 us see were we not discoursing on the beauties of tem- 
 perance? and distilling learned maxims thereupon ? "
 
 THE SEAL OF DE BURLEYVILLE. 95 
 
 4 ' It is so, O, King." 
 
 " Then we will continue to conclusion. Bear this in 
 mind; the first cup, my boy, sharpens the wits; the 
 second loosens the tongue ; the third gives pugnacity ; the 
 fourth loosens the morals ; the fifth befuddles, and the sixth 
 puts a man in the sty. Thus with man. With woman, let 
 her first cup be labeled, silly; her second, amorous; the 
 third, brazen; the fourth, reckless; and her fifth, let it 
 bear nothing at all, but be blank. Dost follow me? Bear 
 in mind, young man, that I learned these things not through 
 experience, but by observation, reading and reflection; I 
 am a spiritual physician ; he who cures must know the 
 habits of his patient, the structure of his body and the effects 
 and nature of the malady." 
 
 "Yea, resplendent Above-all; but thy impatient servi- 
 tors" 
 
 "So, so, I forgot me. Now will I turn the spigot on 
 my fount of wisdom lest the floods of intellect drown those 
 who come to drink. I think I have it, Questions and 
 Answers have my vassals played that ? ' ' 
 
 " No, serene Exaltation." 
 
 " Then let it be. We ourselves will propound the inter- 
 rogatories. Gather the company round about our throne."
 
 96 STUBS OF TIME. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 " My Phillida, adieu love! 
 
 Forever more farewell! 
 Ay me! I've lost my true love, 
 And thus I ring her knell." 
 
 Corydon's Doleful Knell. 
 
 11 Be still now," commanded the Friar, when the spright- 
 some young people were collected about him and the Baron. 
 As luck would have it, he then singled out the awkward 
 Gramudgin for the first to be questioned, and bade her 
 come forth from the ranks and stand in the middle of the 
 circle. 
 
 " For the benefit of those who know not, I announce that 
 the rules of this ancient and excellent diversion are thus," 
 continued the Friar, "whatever is asked must be an- 
 swered truly and properly, and our Queen shall be the judge 
 as to whether 'tis so done. If she deems any answer insuf- 
 ficient in any manner, then shall she fix the penalty that 
 shall be meted out to the culprit, and it shall be the boundeu 
 duty of all others to see that the penalty is enforced. If 
 any consider them aggrieved by the punishment they receive, 
 they may appeal to our loyal subject, the Baron, who shall 
 pass upon the equity of the Queen's decree." 
 
 The crowd clapped their hands right nimbly, showing 
 that they heeded and approved the monarch's words. When 
 the noise was stilled, the Friar, pointing his finger at Gramud- 
 gin, went on :
 
 THE SEAL OP DE BURLEYVILLE. 97 
 
 " Now, my gentle lass, tell me thy real name." 
 
 "Gramudgin Giles, my Liege," the young woman re- 
 sponded hoarsely. 
 
 " Thy voice is like a rusty weather-cock art thou male 
 or female? " 
 
 " Female, my lord." 
 
 The Friar turned to his queen: "What says our royal 
 partner do the answers suffice? " 
 
 "Nay, nay," the Queen replied, "her voice, her 
 height and her hips do give her the lie. Therefore do I 
 command that the mask and hood be torn from her face." 
 
 The condemned one appealed to the Baron, but her plea 
 was overruled. She then made a furious attempt to dash 
 through the surrounding hedge of players ; but was seized 
 and dragged back. There was a fierce, violent struggle. 
 The ungainly young creature was finally overpowered, thrown 
 down at the feet of the Baron, and the mask and wimple 
 were torn off. 
 
 For a moment those immediately around the prostrate figure 
 stand aghast. Then they back off, and a sudden and ominous 
 silence falls on the company. The Baron looks down. It 
 is young Aylwin Guilforth who lies at his feet. There, 
 embroidered on the now exposed bosom of his tunic are the 
 hated arms and insignia of Guilforth ; and on his neck is a 
 heavy gold chain bearing a seal that is engraved with the 
 crest of the despised house. 
 
 The Baron with a violent motion draws his dagger half 
 from its sheath, and then clutches its handle, squeezing it 
 spasmodically till the great nails on his fingers flush red and 
 purple.
 
 98 STUBS OF TIME. 
 
 Back, back still further the mummers go till they stop 
 in a quadrangle next the walls, many of them trembling 
 beneath their masks and gowns. The chief page Poynes 
 remains standing solitary before the Baron. He seems so 
 overcome with fright as to lose all power of movement. His 
 knees shake so that the jingles on the tamborine he carried 
 rattle metallically. 
 
 But the Baron does not notice him. His fierce blue eyes, 
 black now with rage, stare into the face of Sir Aylwin. 
 
 That unfortunate youth rises slowly and stands before the 
 Baron, pale but unflinching. His lips, usually so full and 
 red and ever ready to smile, are now compressed and firm. 
 His dark hair has become dishevelled by the scuffle and is 
 thrown about his head in wanton picturesqueness. His big 
 dark eyes unwinkingty return the Baron's terrible glare. 
 A light seems to be kindling in them a gleam, fierce and 
 subtle, reflected perhaps from his soul. It envelops the 
 accustomed softness of his eyes, and shines cold and 
 intrepid like the reflection of blue steel on a frosty morn. 
 
 The Baron breaks forth his voice hoarse and broken 
 with rage : 
 
 " Dog of a spy ! sneaking spew of a cur ! how dares* 
 thou ? How darest thou to thus make the sacred festivities a 
 covert for thy base villainies ? God ! and 'twere not the holy 
 time, I'd cleave thee as thou staudest. Thou art a worthy 
 scion of thy dishonored line, thou cursed asp. To think that 
 thou hast drunk and eaten in mine house ! My knife doth so 
 famish for thy blood, 'twere not a marvel if of its own accord 
 it leapt from its sheath and slacked its thirst at the foul 
 fountains of thy heart. And drink it shall, too, my pretty
 
 THE SEAL OF DE BURLEYVILLE. 99 
 
 one ha, ha, when the time is ripe ; but I'll forbear me 
 now, and abide the fitting hour, while each passing day 
 shall see my passion for thy blood grow and swell to frenzy. 
 I will spare thee till the holy days are gone. It were a crime 
 against high Heaven to spill the vile fluid of thy veins 
 during Christmas, and so taint the pure air of the gracious 
 time. 
 
 " Meantime I'll not rebuke thee more. Thrice welcome 
 thou art, my Christmas gift. By the Rood, I am a-favored 
 of St. Nicholas ! that he bringest me so rich a boon. For 
 such have I prayed and done much penance." 
 
 The Baron laughed sardonically. He called his guards- 
 men and had them put young Guilforth in the deepest of 
 his dungeons and secured with the strongest of shackles. 
 He then turned his attention to the page Poynes, who had 
 sunk on the floor. 
 
 " That boy," he said, addressing some of his attendants, 
 " lies in a drunken fit. Unmask him, wake him up and 
 bring him before our Lord, the Friar, that he may receive 
 word of admonition and deserved reprimand. If he must 
 needs sleep off his ale, let him to bed. We cannot have our 
 presence a dormitory for sots." 
 
 The attendants went and shook the page ; they pulled 
 him up and brought him before the throne, where they took 
 off his mask. 
 
 The crowd fell back again and the Baron sprang to his 
 feet. "Now, may Heaven save my soul! " he exclaimed, 
 with what little breath was left him, as he beheld the face 
 of his daughter Brilliana. 
 
 She stood there unsteadily before them all, white and
 
 100 STUBS OF TIME. 
 
 half swooning. Tears had started into her eyes, but their 
 flow was arrested by terror, and they got no further than 
 her lashes and lids, where they now hung heavily and 
 sparkled in the light of the torches and candles. Palely 
 beautiful, she hung her head and seemed as a rare and 
 delicate flower when it feels a sudden descent of an Arctic 
 blast. They all understood now the grace of the page, 
 the soft roundness of his limbs, and the exquisite witchery 
 of his form and movement. Even above her terror, the 
 modesty and shame of the lady because of her costume 
 could easily be discerned. And so it was that her male 
 attire did not lessen one whit her beauty, but rather made 
 it greater; for there was no boldness about her at all, and 
 the tragedy of her dilemma and the martyrdom of her 
 aspect made each beholder feel like the unfortunate Actseon 
 when he unwittingly walked into the grotto of the bathing 
 Dian. 
 
 The Baron waved his hand and ordered every one to leave 
 the hall. When they were all gone, he took Brilliana's 
 hand and sat her beside him. 
 
 "Daughter, cease thy trembling, and tell me what this 
 means. Did I not see thee kiss that Guilforth dog? " 
 
 " Yes, my sire." 
 
 " Didst thou know 'twas he? " 
 
 " Ay, my Lord." 
 
 The Baron seized her by the arm and looked into her 
 eyes. His other hand grasped the hilt of his dagger. 
 
 " What sayest thou, damsel? " he hissed, " Did I hear 
 aright?" 
 
 A deep color had come into the girl's cheeks, and her
 
 THE SEAL OF DE BURLEYVILLE . 101 
 
 eyes flashed as she answered: " You did, my Lord: I love 
 young Aylwin Guilforth." 
 
 The Baron whipped out his dagger and flung it violently 
 into the fireplace at the far end of the hall. It struck into 
 the Yule log, and quivered, throwing off showers of little 
 sparks. 
 
 " Tempt me not," said the angry peer, springing from 
 his daughter's side, "I have a temper of wild lions 
 thou art my very soul, yet in the rage of duty, I could 
 carve thee as a capon." 
 
 He seized a horn and blew a blast. In a moment several 
 men-at-arms entered. He pointed to his daughter ; "Take 
 her to the topmost tower double lock the door, and bring 
 me the key. Damnation is abroad. The devil is loose. 
 Treason and treachery are hatched in my very house ! "
 
 102 STUBS OF TIME. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 <l Though mountains meet not, lovers may; 
 What other lovers do, did they; 
 The God of Love sate on a tree, 
 And laught that pleasant sight to see." 
 
 Cupid's Pastime. 
 
 Alone in her prison turret-room the sad Lady Brilliana sat 
 and brooded through the long hours of Christmas Day's 
 forenoon. It was a southern tower of the castle, and 
 towards midday the sun peeped bright and cheery through 
 the windows, adding much to the comfort of the chamber ; 
 for the turf in the brazier had been smouldering so lazily 
 that the frosty outside air made bold to enter. 
 
 Once the lady arose from her couch, took the poker, 
 stirred the fire coals, and then settled herself in the window- 
 seat. Sad, dreamy and half-tearful were the big blue eyes 
 that gazed from the latticed window over the snowy heaths 
 and hills of Kent. The sunlight poured in through the 
 casement and glittered on the effulgent splendor of her hair. 
 Some color had left her cheeks since yesternight, and the 
 mouth of maddening mischievous smiles was more tristful. 
 Her dimples those whirlpools of love and beauty in which 
 Cupid himself seemed to gyrate, and infect all who looked on 
 him with his contagious giddiness, reposed now in un- 
 usual abeyance. In the twinkling of an eye the troubles of 
 first young love had smitten the maiden, and with the 
 miracle of conscious womanhood, had wrought other trans-
 
 THRUST ITS HILT INTO THE COALS.
 
 THE SEAL OF DE BURLEYVILLE. 103 
 
 formations in her. A world of seriousness, tender and 
 sweet, now lay in her expression, and in her wistful eyes 
 were wonderful shades and depths of meaning never there 
 before. 
 
 She took out her lover's ring, warm from contact with 
 her bosom, and looked at it long and tenderly, then raised 
 it to her lips and kissed it repeatedly. 
 
 Sighing, she again raised her eyes and looked across the 
 moorland, pensive and melancholy. Towards the end of 
 the heath she saw the purple lines of the hawthorne and 
 briar hedges stretching across the fields like frayed ribbons 
 marking the allotments of the tenants ; the straw-thatched 
 dovecote with the bustling pigeons on the roof, ruffling 
 their feathers and quarreling as they sunned themselves ; and 
 just in the courtyard was a platform on which were the 
 pillory, the cucking-stool, and stocks. All these things she 
 saw as one in a dream, but thought not of them. 
 
 Earlier in the morning her father had visited her, and she 
 had begged him to spare her lover's life, telling him the 
 story of their meeting and of the birth of their love. " By 
 the Sepulchre! I tell thee, he shall die," the Baron replied 
 angrily; "The morn after Twelfth Night he shall die. 
 Wouldst thou have me false to mine vows and honor? He 
 shall die, child, he shall surely die. I will do my duty 
 though the sun be snuffed out like a candle and the stars 
 drop hissing into the sea. Thou kuowest thou art the only 
 fountain in the desert of my life ; the only flame that flickers 
 on the cold hearth of my heart ; the one cherished flower 
 that has rooted itself in the rocky confines of my soul. Yet 
 I place allegiance to my honor and oaths even above my love
 
 104 STUBS OF TIME. 
 
 for thee. Do not persist in thy foolishness lest thou anger 
 me to rash things. Thou art possessed of a devil. Pray 
 God to deliver thee from the evil spirit which incites in thy 
 heart this passion for a cursed Guilforth." 
 
 He then told her that Mother Critch would have access 
 to her room, and would bring her bodily sustenance ; and 
 with a parting admonishment to discretion and steadfast 
 prayer, he had left her. 
 
 " Hi-ho, my sweet, why so sorrowful? " said a merry 
 voice suddenly breaking in on the Lady Brilliana's reverie. 
 She looked in the direction whence the voice came, and saw 
 a long nose and merry eye peeping through the draperies 
 that hung over the door. " One would think thou wert the 
 only maid who had ever loved, ha, ha! Not so wofulty, my 
 chuck, not so wofully." 
 
 The tapestries parted, and Mother Critch, bearing a 
 trencher on which were wine, oaten cakes and capon, 
 entered the room. Placing the tray on the window-seat, 
 she went to the brazier and jostled the coals vigorously. 
 
 " By the Dun Cow of Dunsmere! " she exclaimed, " 'tis 
 cold quarters you keep for hot young love. Knowest thou 
 not, he is but a naked boy without hood or mantle and is 
 like to freeze ? ' ' 
 
 " Nay, Mother Critch, he may die, but never freeze. I 
 will keep him in my warm red heart." 
 
 " Thou hast none, my Lady thou hast no heart. No 
 maid with a heart ever gazed out of a window so dreamily 
 as I saw thee doing but now. Fie ! fie ! Mother Critch is 
 no fool. She was young once too, and had eyes that saw
 
 THE SEAL OF DE BURLEYVILLE. 105 
 
 not and ears that heard not. Your Ladyship must drink 
 the wine and keep the blood in thy cheeks." 
 
 " To what purpose, Mother Critch? " 
 
 ' ' Forsooth ! kisses ; to what other purpose should a 
 girl's cheeks be kept rosy and dimpled? Kisses lovers' 
 kisses you would not have your champion kiss a mere 
 ghost?" 
 
 The Lady Brilliana made no reply, but only sighed and 
 looked out of the window again. The old woman came and 
 stood before her, a sudden tenderness softening the hard 
 lines of her face. 
 
 Brilliana turned and regarded her with a pitiful little 
 smile. " Drink," said the crone, pointing to the cup of 
 wine. The girl did as she was bidden. Mother Critch then 
 took her hand. 
 
 "My child," she said, "you were suckled at this 
 breast the only girl babe that ever was ; when you were 
 a child it was your place of refuge and comfort in time of 
 trouble ; you laid your head there and spoke your sorrows 
 in mine ear. You are a child again now, and the old place, 
 the old comfort is here." 
 
 She paused as she saw by the trembling of the maiden's 
 lips that the storm of anguish was about to break. In 
 another moment the girl had thrown her arms around the 
 old woman's neck and was weeping on her breast. Mother 
 Critch mumbled some words of solace ; and in a little while 
 the Lady Brilliana was smiling and cheerily relating every 
 incident of her brief amour. 
 
 Mother Critch tarried long, and the two held a lengthy 
 consultation in low tones. As she left she put her skinny
 
 106 STUBS OF TIME. 
 
 finger on her mouth, and nodded gravely wisely. 
 Already she saw that a new light had come upon the Lady 
 Brilliana's face ; that there were bright tears of joy in her 
 eyes ; and that those eyes now shone as two stars of hope. 
 The kindly old soul shed a hard tear herself as she locked 
 the doors and went on her way. 
 
 That night after the Lord Aylwin had long been asleep in 
 his dark, damp dungeon, he was awakened by the rattle of 
 the rusty locks of his prison door. He started up thinking 
 that his time had come ; he clutched the crucifix on his 
 breast, and muttered a hasty prayer. 
 
 The door swung open and the glare of a torch flashed in. 
 In the dim smoky light, he saw three figures. The bearer 
 of the light, an armed man, preceded and entered the room ; 
 behind him appeared the shadowy forms of two women. 
 
 " My sweet Lord Aylwin," said a gentle voice. 
 
 The speaker came into the light, and the young Lord 
 beheld the Lady Brilliana. 
 
 She was arrayed all in white, and her hair was loosened 
 and streamed down her shoulders in resplendent floods of 
 scintillating gold. The light glimmered on her pink and 
 white face: excitement, timidity, emotion were all there, 
 and each seemed lending additional charm to her beauty. 
 Clutched to her breast, and holding it with both her small 
 hands, she carried the great sword of de Burleyville. 
 Aylwin thought he dreamed. He put up his hands to his 
 forehead and stared spellbound at what he believed to be a 
 vision. 
 
 " Beauteous angel," he murmured like one in deep sleep 
 might do: "what does it mean? Why comest thou,
 
 THE SEAL OF DE BURLEYVILLE. 107 
 
 lovely apparition, thus to me in mine slumber? Hast thy 
 father slain thee, and thou bringest me his sword wet with 
 thy blood? Speak and expound me the meaning of thy 
 beatific visitation? " 
 
 " Wake up, man, and cease thy drivelling," muttered a 
 cracked voice. And Mother Critch shook the knight by the 
 shoulder, while her burly son, Crowgill, paused and held 
 the torch aloft. "Gather thy wits, quickly we have 
 come to save thee. Here is thy love, greet her like a 
 man and not like a halting, stuttering craven." 
 
 Sir Aylwin needed no further woi'ds. Forgetting all save 
 Brilliana, he sprang up and rushed towards her. He got 
 but a few feet when the chains on his ankles jerked him 
 back, and he tumbled headlong into the girl's arms. Both 
 fell ; and both rose to their knees. 
 
 "Ahem!" said Mother Critch, after a considerable 
 length of time. 
 
 All was still again. 
 
 " Ahem ahem! " she repeated louder. 
 
 Nobody heeded ; but the motionless Crowgill caught her 
 eye, and grinned grimly. 
 
 The old crone grew impatient, "That'll do that'll do, 
 my doves," she scolded, as she turned to a brazier which 
 she had brought in with her, and shook its glowing coals 
 fractiously. " That's long enough, even for hungry young 
 hearts. They'd keep at that till doomsday if we let them. 
 Brilliana, remember there is work to be done otherwhere 
 than in the Seventh Heaven. Turn about. Pick up the 
 sword and heat the seal. Master Aylwin, bare thy shoulder 
 and prepare to come into the de Burleyville fold."
 
 108 STUBS OF TIME. 
 
 Brilliana parted from her lover, picked up the sword and 
 thrust its hilt into the burning coals of the brazier. 
 
 " What does all this mean? " asked Aylwin, surprisedly 
 regarding the strange proceedings. 
 
 " It means that thou must be branded with the seal of de 
 Burleyville if thou wouldst have the faintest hope to keep thy 
 life and win thy bride," answered old Critch. 
 
 ' ' Why that ? Why may we not flee together ? I will 
 take her to our stronghold in the North and defy the 
 Baron." 
 
 " Not while I live," put in Crowgill, closing the door and 
 locking it on the inside. " I will not violate my allegiance 
 to my master by being a party to thy escape 1, who am 
 the trusted gaoler. But I see no breaking of my pledges 
 to faith in suffering a Burleyville to brand thee with the 
 seal." 
 
 " So let it be, then," joyfully consented Sir Aylwin. 
 
 He then proceeded to unfasten his doublet from about 
 his neck, taking out one arm from its sleeve till his firm 
 bare shoulder stood out in the light as white as marble. 
 
 Meantime the Lady Brilliana was heating the sword and 
 looking sorrowful, as she thought of the pain she must needs 
 cause her beloved one. Serious were her eyes, while she 
 watched the seal grow hot. Mother Critch produced a 
 bellows and blew the coals into a roaring ruddy glow. The 
 anxious maiden then saw the hilt grow red as the embers. 
 She looked towards her lover. 
 
 " Art ready, my Heart," she asked. 
 
 " I await thee, my Soul," he answered. 
 
 She took up the sword and held it in both hands, per-
 
 THE SEAL OF DE BURLEYVILLE. 109 
 
 pendicularly, and ran to him. A tear fell from her eye and 
 hit sputtering on the hot iron. One moment she laid the 
 weapon down on the floor while she stooped over, put her 
 arm around her lover's neck, and kissed the spot she was to 
 sear. 
 
 Then she jerked up the blade. There was a hissing, 
 stewing sound a savor of burnt flesh ; and the girl flung 
 down the sword with a clatter.
 
 110 STUBS OF TIME. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Joy, gentle friends, Joy, 
 
 And fresh days of love accompany your hearts." 
 
 Shakespeare. 
 
 The morn succeeding Twelfth Night was dark and gloomy. 
 Great murky snow clouds sprawled heavily over the sky, 
 and intermittent unfriendly winds sang gloomily across the 
 moors, or howled depressingly around human habitations. 
 The smoke came cowering from the chimneys, wavered an 
 instant, and then, caught in the bold arms of the ravishing 
 blast, it was torn asunder and whirled hither and thither 
 in attenuous and ever-lessening wraiths of blue and brown. 
 
 The Baron arose early and with a merry heart. He sang 
 a bloodthirsty old war song as he dressed himself in his 
 finest raiment ; he breakfasted most heartily, and then sat 
 him down to await the hour of noon, which he had set for 
 the execution. 
 
 " Ha, ha," he chuckled, in his heart's depth, "this 
 day sees the fulfilment of my dearest wish ; it means the 
 final triumph of de Burleyville and the ultimate extinction 
 of the race of Guilforth dogs. The caitiff that I kill 
 to-day is the last scion of the house, and his death will mean 
 his father's also." 
 
 Thus meditating, it presently occurred to the nobleman 
 that there was a strong probability of the parent Guilforth 
 making a speedy and desperate attempt to save his son. 
 In fact rumors to that effect had not been lacking, and he
 
 THE SEAL OF DE BURLEYVILLE. Ill 
 
 had heard that battering rams and other infernal engines 
 were making in the Guilforth premises. Now that the 
 sacred days were over, he doubted not that an attack might 
 be made at any moment. 
 
 Therefore, the uncertainty of all mundane things being 
 considered, he thought it best to have the prisoner beheaded 
 at once, and not delay the matter an unnecessary instant. 
 
 He summoned the faithful Crowgill, and bade him bring 
 out the captive and proceed at once with the execution ; 
 that the friends he- had invited to witness it at noon would 
 no doubt be disappointed, but they could hold a high feast 
 and carnival with him anyhow, and view with pleasure the 
 head and limbs of the victim on the high points of his castle. 
 
 While Crowgill went to fetch the doomed one, the Baron 
 ascended to his daughter's room. Arm-in-arm with her he 
 purposed witnessing the death. 
 
 " Come forth, my sweet," he said to her, in blithe glad 
 tones, " the hour of divine judgment and justice is here. 
 With me thou must now behold the triumph and exaltation 
 of our blood. The falling of the wretch's head shall also 
 mean the end of thy imprisonment." 
 
 The Lady Brilliana, though serious, bore herself with 
 becoming fortitude. This did not escape the Baron, who 
 observed ; ' ' Right thankful am I to see the good effects of 
 thy praj-ers, that thou bearest thyself so bravely. I doubt 
 not the devil of thy insane love has been cast out. I paid 
 the good Friar Snicke ten marks to pray for thee, and bade 
 him exert his powers in exorcising the demon." 
 
 The Lady Brilliana smiled weakly, but said nothing.
 
 112 STUBS OF TIME. 
 
 Leaning on her father's arm, she descended the winding 
 stair of the tower and went forth into the courtyard. 
 
 The news had spread like wildfire that the execution 
 would be expedited. Already the enclosure was filled with 
 the retainers of the estate, both male and female. There 
 were also many others from the vicinage, who had come 
 early for purposes of idle curiosity. 
 
 Around the execution block, the sight-seers stood thick 
 and expectant all with different emotions showing in 
 their faces. Some had eagerness of blood in their eye ; 
 others looked a trifle fearful. Unfeeling little urchins 
 plowed their way to the front ranks, gibbering and jesting, 
 and making prophecies concerning the details of the coming 
 event. Old warriors, stolid and stoical, stood grimly by, 
 silent and immobile. Shrivelled and watery-eyed old 
 women, their wizened features half concealed in tattered 
 mufflers, shuffled around, chattering and croaking. Young 
 girls hung together in groups, now talking in low voices, 
 now tittering, and sometimes breaking out in high trebles 
 of mirth. 
 
 At last there was a commotion in that part of the crowd 
 next to the castle door. Men and women were pushed 
 aside, stern voices spoke in low tones. The crowd wavered 
 and opened. Eight soldiers came marching into the arena. 
 In their midst walked Sir Aylwin, Friar Snicke, and Crow- 
 gill, the executioner. The young Lord's hands were 
 securely bound, but he carried a high proud head, and his 
 eye was clear, fearless and masterful as an eagle's. Friar 
 Snicke, heavily loaded with rosaries and a great Bible, walked 
 by his side and mumbled words of comfort and encourage-
 
 THE SEAL OF DE BURLEYVILLE. 113 
 
 ment in his ear. Crowgill followed, carrying a heavy keen- 
 edged broadaxe. 
 
 The Baron raised his hand and made the crowd stand 
 back. Then he led the Lady Brilliana close to the block, 
 where the two took their stand as the captive was brought 
 up and the guardsmen stationed themselves roundabout. 
 
 Crowgill took some hasty low-toned orders from the Baron. 
 He caused the unresisting prisoner to kneel before the block, 
 and commenced to unlace the doublet from his neck in order 
 that his axe might have unimpeded sweep. In these final 
 offices, the Friar assisted, still muttering words of sustain- 
 ing hope and cheer. They pulled the garment down from 
 the young knight's neck. 
 
 Lady Brilliana bent forward and watched their every 
 movement. Her lips were parted ; her eyes strained and 
 intense. 
 
 Further still, Crowgill slipped the garment, till the left 
 shoulder of Sir Aylwin was exposed. And there on his fair 
 skin, like rubies inlaid in marble, appeared the seal of de 
 Burleyville. 
 
 Brilliana saw it, and clutched her hands in a full-souled 
 prayer of thanks to Heaven. 
 
 The Baron saw it not. 
 
 " Strike ! " he thundered. " Why that dalliance? " 
 
 " My Lord, " began Crowgill. 
 
 " Strike," commanded the Baron, not hearing him. 
 
 The man still demurred. The Friar, having recovered a 
 little breath, approached the Baron and pointed to Aylwin'.s 
 shoulder. 
 
 The peer, now thoroughly enraged at the dela\ . saw 
 
 8
 
 114 STUBS OF TIME. 
 
 nothing and heard nothing. He sprang forward, snatched 
 the axe from the headsman's hands, and before any could 
 stop him, swung it aloft over the captive's head, and 
 brought it down with a furious stroke. 
 
 Simultaneously a great noise arose outside the walls, and 
 a thick shower of arrows fell among the people. Another 
 moment, and the gates were battered down, while with a 
 great shout the forces of Gruilforth swarmed in. 
 
 The Baron de Burleyville was standing motionless over 
 the body of his victim, on whom he now beheld the seal. 
 The axe dropped from his nerveless fingers ; he placed his 
 hand on his heart, and with a face white as death, he 
 turned to his daughter. 
 
 Struggling to reach the body of her lover, she staggered 
 by her father. An arrow, which Heaven in its mercy had 
 guided, protruded from her breast. She reached her lover's 
 body and fell gently over.
 
 1 HIT'S JE3 LIKE I TELL YOU."
 
 UNCLE BILLY'S ADVICE. 115 
 
 UNCLE BILLY'S ADVICE. 
 
 Major Owen had gone to pay his devoirs to the widow 
 Weatherford, and Aunt Sally and Uncle Billy were in his 
 kitchen, discussing, like every one else just then, the rela- 
 tions existing between the widow and the Major. Every 
 one was anxious for the match, and did all they could to 
 bring it about. The Major was a prosperous bachelor of 
 fifty the widow, like most widows, was of uncertain age, 
 but fresh-looking and spry. She was evidently on the 
 carpet again, and the Major had little competition, as beaux 
 were scarce in the neighborhood. 
 
 Yet no one could see how it would ever come to pass ; for 
 their natures were diametrically opposed. Sentiment was 
 the dominant element in Mrs. Weatherford, while the Major 
 was all prose and utilitarianism. He had never been known 
 to evince the smallest spark of sentiment. The widow was 
 fond of poetry, painting, nature, and romance ; the Major 
 never seemed to have a thought for anything but the prosy 
 details of agriculture, stock-raising, and such practical 
 matter-of-fact things. 
 
 " Yas," Uncle Billy was saying, "I wants to see um 
 merried I likes um bofe de Majer is my Boss, an' I 
 wants 'im ter git er good wife." 
 
 "Yas," answered Aunt Sally, " I wish dey'd git mer-
 
 116 STUBS OF TIME. 
 
 ried, too: dey's mighty well suited to one an'er in some 
 ways. De Majer he's well-to-do an' wants er wife, an' 
 Miss Helen she's good lookin' an' wants er husband : hit 
 looks like dey ought to come togedder ; but I feard dey is 
 gwi' hang fire. Dey don't seem to coperate, somehow 
 hit looks like dere cunst'utions is difunt." 
 
 " Naw, Sis Sally, I don' see how dey is ever gwineter be 
 brought tergedder," Unele Billy continued, " dey don't 
 seem to be leastwise kumpatibil : dere tempertures don't 
 seem to be er tall harmonical. 
 
 " When I drove urn f'om chuch las', Sunday, dey was 
 bofe settin' tergedder on de back seat uv de kerddge, an' I 
 could hear mighty plain every word dey say, an' I see den 
 how matters was. Miss Helen she try to talk 'bout books 
 an' po'try an' flowers an' sech things, an' de Majer he turn 
 'er off on 'tatoes an' pigs an' peas an' sech like. 
 
 "We passed er patch uv clover in full bloom, an' Miss 
 Helen say ' O what beautiful clover ! how sweet an' 
 fragrint it is! isn't it lovely Majer? What is it dat de 
 poet says 'bout de bees on de clover? ' 
 
 " Den de Major he kinder grunt an' 'spon' back an' says 
 he don ? know what no poet says 'bout it, but he know dat 
 clover is ripe an' ought ter be cut. Den he goes on an' 
 tells 'er 'bout his 'sperience wid clover 'bout how it gin 
 de slobbers to his fine mare 'cause he fed it to her las' year 
 when 'twas in bloom. He talked clover an' he talked 
 clover: he talked 'bout clover wet, an' he talk 'bout clover 
 dry; 'bout good clover an' po' clover; 'bout his clover 
 an' all de' neighbor's clover. He talk clover till G-awd 
 knows hit mos' put even me to sleep. Miss Helen she
 
 UNCLE BILLY'S ADVICE. 117 
 
 sot dere endurin' uv it like savin' ' yas ' an' ' no ' in er 
 kinder fur-away viece. 
 
 " Arter while when he git thu wid clover, he started on 
 timothy an' millet, an' he come on down thu oats an' rye 
 on thu corn an' wheat till he hit on wire-grass. I lay back 
 den 'ginst de side uv de kerridge to take er nap, 'cause I 
 knowed wire-grass was his fav'rite subjic'. Yas Lawd, I 
 knowd when he got on wire-grass couldin nothin' less dan 
 de smash up an' tu'n over uv de kerridge stop 'im ; so I 
 lay back an' let 'im rip. 'Twas er warm day an' we had 
 right smart ways to go : de hosses was gwine slow, an' I 
 dozed an' nodded clean till dey stopped at de front gate an' 
 I tumbled off de seat. I picked myself up an' jumped out 
 to open de gate. De Majer was still talkin' wire-grass. 
 Miss Helen looked kinder faint like she jes come thu er 
 spell o' sickness, but de Majer kep' ginnin' er wire-grass 
 nothin' but wire-grass. Lawd ! he gin dat 'oman wire- 
 grass 'nough to kill 'er. How kin er man 'spec' er 'oman 
 to have 'im when he do like dat? If he jes' hader gin 'er a 
 little v'ri'ty if he jes' hader throwed in er little pusly, 
 or sheepmint, or peppergrass, it wouldner been ha'f as bad. 
 Po' Miss Helen, she urns' dreamed 'bout wire-grass dat 
 night sho." 
 
 " Well," said Aunt Sally, " I can't see what she want 
 to go wid Mm fur if dat way he do 'er. If Jim Thomas 
 hadn't talk ter me 'bout suppin' 'sides wire-grass he never 
 woulder merried me naw my Gawd! " 
 
 " En if he was to start it now you'd mighty soon be er 
 grass widow, wouldn't you? " asked Uncle Billy, grinning 
 at his own facetiousness, which Aunt Sally, however, took 
 seriously.
 
 118 STUBS OF TIME. 
 
 " I'd mighty soon break 'im uv it," she fired back, her 
 anger rising at the mere thought of such a thing. 
 
 " Well, to tell the trufe," continued Uncle Billy, I b'lieve 
 Miss Helen likes de Majer toFble well. I don' see how she 
 kin he sech er tiresome puson but she mus', or she 
 wouldn't keep gwine wid 'im so. De Majer is a fine man 
 in his way but Lawd, his way! I don' see how she kin 
 ever git up de courage to merry 'im 'cepin' she think she 
 won't have to be so perlite to 'im after she got 'im, an' kin 
 tell 'im what she think uv some uv his doins', an' an' break 
 'im uv his bad habits. Wimmin is mighty curious if 
 dey likes er man tol'ble well, dey'll put up wid er heap f 'om 
 'im 'fo' dey is merried, an' den merry 'im on de faith uv 
 breakin' 'im in arterwards." 
 
 " Dat's er mighty risky bis'uess, doh," put in Aunt 
 Sally, " an' hit takes er strong-minded 'oman to do dat 
 way. I's broke Jim Thomas uv one or two bad habits 
 since we's been married, but for de mos' part I purged 'im 
 'fo' I ever toP 'im I'd take 'im. He had er bad habit uv 
 chewin' terbacco an' spittin' in comp'ny, an' I tol' 'im up 
 an' down if I ever see 'im do dat ergin he never would call 
 me his wife. He stopped mighty quick, I tell yer ; but 
 after we was merried he thought he could start it ergin, as 
 he had me den, an' spittiu' husband's wa' no ground fur er 
 'vorce. But Lawd ! he didn't keep it up long. I had 
 'im too, an' I knowed dat er wife was a priv'lige charicter, 
 an' could use de broomstick, while er sweetheart had to 
 'fine 'erse'f to threats. 
 
 " But it takes er strong-minded 'oman like I is to do dat : 
 wife's broomstick is stronger 'suasion dan sweetheart's
 
 UNCLE BILLY'S ADVICE. 119 
 
 threats, but it ain't every 'oman whar kin use it. Miss 
 Helen better be keerful, if she ever 'spec' to merry de 
 Majer, how she trus' to de broomstick : she better break 'im 
 in 'fo' she merry 'im ; he mought be stronger-minded dan 
 she is, an' wouldn't take kindly to de broom handle." 
 
 "Well," said Uncle Billy after a pause, "I 'spec' you 
 is right 'bout dat Miss Helen better break 'im in 'fo' 
 she take 'im, but I don' see how she gwi' do it. Dis 
 breakin' in bus'ness ain't no easy job nohow, an' you know 
 de Majer is er pow'ful sensitive man wid er mighty high 
 'pinion uv hisse'f ; an' Miss Helen know as well as I does, 
 dat if she ever gits arter 'im 'bout anything, he gwi' git 
 'fended an' hurt, an' ten to one by de debil's clock if he 
 ever notice 'er agin. De Majer ain't got no idea how folks 
 laughs at his 'culiarities he ain't got no kith an' kin to 
 tell 'im 'bout it, an' yuther folks don' like to do it ; cons'- 
 quiutly he goes on an' gits mo' and mo' curious an' sot in 
 his ways. If he jes' had somebody to 'vise 'im how to do 
 an' how to court, he might come out all right. Ev'body 
 kin see he's dead took wid Miss Helen ; but gwine on as 
 he does, talkin' pigs, an' grass, an' fresh meat, an' cab- 
 bages, I don' see how he ever gwi' win 'er. He thinks cause 
 he takes 'er intrust in sech things dat ev'body else does, too. 
 If he would jes' talk 'bout flowers stido' grass, an' de moon 
 stid o' cabbages, an' de stars stido' guano; if he'd jes' 
 tell 'er 'bout pictures an' poets an' sech sentermints 
 followin' de track uv sech subjic's till he git to love, an' 
 den grab 'er 'round de waist an' tell 'er how he love 'er 
 he mought do suppin. But gwine on like he is now 
 shoo! he never will git 'er 'cept she do de courtin'."
 
 120 STUBS OF TIME. 
 
 There was silence for some time. Uncle Billy puffed 
 meditatively at his pipe, and gazed abstractedly into the 
 fire. Presently he arose and went and knocked the ashes 
 out of his pipe against the andiron. 
 
 " Tell you what I gwi' do, Sis Sally," he said with the 
 deliberate dignity and pride of one who had solved a great 
 problem, "tell you what I gwi' do 1 gwi' 'vise de 
 Majer." 
 
 "Lawd o' mercy!" exclaimed Annt Sally, " what 
 you talkin' 'bout man ! you gwi' 'vise de Majer? what 
 you gwi' 'vise 'im to do? you's colored de Majer is er 
 high-tone white man what you talkin' 'bout visin' 'im 
 fur?" 
 
 " Don't keer if he is," replied Uncle Billy deter- 
 minedly "I know some things you don' know, an' you 
 know some things I don' know, an' er grasshopper know 
 some things bofe un us don' know. Dere's heap o' difunt 
 kinds o' wisdoms in dis worP, an' er man knows dat bes' 
 whar he done had 'sperience wid. 'Cause er man is white, 
 an' got book-larnin' it don't follow dat he knows everything. 
 Dere's heap o' larnin whar ain't in no book I knows dat 
 if I is ignunt. Er man can't know hisse'f by readin' uv 
 books, an' he can't know wimmin folks. Now de Majer don' 
 know hisse'f, an' he don' know wimmin folks. I knows de 
 Majer, an' I ought to know suppiu 'bout wimmin folks, 
 bein' I's had three wifes. Now I ax you what gwi' hen' 
 me f'om givin' de Majer er few pints on dern subjic's? " 
 
 " You talk like you know mighty lot 'bout us wimmin 
 folks," said Aunt Sally, " huccum you to know so 
 much?"
 
 UNCLE BILLY'S ADVICE. 121 
 
 " It's jes' like I tell you," continued Uncle Billy, ignor- 
 ing her question, " it's jes' like I tell you de Majer 
 don' know his own pus'nal 'culiarities, an' he don' know 
 how to handle wimmin folks how to please 'um an' court 
 'um. Er man is got to lay 'side all pus'nal curiousness 
 when he 'dresses er 'omaii, an' he got to 'dapt hisse'f to 
 her way uv thinkin'. I gwi' try in er perlite an' sorter 
 off-han' way to see if I can't open de Majer's eyes on dose 
 pints. 
 
 " You see er bach'ler-man likede Majer is apt to be curi- 
 ous an' sot in his ways he don' hab no wife to knock off 
 de rough aidges wid her tongue an' de broom-stick ; an' it's 
 puffectly natchul dat er bach'ler-man don' know as much 
 'bout wimmin as er merried man. Er merried man is in 
 cunstunt contac' wid er 'oman, an' he larns all de ins and 
 outs uv dat 'omaii any way. He knows what'll rile 'er, an' 
 he knows what'll please 'er mighty soon, I tell you. Dar 
 ain't nothin' like er strong-minded wife fur gittin' er man 
 out uv his pus'nal cur'osities. 
 
 " All wimmin is difuut, an' all is curious, but if you 
 know one un 'em well, it'll he'p you mighty in yo' dealin's 
 wid de yuthers. Dey is all difunt, an' yit dey is all like. 
 Bar's cert'in gin'ral princ'ples whar 'plies to 'em all. If 
 you got er wife you larns dem gin'ral princ'ples mighty 
 soon, an' den you is pretty well qualyfied to deal wid 
 wimmin. Ev'body knows dat er widow-man is er heap 
 better an' mo' 'cessful courter dan er man whar ain't never 
 been merried. 
 
 " Yas, I gwi' give de Majer some pints I gwi' tell 'im 
 er trick or two dat I is."
 
 122 STUBS OF TIME. 
 
 " You kin do like you please," said Aunt Sally, " I 
 don't keer I ain't got to bear de 'spons'bil'ty ; but you 
 better be keerful." 
 
 Uncle Billy got up and walked to the door. " You jes' 
 wait," he said, and went out. 
 
 Major Owen did not get back from the widow Weather- 
 ford's that night until eleven o'clock, and then he seemed to 
 be in a very bad humor indeed. With something that 
 sounded very like an oath he called Uncle Billy out to take 
 the horse, and then without another word went into the 
 house and slammed the door. Uncle Billy, as he passed 
 the window with the horse, saw him through the half closed 
 shutters, pacing the floor up and down. 
 
 " Suppin wrong wid de Majer, sho-pop," he said to him- 
 self, ' ' reggin he gin'er ernother dose uv wire-grass dis 
 evenin' an' she couldn't hoi' herse'f in no longer, but 
 kicked out de traces an' scattered things." 
 
 The next day was Sunday. Uncle Billy, as usual, came 
 to the door while the Major was at breakfast. " 'Spose you 
 want de kerridge hook up to take de widow to chuch to- 
 day? " he inquired. 
 
 "No, I don't," said the Major gruffly, " but you can 
 hitch the buggy, and drive me to church." A little later 
 the buggy was brought, and they started. 
 
 " Seem like you was ailin' las' night, Major," said Uncle 
 Billy, after they had proceeded some distance in silence, 
 " mus' had de toothache." 
 
 " No, no, Billy," the Major ripped out as though he was 
 glad to open the flood-gates of his suppressed troubles at 
 last, " no, but she has kicked me good and square
 
 UNCLE BILLY'S ADVICE. 123 
 
 kicked me, I say, kicked me so hard I haven't been clear- 
 headed since. I can't realize it, Billy, I can hardly take 
 it in I thought she would jump at me. But she refused 
 me in the most humiliating way. By Jove ! I never have 
 loved her as I do now ; but it's all over." 
 
 And the Major leaned forward with his face in his hands, 
 and uttered a groan. Whatever sentiment he had in his 
 nature had certainly come to the front at last. There was 
 silence for a time ; and then Uncle Billy spoke with great 
 gravity : 
 
 " Majer, lemtne ax you a question, how did you 
 'proach 'er how did you pop de question an' come to de 
 pint?" 
 
 "Well, Billy," Major Owen replied in a disconsolate voice, 
 " I thought I'd interest and impress her with a sense of 
 my worthiness and prosperity, so I started in and told her of 
 my farm, fruit, garden, crops, and horses and pigs: I told 
 her about the fine suit of clothes I had on asked her to 
 feel what good quality they were, and told her how much they 
 cost. Finally I came right out and asked her to fix the day 
 for our wedding ; that I liked her as well as any woman I 
 had ever seen, and I believed I would like to marry her. 
 Then I reached out and put my arm around her, and tried 
 to kiss her, when Great Jupiter ! if a bombshell had gone 
 off under the sofa I couldn't have been more surprised." 
 
 " What happened den, Majer? " Uncle Billy asked in a 
 soft, sympathetic voice. 
 
 " I hardly know what happened, Billy, but I know she 
 jerked her head away, and gave me a look, and I saw some- 
 thing like lightning shoot from her eyes. Bless my soul if
 
 124 STUBS OF TIME. 
 
 I don't believe it was lightning, too, from the effect it had 
 on me. It seemed to shrivel me right up it just seemed 
 to blast my very soul. I felt like the most miserable wretch 
 in the world like a criminal about to be hung. It was 
 some time before I recovered myself, and in the meantime I 
 must have been staring at her like an idiot. I remember 
 she returned my look, but said nothing, and the lightning 
 kept flashing from those eyes. After a while I managed 
 to stutter : ' What's what's the matter, Helen? ' 
 
 " ' Don't call me Helen, Sir! ' she said, and the words 
 came out like the spit of an angry cat, l You are very 
 offensive to me please leave the house.' 
 
 " And I got up and left, and was glad to get out too: 
 the fire and brimstone in that room was too much for me." 
 
 The Major ceased talking. Uncle Billy seemed to be 
 deeply preoccupied in guiding the horses around a big mud 
 hole. Having accomplished this, he sat immovable for 
 several moments, in deep thought, his eyes fixed on the 
 ground. At length he spoke as though to himself, in a soft 
 voice, scarcely audible, but full of suppressed feeling: 
 
 " Je-e-sus de Lam' uv Gawd! " 
 
 " Well, what's the matter, Billy? " the Major inquired, 
 paying no attention to the profanity of the interjection ; for 
 it was a customary one with Uncle Billy, who probably 
 through unconscious wrong-doing used it as sinlessly as it 
 could be used. 
 
 " Whew-ee! " Billy whistled, " Gawd A'mighty, Majer, 
 didn't you know no better dan dat? Don't you know 
 wirnmin folks better dan dat? How you spec de 'oman to 
 have you when you ax 'er like you was doin' 'er de greatest
 
 UNCLE BILLY'S ADVICE. 125 
 
 favor in de worP like you was low'in' yose'f to ax 'er? 
 Difunt winimin is got to be won in difunt ways, but you 
 ain't gwine to get no 'oman like dat. 
 
 ' ' Now er man in er pit kin see some things whar er man on 
 de mount'in can't see: de ant he know one or two things 
 whar de elephint ain't never thought 'bout ; an' er ole fool 
 mought have found out er trick or two whar de young 
 smart man ain' never dream uv. Now you is high, an' I 
 is low: you is got edgycation, an' I ain't got none; yit 
 howsomever, dyah mought be er little I knows an' you don' 
 know." 
 
 He paused as though to give time to these sage observa- 
 tions to take effect, and then continued : 
 
 " Majer, I's er heap older man than you, I's been er 
 kuowin' you ever since you was knee high to a duck. I 
 been tote you on my back, an' been think all de woii' uv 
 you my whole life. Now, s'pose I take de lib'ty uv 'visin' 
 you er little what you gwi' think uv me? " 
 
 " Go ahead, Billy, I feel like a baby could advise me this 
 morning," the Major said humbly. 
 
 " I's glad to hear you talk like dat, Majer, she done 
 you good already ain't never hear you talk so humble 
 befo'. 
 
 ".You see, Majer, it's jes' dis way ; you been er bach'ler- 
 man all yo' life, an' you done got proud an' cunceited and 
 sot in yo' ways, an' you don' know how to wuk wimmin folks. 
 Er man can't court er 'oman 'cordin' to his ideas he got 
 to court 'em 'cordin' to dere ideas if he spec to git urn. 
 Some wimmin has to be won wid humbleness ; some wid 
 bol'ness an' masterfulness ; an' yuthers you have to play
 
 126 STUBS OF TIME. 
 
 like er fish, 'vancin' when dey 'vance, an' retreatin' when 
 dey retreat. 'Fo' you try to win er 'oman's heart study 
 yo' 'oman ; dat's de main thing, an' when you know 'er, 
 you got 'er. 
 
 " I been had heap o' sperience wid wimmin folks in my 
 time three wives, an' de Lawd knows how many sweet- 
 hearts ; an' I know what I is talkin' 'bout. But I ain't 
 never see two wimmin yit whar could be wukked alike ; an' 
 I ain't never see one 'oman whar could be wukked alike at 
 two difunt times. In courtin' any 'oman you got to 'ceed 
 on de gin'ral princ'ples uv her cunst'uton as fur as you kin, 
 but you got to vary dem princ'ples 'cordin' to de fancy an' 
 de state uv her min' at de time uv de courtin.' I had to 
 use difunt princ'ples in courtin' all my wifes. My fus' 
 wife was er mighty 'ligious 'oman, an' I brought her 'round 
 by larnin' texts f'om de Bible an' spoutin' dem at 'er. 
 She was er mighty good 'oman, an er man could do any- 
 thing wid 'er if he jes' knew 'nough texts. Moses Martin, 
 de colored preacher, knowed mo' texts dan I did, an' he got 
 'er 'way f'om me arter while 'gtranged her 'fections, but 
 I always blamed myself fur dat : I ought to knowed mo' 
 texts. 
 
 " My secon' wife was er airyfied young gal plump an' 
 yaller as a punkin, fon' o' jew'lry an' fine cloze an' 
 puffumery, an' jes' as crazy arter red as er mad bull. I 
 got me er coat wid tails whar dragged de groun' : I 
 got me er necktie an' ves' de color uv Miss Helen's 
 red jewranium, an' er collar whar took me under de 
 yers. I kivered my fingers wid prize-box rings, an' put 
 di'mons in my shut bosom mos' big as bin's aiggs. I got
 
 UNCLE BILLY'S ADVICE. 127 
 
 me de bigges' seegar in de country: I po'ed muss 
 cologne all over myse'f ; an.' den I sailed in fur 'er. Lawd ! 
 I tell you I was jes' dazzlin' I didn't have no trouble wid 
 'er. 'Twas er heap o' men folks 'round 'er payin' 'er 'ten- 
 tion, but she seem like she f ergot dey was livin' when she 
 seed me. I could see dat my red ves' an' di'rnons had 
 mos' done took her bre'f away. I got close to 'er, an' I 
 puffed my seegar, an' I fanned de puffumery uv de muss 
 cologne in 'er face. De yuther bucks seed dat I was de 
 cock-uv-de-walk, an' dat de jig was up wid dem, an' dey went 
 off an' lef us. Den I made short wuk uv de matter. She 
 come 'round so easy, an' was so willin'- dat I felt like I 
 hadn't done much to git 'er. An' I hadn't neither. Arter we 
 was merried sometime, hyah come er feller wid seegars an' 
 di'mon's little bigger dan mine, an' some muss cologne er 
 little stronger and away she went, an' I ain't never seed 
 her since. 
 
 " De love uv young gals like dat is largely er matter uv 
 who kin sport de reddest necktie, or who is got de shiniest 
 shoes. Up to er sartin age gals love er peacock ; but arter 
 while dey loves er bird wid mo' meat an' less feathers. 
 
 " Now, Majer, you knows Miss Helen as well as I does 
 you know she got er cuns'tution whar enjoys po'try an' 
 flowers an' sech things ; an' what de name o' Gawd you 
 want to keep tellin' 'er 'bout 'tatoes, an' grass, an' ail dem 
 things fur ? If you want to git 'er, you got to 'due' yo' 
 campaign in er difunt way. I tell you what to do. Jes' 
 lie low till you gits over de so'ness uv dis kick, an' den go 
 fur her ag'in, but go in er difunt manner f'om what you 
 been goin'. Drap yo'se'f,- yo' farm, yo' cloze, an' all dem
 
 128 STUBS OF TIMK. 
 
 subjic's when you is in her comp'ny ; an' what she wants to 
 'verse 'bout, dats what you wants to 'verse 'bout. You 
 wants to git you some po'try books, an' squ't po'try at 'er 
 till she can't res' she likes dat dey say 'er fus' hus- 
 ban' when he was a-courtin' 'er, talked in rhyme mos' all 
 de time. You mus' git up some pretty ideas 'bout de moon 
 an' stars, an' take 'er out in de moonshine an' shoot dem 
 at 'er wid heavy sighs 'tween de loads. You mus' study 
 flowers an' pictures start er flower garden on yo' place 
 tell 'er you thinkin 'bout larnin' how to paint mos' have 
 er fit when you hear pretty music ; an' when you see er fi'ry 
 sunset holler like you gwine crazy. 
 
 " Do all dem things gradual like, an' make 'er b'lieve yo' 
 love fur her done change de fundymental mudsills uv yo' 
 cuns'tution. Wimmin will b'lieve sech things heap sooner 
 dan you think. Dey's got right smart cunceit, an' dey 
 thinks when er man is in love wid 'em dat his love is pow'f ul 
 'nough to do anything. Make 'er think yo' love acts on 
 yo' soul like 'east on bread, an' makes it rise. 
 
 " 'Nother thing, Majer, when you gin 'er presents, don't 
 you go an' sen' her er bar'l uv cabbages, like you done las' 
 Chrismus, or chines an' spyar-ribs, like you done on 'er 
 birfday. Sech things would be mighty good presents fur 
 yo' wife, but somehow dey don't look jes' right fur er 
 sweetheart. Sweethearts like airy, dilicate things : dey's 
 heap mo' fanciful an' airyfied dan er wife. You sen' 'er 
 vi'lets an' roses, candy, books, an' all dem things. 
 
 " Las', you got to hoi' in mind de fac' she is er widow 
 'oman ; an' you got to be ticklish on dat account. Er man 
 has to be mo' keerful in 'dressin' er widow dan he does wid
 
 UNCLE BILLY'S ADVICE. 129 
 
 any yuther 'oman. My 'sperience is dat widow wimmin is 
 mo' anxious to git merried, but harder to bring 'round dan 
 yuther wimmin. You see dey is always got to compyar you 
 wid dere fus' husban', an' if you lack dis or dat whar de 
 fus' husban' didn't lack, it makes ag'in you. 
 
 " Den in dealin' wid widows, you got to be mighty keerful 
 in regard to de fus' husban' how you talks 'bout 'im, an' 
 so-fo'f. Some widows likes to talk 'bout dere fus' husban' 
 all de time ; while yuthers don' never speak uv 'im, an' you 
 wouldn't know dey'd ever had any. Hit all 'pends 'pon de 
 cunst'ution uv de widow. Wid some uv 'em, a fus' hus- 
 ban', if you use 'im right, is de bridge whar you kin go in 
 her heart on: wid yuthers, de fus' husban', if you go to 
 foolin' wid 'iin, might be er wall to keep you out uv her 
 heart. So you see you got to be mighty ticklish in handliu' 
 de fus husban', an mus' always gin her de lead. If she 
 lef 'im in de grave you lef 'im dyah too: if she keep 
 pullin' 'im out an' makin' er saint uv 'im you do it too, 
 an' 'gree wid 'er puffectly. 
 
 " I don' know how Miss Helen is in respic' to her fus' 
 husban', but I tell you be keerful, an' study yo' 'oman 
 fus' an' las' study yo' 'oman." 
 
 " I believe you are right, Billy," said the Major, as the 
 advice was concluded, "I think there is a great deal of 
 truth and good sense in what you say, and that I have been 
 acting the part of an ass for a long time. I never thought 
 of it before, but I see now what a fool I've been." 
 
 "Thank Gawd!" fervently responded Uncle Billy 
 "Hit's jes' like I toF Sis Sally, all you needed was 
 somebody to open yo' eyes, an' now I know you'll git her 
 
 9
 
 130 STUBS OF TIME. 
 
 if you go 'bout it right. You ain't been no bigger fool dan 
 mos' bach'ler men: I's a fool myse'f till I got merried an' 
 had er wife to juk de kinks outer me. Lawd ! by de time 
 you's had three wifes, like I is, you'll know suppin'." 
 
 " Yes," continued the Major, " I thank you for your 
 advice, and I am going to follow your plans, and start right 
 now whoa stop the horse, Billy, and get out and pull 
 me that passion flower and a piece of that love-vine growing 
 there; I'll put them on my coat she'll be at church to- 
 day, and they will show her my appreciation of flowers, and 
 at the same time express the state of my feelings." 
 
 "Wait er minnit lemme see 'bout dat," said Uncle 
 Billy, stopping the horse, and pulling his beard medita- 
 tively. " She's 'gusted an' mad wid you now, an' you 
 don't want to start in too brash. Dyar ain't but two ways 
 uv dealin' wid er mad 'oman : one is to tu'n 'er cross yo' 
 lap an' gin 'er er a good spankin' ; an' de yuther is to be 
 as humble as er Quaker puppy dog, an' be williu' to lick de 
 very soles uv 'er feet till she gits pleased. De fus' way 
 'plies almos' 'sclusively to merried gentmuns, an' only to 
 dem when dey is better men dan dere wifes is. De yuther 
 way is de one you got to follow. I think dat love-vine an' 
 passion bloom would look too bol' an' brazin jes' at dis 
 time. You wants to look mo' grovelin' an' humble till she 
 gits pleased wid you. If I's gwi' war' any flowers, think 
 I'd take er little piece uv dat everlastin' dj^ar dey uses 
 dat at fun'als, an' on graves, an' dat'll gin you er sorter 
 humble an' pitiful look show her dat you keer fur even de 
 homeliest flowers ; an' if she keers to draw 'elusions f 'oin 
 it consarnin' de state uv yo' heart,, it'll please 'er to think
 
 UNCLE BILLY'S ADVICE. 131 
 
 yo' 'fection is eveiiastin' in spite uv de go-by she's done 
 gin you." 
 
 This logic was irresistible. The Major soon had a dainty 
 spray of the everlasting in his buttonhole, and they went on 
 their way. 
 
 After church, Mrs. Weatherford greeted the Major with a 
 frigid bow ; but her sister, Mrs. Travers, who was a warm- 
 hearted little woman, with deepest sensibilities, and a very 
 keen sense of humor, spoke to him cordially. The picture 
 of humility, the Major walked with them silently to their 
 carriage, and with downcast eyes helped them in. 
 
 " Major, won't you go by and dine with us to-day? " 
 Mrs. Travers asked him. 
 
 " Thank you, no, I can'tgo to-day," replied the Major. 
 "What beautiful roses you have on, Mrs. Travers," he 
 continued, conscious that the widow heard every word, 
 " couldn't you spare me one? " 
 
 " With pleasure," she replied, tactfully concealing the 
 surprise she felt at the request. 
 
 The Major took the rose, and humbly pressed it to his 
 lips. 
 
 " Thank you good-bye," he said, raising his hat, as he 
 turned away. 
 
 "Well, did you ever! " exclaimed Mrs. Travers to her 
 sister, when they had driven off, "did you ever ! What 
 can have come over the spirit of the Major's dreams? I 
 never saw him wearing flowers before, or take any notice of 
 them. I didn't know he was conscious that flowers had 
 ever been created. Did you hear him admire my roses, and 
 beg for one? "
 
 132 STUBS OF TIME. 
 
 " O yes, I heard him." Mrs. Weatherford answered non- 
 chalantly, " and like you I was surprised that the animal 
 noticed a flower." 
 
 Time rolled on, and the Major conducted his campaign 
 according to the tactics laid down by Uncle Billy. People 
 wondered at the change in him. Several times had he been 
 caught reading romances and books of poetry; and his 
 bouquet had become a part of him : it would have been the 
 subject of comment had he appeared without it. Uncle 
 Billy was consulted more and more frequently on strategic 
 points as the time for a crisis seemed to be drawing near. 
 
 " Yas," he was telling the Major, " I thinks you done 
 got on fine. Dem vi'lets an' candy an' books an' things 
 done brought 'er 'round, she's you born. Watch yo' 
 pints now, an' keep er clear head, an' she's yo' meat." 
 
 " Think I'll settle the matter to-morrow," said the 
 Major, "I am tired of being in suspense. I've done 
 my best, and if she's ever going to have me, she'll do it 
 now." 
 
 " Well yas," said Uncle Billy, " I 'spec' 'tis 'bout time. 
 As I says, you is 'parently done pretty well, and she seems 
 to kinder favor you now. You's made one or two blunder- 
 in's, but I don't think dey 'mounted to much. Sis Sally 
 tol' me she looked kinder 'gusted when you sent 'er dat 
 mess o' turnup salad on Volentine Day ; but as it happened 
 she was very fon' uv turnup salad, an' it didn't make much 
 difunce. You ought never sent it, dough, widout cun- 
 sultin' me. 
 
 "Yas, I speck you might as well settle de matter to- 
 morrow. As de Bible says, dyar's er time fur all things
 
 UNCLE BILLY'S ADVICE. 133 
 
 dyar's er time to sen' books an' flowers an' things, an' 
 dyar's er time to pop de question. It's wid wirnmin like 
 it's wid yuther things you got to strike while de i'on's 
 hot." 
 
 The next afternoon, the Major, having put on his best, 
 was ready to go and find out his doom from the widow. 
 
 " What sort of flowers had I better wear, Billy? " he in- 
 quired, as the old darkey was inspecting him to see that he 
 was in proper trim. 
 
 " Lemme see 'bout dat," said Billy removing his hat, 
 and scratching his head pensively, " lemme see 'bout 
 dat dis is er mighty critercul time, an' you can't be too 
 keerful. Lemme see roses, vi'lets naw : buddercups, 
 cow-itch pa'tridge pea pizen ivy : naw, dey won't 
 do : clover, hogweed, wire-grass naw my Gawd ! Tell 
 de trufe, Majer, I spec you better war' no flowers dis time. 
 You an' I don't know 'nough 'bout flowers to tell what 
 kind would be safe on dis critercul 'casion, an' it's bes' not 
 to run any risk. Wimmin is so curious an' pertic'ler, dey 
 got feelin's an' notions jes' like er razor aidge dey gits 
 turned mos' if you look at 'em. Naw, Sah, it's bes' to be 
 on de safe side. I 'vise you not to war no flowers, Majer." 
 
 " All right, Billy, I won't. Have you got any further 
 advice to give me before I go ? " 
 
 " Naw, Sah, I b'lieve I done toP you all I got to tell 
 you been tryin' to get you ready fur dis time uv jedge- 
 meritfurdelas' ten munts. I'll tell you dough, as las' words, 
 to let her do most uv de courtin' if she will ; an' be mighty 
 keerful 'bo utdat fus' husban'. She's apt to bring 'im up 
 at sech er time, if she ain't never done it before. Be keer-
 
 134 STUBS OF TIME. 
 
 ful wid dat dead husban', an' let her gin you de lead 
 in every thing if she will. Good-bye, an' Gawd gin you 
 good luck : I done all I kin fur you. You got to weed de 
 balance uv de row by yo'se'f." 
 
 Major Owen came back that night looking the picture of 
 woe. Uncle Billy met him, gave him a look, and feared 
 the worst. 
 
 "How did you come out, Majer?" he inquired in a 
 sympathetic voice. 
 
 "I am afraid the jig's up with me, Billy," the Major 
 replied disconsolately. 
 
 " Gin you de go-by ag'in, did she? " 
 
 " Not in so many words, Billy, but I could see very plain 
 how the land lay, and I was afraid to ask her saw it was 
 no use." 
 
 "How was dat, Major? " 
 
 " Well you see, Billy, I thought first to entertain and 
 please her, and get her in a good humor ; so I started to 
 tell her about art and literature, and all that sort of thing, 
 when bless my soul! I couldn't make any headway 
 before she'd catch me up, and try to turn the conversation 
 to farming, cattle, crops, and all those things that used to 
 make her so angry when I talked of them. She asked me 
 all about my hogs and garden and cattle, till I found out 
 she was just trying to make a fool of me, and was laughing 
 at me up her sleeve ; and then I got up and left. I wasn't 
 going to give her the pleasure of kicking me again why, 
 what's the matter ? you ' ' 
 
 He was interrupted by peals of laughter from Uncle Billy, 
 who was apparently speechless in the paroxysms of his
 
 UNCLE BILLY'S ADVICE. 135 
 
 amusement. After shaking for several moments in that 
 laughter which is silent and almost painful through its 
 excessiveness, he finally managed to control his risible 
 faculties, and recover his breath. 
 
 "Hurrah! Majer," he cried, " you's all right you 
 got 'er jes' whar you want 'er. When er 'oman do like dat, 
 you got 'er you hyar me you got 'er, Sah. She tryin' 
 to please you now : she gwine 'ginst de grain to please you 
 now ; an' when er 'oman do dat, you kin bet yo' las' cint 
 you got 'er. Yas Lawd, go over dere de fus' thing in de 
 mornin', an' fix de matter up. You don't have to be keer- 
 f ul now sail in any slap-dash sorter way, an' you bound 
 to Ian' 'er. Kin war' any flowers, an' jes' as many as you 
 choose : war' er bunch uv dem passion blooms big as yo' 
 head if you chooses, an' wrop 'em round wid er rope uv 
 love- vine big as er steer chain. Yassir, you got 'er 
 whar you want 'er now, an' you kin do de leadin' kin be 
 as reckless wid dat dead husban' as you please now." 
 
 Next morning Uncle Billy and Aunt Sally were in the 
 kitchen at Mrs. Weatherford's, and the Major was up in the 
 parlor. He had been reassured by Uncle Billy's view of 
 the widow's behavior, and was going to try his luck again. 
 
 "How you think he gwi' come out, Sis Sally? " Uncle 
 Billy was saying. 
 
 " Don't know, Brer Billy, things look like dey is in 
 jes' as bad er fix now as dey was befo' you gin yo' 'vice. 
 Dey's done see-sawed 'round, but 'pears to be in jes' er bad 
 way. Majer used to talk guano an' 'taters, an' Miss Helen 
 talked books an' po'try, now, Majer, he talk books an' 
 po'try, and Miss Helen talk 'taters an' guano. I don' see
 
 136 STUBS OF TIME. 
 
 how dey is any mo' kumpatible dan dey ever was. Dey is 
 done swop 'round, but it looks like dey is gwine to rub one 
 an'er de wrong way jes' as much. 
 
 " Las' night at de supper table, thought I'd buss wid 
 laughiu'. Miss Helen ast de Majer suppiu 'bout his corn. 
 De Majer he kinder blesh an' stammer gin her er short 
 answer, an' change de subjic quick as he could ; an' den 
 started to squ't out er lot uv po'try. Miss Helen 'pear like 
 she didn't hear de po'try, but kept on pumpin' uv 'im 'bout 
 de craps, while he kept tryin' to 'vade 'er, an' tu'n 'er off 
 by squ'tin' his po'try. Mrs. Travers got in er tickle an' 
 mos' had to leave de table. But dyar dose two sot, jes' 
 ser'ous as jedges, she talkin' farmin', an' he squt'in' 
 rhymes. 
 
 "Naw, I don' see how dey is ever gwi' come togedder 
 dat I don't." 
 
 " Well," said Uncle Billy, " we'll wait an' see. I got er 
 difunt 'pinion 'bout it: you'll see dat Hush! " he 
 broke off listening. "I hear de Majer an' Miss Helen 
 gwine out in de garden to take er walk. Dyar dey go 
 you hear dat don't you? " 
 
 " Yes dyar dey go," said Aunt Sally, who walked to the 
 window and looked out. "I got to go out dere myse'f, 
 prezny, arter dem cloze I hung out to dry. Dey seems to be 
 walkin' 'long right frien'ly an' quiet like reggin dey'd git 
 on better if dey didn't talk." 
 
 " Dunno 'bout dat," said Uncle Billy, taking up a live 
 coal in his fingers, and placing it on his pipe, " but let 
 um paddle de own boat done all I kin fur 'etn done gin 
 de Majer de benefit uv all my 'sperience wid wiinmin. 
 Dat's de bes' I kin do."
 
 UNCLE BILLY'S ADVICE. 137 
 
 " 'Scuse me er minnit, Brer Billy," Aunt Sally said, 
 opening the door, "I got to go after dem cloze." 
 
 In a little while she came back, evidently in a state of the 
 greatest excitement. She slammed the door, and dropped 
 the clothes in the dirt. 
 
 " Lam' o' Gawd ! " she gasped, "I walked up on em', 
 an' de Majer had 'er in his arms a-kissin' uv 'er squar' inde 
 mouf, an' she didn't seem to be makin' no 'sistunce 
 neither! " 
 
 Aunt Sally sank panting into a chair, as though quite 
 overcome by the thought of this last observation. 
 
 " Humph," grunted Uncle Billy carelessly, " no mo'n 
 what I 'spected. Dat's de 'suit uv my 'vice. Whyn't 
 you pick dem cloze up outer de dirt, 'oman? "
 
 138 STUBS OF TIME. 
 
 NOVEMBER. 
 
 To one who sees it aright, there is nothing more beautiful 
 than a November day. The happier characteristics of the 
 other seasons seem united in the late Indian Summer days 
 to give us something ideal. There is the plaintive sweet- 
 ness of spring, without its languor ; the warmth and rich- 
 ness of summer, without its heat; and while winter's sterner 
 temperament is absent, there is enough of its fresh and 
 bracing air to give tone and vigor to the combination. 
 November is the unison of the year's tenderest moods : it 
 is the echo, the last sweet quavering strain of a grand swell- 
 ing harmony, full of poetry, full of sentiment, full of 
 sadness. It is that placid, half -ethereal meeting-ground of 
 life and death, where Winter, with softened grimness, takes 
 Summer resigned and yielding into his arms, and bears her 
 gently, slowly away. 
 
 Most of the leaves have fallen. A few bright yellow ones 
 still cling to the lower branches of the mulberry trees, 
 giving a striking and vivid dash of color to the landscape, 
 which is fast becoming wintry. The mulberry leaves are 
 among the first to show the effect of the frost. When, 
 after a pinching autumn night, you see those at the top of 
 the tree shrunken and dark, you may know that Jack Frost
 
 . s^ i- : ;; ; , /-:*> \M.\ 

 
 NOVEMBER. 139 
 
 has come. Those lower, hold their own somewhat longer ; 
 but after a succession of frosty nights, some morning when 
 the sun strikes them they will begin to tumble all at once in 
 legions. The warmth of the sun appears to precipitate the 
 work of the frost, and in a few hours the boughs will be 
 nearly denuded. 
 
 On the giant sycamores, too, some straggling leaves of 
 mottled brown and green remain, clinging tenaciously 
 to the twigs through the fickle season's alternate change 
 from blustering winter to genial summer, and wildly 
 dancing in a seeming vain effort to hide the nakedness of 
 the half bare tree. They will soon give up and drop, 
 one by one when the day is mild and still, in hundreds 
 when the gusty winds blow. They will join the myriads of 
 their comrades that already lie in the hollows of the lawn 
 and in the fence corners, and with them will race and circle 
 with the whirlwind, dancing fantastically back and forth in 
 Nature's carnival till April. 
 
 There was once a great painter, who feeling his final ill- 
 ness upon him, asked that his easel be placed by his bedside 
 that he might paint his last picture. As his life slowly 
 ebbed, he worked, and there shone from the picture a light 
 and an inspiration as though from another world. There 
 was expression, and soul, and a beautiful sadness in it, 
 and, withal, a strange deep joy, such as a spirit fast 
 prisoned in mortal clay could neither have conceived nor 
 guided the hand that wrought it. 
 
 So would November seem the masterpiece of the moribund 
 year. There is a tone in her sunshine, a tint in her skies, 
 which we find at no other season. The haze of her golden
 
 140 STUBS OF TIME. 
 
 hours spreads over the land like a mysterious mantle of 
 beauty a grateful winding sheet gently drawn over the 
 paling features of dying Nature. A halo seems to hover 
 over the earth ; light and shadows are more intense ; the 
 landscape is more vivid, more forcible. There's tonic in the 
 air, which gives enthusiasm to life, and zest to outdoor move- 
 ment and action. The atmosphere is more resonant. 
 Sounds are carried, clear and musical, for great distances. 
 Echoes, unknown before, spring up as though spontaneously 
 generated in the cold, crystalline air. The bay of the 
 coursing hounds in the far forest comes melodiously soft- 
 ened across the reaches of field and meadow. The merry 
 voices and laughter of school-children, as they return home 
 upon the highway, are distinct at half a mile. The cry of 
 the wagoner to his team, and the sharp crack of his whip ; 
 the call of a belated partridge, lost from his flock which 
 some huntsman has scattered ; the hoarse call of the wild 
 geese winging their southward flight high over the houses 
 and trees ; these are the voices these and many others, 
 which with the chirp and twitter of migrating birds, proclaim 
 November's advent. 
 
 Yes, November is the last smile of the dying year ; a 
 tender thought in the bosom of time ; the opal of the calen- 
 dar. 
 
 Now we hear the ring of the woodcutter's axe, a reso- 
 nant, musical, half -metallic sound, echoing far and clear in 
 the rimy air, as the lusty chopper plies blow after blow upon 
 the sturdy log. An adept in woodcraft may often tell the 
 kind of tree which is being cut from the sound of the chop- 
 ping. Hickory, being a hard wood, the axe rings loud and
 
 NOVEMBER. 141 
 
 sharp when it is struck. Oak has a more heavy, but duller 
 note; while in pine, that being much softer, the sound of 
 the impact is more a dull thud devoid of all resonance. 
 
 There is no sound more suggestive of winter and its pleas- 
 ures than that of wood-cutting. As the axe rings out, 
 thought leads to thought. We think of that charming old 
 household god, now alas ! fast going out of fashion, 
 the great open fire of logs. What associations cluster 
 around it ! How dear it is to all of us who have known it ! 
 It is the symbol of broad hospitality, deep, domestic love, 
 and firm family endearment and ties. The great open fire 
 is emblematic of the great open heart ; we can see and feel 
 its glorious warmth and beneficence its rich and full diffu- 
 sion of good and true influences. It is a thing of life it 
 exists as an institution well founded in human affections. 
 It has lent its genial qualities, its loyal integrity, its grace- 
 ful beauty, and its inspiration to History, Poetry and Art. 
 Artists have painted it ; poets have sung of it ; orators have 
 eulogized it, paying it rich tribute in immortal words ; and 
 patriots and martyrs have spoken of it in sincere words 
 laden with their heart's earnestness. A potent factor in 
 the upbuilding of the race, morality, stability, fidelity, and 
 sterling honesty of temperament have been nurtured in the 
 fostering warmth of its flame. It is the center of all home 
 life ; the cynosure of steadfast devotion and real worth ; the 
 symbol of all happy and pure social intercourse. Peace, 
 contentment, kindliness, and good cheer are its grateful 
 emanations, while broad and gracious hospitality radiates 
 from every beam of its merry light. There is nothing 
 which has been more instrumental in drawing heart to
 
 142 STUBS OF TIME. 
 
 heart : in the history of the race there has been no greater 
 humanizer. While the shivering savages drew close around 
 the cheery blaze in the bleak northern forests, suffering man 
 met suffering man about the common center ; acts of assist- 
 ance, words of mutual sympathy passed between them, and 
 charity, altruism and philanthropy were born. 
 
 What a pity that this time-honored and beneficent spirit 
 should be banished from the household ! But with the old 
 grandmother with her knitting and spinning wheel, with 
 the sturdy oak that stood grim and gigantic in the virgin 
 forests, it is gone. The holy hour of the twilight gloaming 
 has fled the land. The sweet inspiration of the evening 
 muse and reverie is no more. The mingled glow and colors 
 of a thousand summer sunsets no longer flares and flickers 
 on our hearth. The lithe wood flame no longer croons as it 
 plays in fantastic jets over the big logs. Where now shall 
 the children roast their apples and potatoes? Where shall 
 Bruno stretch his shaggy form to bask in comfort while he 
 takes his snooze? What is there to bring the blood tingling 
 back to the cheeks after a frosty drive, or by its very 
 presence, to send a thrill of cheer and comfort to the heart 
 of the benumbed traveler? Where will the corn be popped, 
 the chestnuts roasted ? Where will the family circle gather 
 now in sympathetic communion of soul. Let us rue the 
 death of our dear, old, venerable friend, which was the 
 comforter of the cold ; the companion of the solitary ; the 
 solace of the low-spirited, and a good tutelary Genius to us 
 all. 
 
 What a cheerless, uncompanionable thing a stove is ! 
 The coal fire with its dirty yellow flames, and its thick
 
 NOVEMBER. 143 
 
 heavy smoke, is little better. There is a lack of life, luster 
 and charm about it ; it has no mettle, and reminds one of 
 machinery, factories, and the grosser phases of humanity. 
 It possesses neither poetry nor sentiment : its very ashes are 
 less attractive than those of the wood fire. And what shall 
 we say of the steam heater and the furnace ? Of what are 
 they emblems? What is there in them to expand the 
 heart, or enkindle affection and homelike feeling? Their 
 hot breath is not that of fresh life and buoyant wholesome- 
 ness ; their warmth lacks all geniality : it warms the body 
 but not the spirit. They are emblematic of a repression 
 and reserve of genuine things ; they conceal the heartsome 
 source of comfort and gladness. They stand fof cold 
 materialism, dull utility, the philosophy of physical luxury 
 and ease. The fruits of their fetid atmosphere are divorces, 
 lap dogs, and nervous wrecks. In the homes where they 
 exist we often find sentiment on its death-bed, and the 
 soul's higher ideals pale, wan, shadows fading away in 
 the close air of commercialism. The furnace and the 
 steam heater may stand for a higher civilization, but 
 they also mean that there is absent from the home a 
 virility, a strength and hardy freedom that abided there 
 when the forest kings burnt upon the hearth. They mean 
 that the daughters of the land have become, in many in- 
 stances, artificial hot-house flowers, who, no longer getting 
 their color from the wind and sun as the roses and apples 
 do, have to resort to the dealer in cosmetics around the 
 corner ; that they dream unwholesome dreams of erotic sen- 
 timentality instead of imbibing true womanhood and real 
 love from the teachings of Nature, and the fresh air of the
 
 144 feTUBS OF TIME. 
 
 forests and meadows, as their grandmothers did: they mean 
 that the sons of the land have lost their stout muscles and 
 fearless independence ; that they handle the day-book, the 
 stock ticker, the typewriter, or they measure and cut the 
 yard of ribbon, or clip samples and tie parcels where once 
 the dells resounded to the mighty stroke of their axes, and 
 the hills re-echoed their merry shouts as they drove the teams 
 a-field. 
 
 With the departure of the open wood-fire it looks as though 
 dear old Santa Glaus must go, too, and cease to be a delight- 
 ful and beloved charm in the lives of our children. The 
 sweet old legend of childhood ! it suffered a great shock 
 when coal and stoves came into general use ; but now, with 
 the furnace and heaters, it would seem that it must go. 
 Sometimes we see the touching sight of tiny stockings hung 
 along the mantel where the fireplace used to be. It is a sad 
 travesty on St. Nicholas and the good old times. Where 
 shall Santa enter now ? The doors and windows are tight 
 fastened and bolted against the burglarious, midnight in- 
 truder he cannot come in there. Perhaps there are even 
 electric alarms that might frighten the old fellow to the 
 imperilment of his toys, and which might awaken the sleep- 
 ing innocents so he would be caught. If there be chimneys, 
 they are much too small to admit that rotund personage with 
 his bulging bag of gifts. But it is more than likely there 
 are no chimneys at all, and only steam pipes or narrow flues 
 not big enough to admit the Saint's massive foot. These 
 facts show plainly that Santa has not kept pace with the 
 times, and there must be radical changes in his personality 
 if he does not wish to be a back number. Either he must
 
 NOVEMBER. 145 
 
 reduce his avoirdupois to such a degree of attenuation as 
 will allow him to make the descent of a three-inch pipe, or 
 he must acquire the power of witches and genii to pass 
 through the key-hole. His beloved individuality suffers 
 much in either case. There would be something lacking 
 about the Kris Kringle who came into a room other than 
 down the chimney. He would not seem real he would 
 scarcely be welcome. One would feel like asking him 
 reproachfully, "How dare you enter here, Sir, in any 
 manner save through the chimney? And your reindeer, 
 where are they ? What ! not upon the roof ! Who ever 
 heard of a Santa Glaus who did not leave his reindeer and 
 sleigh on the roof while he filled the stocking ! You certainly 
 are a freak." 
 
 But who that has ever known the real Santa Glaus would 
 see him lose the smallest jot of his characteristics? That 
 august paunch with its traditional bowl-of-jelly-like agita- 
 tions ; those merry blue eyes all a-sparkle with good will ; 
 that pert little cherry-red nose ; the long silvery beard ; the 
 belt and boots, and the fur coat and high, peaked cap all 
 of them have been reverend institutions in the lives of chil- 
 dren for years past. And the reindeer and the sleigh, and 
 the home at the North Pole, where the great books are kept 
 with their statistics relative to good and bad boys and girls. 
 Must childhood be bereft of all these dear old myths, 
 and become a time of as barren and prosy realism as is 
 maturity ? 
 
 Yes, it would seem that Santa must go. Already in the 
 towns has he been largely superseded by that comparatively 
 modern innovation the Christmas tree. How tame it is in 
 
 10
 
 146 STUBS OF TIME. 
 
 comparison a stuffy, gross thing of tinsel and timber, the 
 creature of philistinism. There is not a particle of mys- 
 terious interest connected with it: it is no better than a 
 miniature imitation of a toy and confectionery shop, with its 
 tasteless profusion of goodies and trinkets. There is about 
 it none of that sense of affection, and of hallowed mystery 
 that is attached to Santa Glaus. It cannot even be utilized 
 to get the children early to bed on Christmas Eve. And 
 when the little ones awake in the morning what a flat, 
 lifeless pretense to usher them into the presence of a Christ- 
 mas tree ! There is no pleasurable excitement in picking a 
 tin soldier or a Noah's ark off a twig. Is there a natural, 
 self-respecting child in existence, who had not rather pull 
 one apple out of his stocking than take a whole peck of 
 them off a Christmas tree ? The belief that it was brought 
 by Santa Glaus will lend to a gift a greater charm than in- 
 trinsic value could possibly do. Let the magical influence 
 of Santa but be impressed upon a superannuated jumping- 
 jack or a rickety old go-cart, and their value is enhanced 
 tenfold. The knowledge that a gift was affixed to the 
 branches of the Christmas tree a few hours before by par- 
 ental hands adds nothing to the enthusiasm with which it 
 is received. The modern juvenile Platos may even look 
 questionably at such performances. At a recent Christinas 
 tree festival a tot was heard to ask its father, who was tak- 
 ing a toy off the tree, " What you want to tie it up there 
 for? Why didn't you give it to me just so? " 
 
 But the delightful exhilaration, the expectant ecstasy of 
 Christmas morning where Santa Glaus is a reality ; when at 
 the peep of dawn the small, white-robed cherubs slip out of
 
 NOVEMBER. 147 
 
 their beds, and steal to the fireplace to take down their 
 stockings and see what the dear Saint brought. To be 
 pitied is he who has known no such experiences in the fairy- 
 land of childhood. A life without such reminiscences is 
 like a garden without the rose. 
 
 After many frosts have fallen, after the trees stand naked, 
 after films of ice have bridged the shallow pools that lie in 
 the meadows, there will sometimes come a day which one 
 might well take to be a derelict from the ranks of April. Gen- 
 tle warm winds will blow ; there will be snowy clouds enough 
 to vary the monotony, and intensify the color of the deep 
 azure sky ; the frogs, whose voices have been hushed by 
 the stiffening of the marshes, will awake from their hiber- 
 nations, and, coming out, pipe again in the sunny, secluded 
 lowlands ; the purple haze and golden sunshine mingle, 
 seeming to vie with each other as to which shall lend the pre- 
 dominant glory to the landscape ; birds flit about in the soft, 
 balmy air ; the sapsucker gives his jeering cry, as he par- 
 takes of his feast of nectar on the apple tree, keeping a 
 wary eye, meanwhile, for the farmer whose rules he is vio- 
 lating ; the bluebirds frolic to and fro on the low limbs, 
 warbling their love-notes plaintive and elusive, and now and 
 then exploring and peeping into hollows with a view to 
 spring house-keeping; flocks of sparrows and j uncos gather 
 under the trees on the green plats of grass lying like oases 
 in the frost-bitten stretches of lawn : they catch the conta- 
 gious spirit of the day, and unite in a joyous medley of song. 
 A belated butterfly, his wings ragged, and colors pale, 
 animated by the warmth, will rise from the shelter he had 
 sought in the preceding cold days, and on tremulous wings
 
 148 STUBS OF TIME. 
 
 flit unsteadily around like the ghost of his former self. 
 Like the flowers, and no more hearty than they, he shows 
 the stress of the biting weather, and like them, too, now 
 makes a struggle for existence on every warm day. 
 
 November usually brings the first snow. Some day, to- 
 wards the month's end, the heavy, black clouds will pile up 
 in the north ; gradually they will spread, becoming less 
 black encroaching and enlarging till the whole visible 
 heavens are a dull, uniform grey. Then it begins to fall 
 gently very gently a flake or two tentatively, as 
 though to see if the earth be ready for the virgin mantle of 
 purity. The dull smoke rolls up from the chimneys, and 
 disappears in the grey of the sky. The cardinal seeks the 
 covert of the thick, young cedars, and there expresses his 
 uneasiness by repeated, but subdued cries. Experience 
 tells him that the outlook is to be feared. Snow is always 
 a serious thing with the birds ; it is Nature's embargo on 
 their granaries ; while perhaps a graver feature is that it 
 exposes them to much greater danger from the free- 
 booters making them conspicuous at the same time that 
 necessity drives them to places of peril. The first snow 
 always looks more beautiful than subsequent ones. It is a 
 novelty then, and the contrast of the changed face of the 
 world is more striking. Thanksgiving Day, which custom 
 has placed in late November, and the first snow are looked 
 upon in common acceptation as the ushers of Winter. 
 Thanksgiving the feast of plenty the time of grateful 
 gladness and festival had its prototype in all ages, and 
 among nearly all peoples. Always it has been a semi-
 
 NOVEMBER. 149 
 
 religious fete, celebrating the ingathering of the autumn's 
 crops and abundance. 
 
 In these days of agnosticism and materialism we should 
 be thankful that the beautiful custom of Thanksgiving is 
 observed, and that it has the sanction of law and govern- 
 ment back of it. There has been a great falling away of 
 oldtime faith, and of old time customs and traditions. A 
 young nation so jealous of restrict ion and suppression of 
 liberty in any field of human activity may go to the other 
 extreme, and in its haste to break the old idols of super- 
 stition, custom and prejudice, may lose sight of the 
 elements of real truth and worth that they contain. It is 
 well that Thanksgiving is becoming year by year a firmer 
 grounded institution of our national life. By the observance 
 of national holidays we may judge of national integrity. 
 On holidays one has the best insight into the heart of a 
 people. National character reveals itself most plainly in 
 national festivals. Christmas and Thanksgiving are great 
 demolishers of a people's selfishness. They are seasons 
 consecrated to the tenderer feelings of the Great Human 
 Heart ; they are times of personal disinterestedness, when a 
 man casts the anchor of his material life, and rests for a 
 while amid the gentle swell of kindly feeling and sympathy. 
 At such times one is led to take the bearings of one's 
 spiritual course. In the busy every-day life we have to 
 hold fast to the helm that steers us through the practical 
 actualities ; and we have to keep an eye to the more physical 
 matters to the corporeal rocks and shoals of material 
 existence. But in the calm of the sacred holidays we have
 
 150 STUBS OF TIME. 
 
 time to look at the spiritual compass, at the soul's cyno- 
 sure, and see what our direction is. 
 
 Last night there was a nipping frost. The moon was full, 
 and flooded the earth with its cold, beautiful, mysterious 
 light. From the neighboring forest came the intermittent 
 hoot of the Great Horned Owl, sounding with a sepulchral 
 resonance suggestive of ghosts. To-day is the ideal Novem- 
 ber day clear, crisp, and invigorating. How can melan- 
 choly live in the ozone of an autumn day, which must fill all 
 life with young hope, new strength, and the feeling of the 
 power of accomplishment. This morning the frost lay white 
 and shimmering on the fields. All day long it has been 
 fleeing from the assaults of the sunbeam arrows, till now it 
 holds its position only in the fastnesses of the deepest shade. 
 This is the day for an outdoor ramble and an open air 
 carouse with Nature. Let housed thoughts stay at home. 
 Care and sorrow are mostly indoor creatures. A light heart 
 lives under the open sky. 
 
 But there are rainy days in November dark gloomy 
 days when the wind howls as though in anger at not being 
 able to drive the cold rain even into the fire on your hearth, 
 and quench its warmth and brightness. The outlook is 
 dreary and forbidding: one might stand the wind, or even 
 the rain, and venture out of doors ; but the combination of 
 both is enough to put a damper on the courage of Nature's 
 most enthusiastic lover. 
 
 On such a day there seems by contrast a profounder joy 
 and contentment in indoor pleasures. The circle of thought 
 and action is circumscribed within the walls of your cham- 
 ber ; the resources of one's individuality are concentrated,
 
 NOVEMBER. 151 
 
 and a greater charm and intensity seem to result to them. 
 The home, the fireside, the domestic joys are heightened, and 
 glow in their truest radiance. The chill November blast 
 fans the flame of home life and love into fuller, larger ex- 
 pansiveness. Every shriek of the tempest, every mad, 
 impetuous dash of the rain against the window brings the 
 house-gods in closer circle around our fire. The wind's 
 wild paean sounds a reveille for pleasant meditation. We 
 draw a wrap around our mental selves, as it were, and 
 settle down in passive enjoyment and impressibility. 
 Thought is given a liberal leash, and straying off into the 
 laud of dreams, comes back to us full-handed with treasures 
 gathered in its wanderings. 
 
 On a rainy day at home a man is apt to evince the deep- 
 est yet most seldom revealed characteristics of his nature. 
 At such a time he puts off and lays aside his world- 
 nature the external coverings of character which he must 
 need don to fight the every-day battle of life and his truer 
 individuality is disclosed. In business you see a man as he 
 is in the world, but at home you see him as he is in his 
 heart. Every man has a dual nature, the sentimental and 
 the practical : every man leads two lives, the business life 
 and the home life : one is the conventional, artificial life ; 
 the other is the real, the natural life. Sentiment does not 
 do for the world: it is a tender flower which must be 
 cherished in the home. Yet the work of the world is but a 
 preparing of the soil for the flower of sentiment. After the 
 crying needs of life have been met, sentiment is what the 
 right hearted strive for. That there are exceptions ; that 
 some, losing sight of the immediate, become absorbed in
 
 152 STUBS OF TIME. 
 
 the mediate, does not lessen the general truth. Home 
 should be the conservatory of sentiment, but the delicate 
 plants are not likely to bloom and flourish unless tended 
 with that care that comes only from a loving woman's heart. 
 Woman is, or should be, man's home guard, the pro- 
 tector and keeper of his heart-treasures. She should pro- 
 mote and enlarge the interests of sentiment, while he looks 
 after those of commerce. Woman stands for sentiment, 
 man for practicality : the happy blending and harmonizing 
 of the two should be one of life's aims. Marriage and wed- 
 ded life without sentiment is always a failure. It is that 
 alone which can make the union a " holy bond," and a 
 sacred institution. So, too, life without sentiment is cold, 
 barren and desolate. It is that only which raises man 
 above the brute. In it are founded all the higher, nobler 
 aspirations of the human soul. 
 
 A gloomy day is very conducive to an abandonment of 
 one's self to mental pleasures. All other forms of energy 
 are conserved, and the full voltage of the vital forces are 
 turned into the mind. Out of doors there is nothing to be 
 done nothing to dissipate the pleasing currents of indoor 
 thought. One feels that one must find employment and 
 amusement indoors, and the consciousness of this seems to 
 bring satisfaction. Contentment is often the child of com- 
 pulsion, especially among those restive persons who always 
 imagine they might be doing something better. And re- 
 striction frequently proves the prime factor in the accom- 
 plishment of great results. It is necessary to bring the 
 sun's rays to a focus before the intense heat is generated. 
 The imprisonment of John Bunyan gave the world The
 
 NOVEMBER. 153 
 
 Pilgrim's Progress. Milton's blindness was the inspiration 
 of Paradise Lost. When the light of the world was cut off, 
 he looked into his soul and wrote what he read there. In 
 the flood of the sun's light he had not seen the sublimest 
 visions of his own heart, but, as the cloud of blindness ob- 
 scured that light, the flame of his genius flared up in its true 
 radiance and proportions. Constraint and circumscription 
 are often necessary in order for us to see, understand, and 
 appreciate the latent truths of our nature, also its dormant 
 powers. The prisoner learns to love the little mouse which 
 creeps from the crevice of the wall, to nibble the crumbs on 
 the floor, and for the first time he realizes the sympathy, 
 comradeship, and kinship that exist between all things 
 created. The flower when stripped of all other buds yields 
 a most glorious efflorescence in the one which is left. Cur- 
 tailment and suppression of many forces results in the con- 
 centration and strength of one. Affliction and deformity 
 have often borne the rarest fruits with which life is en- 
 riched. 
 
 Slippers, an easy chair, a dressing gown, a big open wood 
 fire, and some good books these inside, and outside, a 
 raw, gusty, November day, with the wind chasing the fallen 
 wet leaves across the bleak stretches of lawn and meadow, 
 catching them, anon, and whirling them in mad gyrations 
 till they fall breathless in the thickets and fence corners. 
 And then for a day of solid comfort and enjoyment. From 
 every glance out of the window we turn again to our books 
 and fire with a deeper sense of our good cheer. If any 
 other chief element of happiness could be added to the scene, 
 perhaps it would be the gracious figure of a sweet, loving
 
 154 STUBS OF TIME. 
 
 helpmate, sitting there close enough that a look into her 
 eyes, and pleasant chat the mind's recreation may be 
 had when interest grows dull, or inspiration tardy. And 
 let the hair of this gracious presence be fair and her eyes 
 blue. The hair may be to us the summer's golden sun- 
 shine ; and her eyes April's violets. There let her sit with 
 book or needle-work, diffusing, like a goddess, the radiance 
 of home happiness about her. This last addition will give 
 practical joy and concrete philosophy to the picture. 
 Books are good enough company as a rule, but there comes a 
 time in every man's life when he wants to feel a little soft 
 warm hand in his ; when he wants to look into a pair of eyes 
 eloquent with love's mysteries, and read there things more 
 deep and true than any book can ever contain. It is well 
 enough to grapple with the abstrusities of abstract sciences 
 when one feels strong in the pride of masculine intellect, yet 
 sometimes the highest wisdom of man can do no more than 
 acknowledge its limitations, and throw itself into the arms 
 of woman's love. Her presence there would answer many 
 problems we encountered in our meditation and reading. 
 Or if they were not answered according to logic, they would 
 at least be solved according to feeling and faith, which were 
 better. Her presence would remove the cause of our vain 
 questionings, and allay the fruitless strivings of the mind. 
 How the Grordian knot of Kant's metaphysics or Spencer's 
 philosophy would be cut when we put out our arm and drew 
 the golden head to our shoulder and felt the soft cheek 
 against ours. Every pressure of hand in hand would be a 
 disentanglement of eternal mysteries. Love, if we know 
 how to interpret it, can answer every question Philosophy
 
 NOVEMBER. 155 
 
 ever asked. The mind weaves a net around itself from 
 which it can be released only by the heart. Books can en- 
 tertain ; books can ask questions ; but the riddles of life 
 must be lived and loved out. She, sitting there, will be an 
 encyclopaedia of the mysteries of human existence ; and if 
 she answers the questions of the soul with a smile or a kiss, 
 does it not suffice ? Is there aught more to be said ? 
 
 For minor touches to the picture, completing its impres- 
 sion of solid comfort and genial surroundings, let a big dog 
 be slumbering on the rug before the fire. Not a small dog 
 or cat ; not only do these lack dignity, but there is some- 
 thing about them which would not comport and harmonize 
 well with the general tone of the room. A small dog always 
 suggests sinallness, whether it be of mind, purse or heart. 
 The querulous little busy-body is out of place among the 
 grander magnitudes. So, a cat would be an incongruity in 
 the tout ensemble. A cat, some one has said, always hints 
 of mice, fleas and jealousy. Tabby, therefore, were better 
 ostracised with her unpleasant feline suggestiveness, while 
 the large canine will be left to slumber on in his strength and 
 majesty. Lying there by the hearth, he is nature tamed, 
 but unreconstructed. He brings the stolid hardihood and 
 the wild unbending individuality of the woods-into the refined 
 and artificial conventionalities of modern human life. There 
 is a sturdy, unchangeable majesty of character about him, 
 which will induce force and freshness of thought that is 
 centered upon him. 
 
 Meantime, we will browse awhile among the books. Ran- 
 dom reading, and rhapsodical writing a nibble of Shaks- 
 pere here a taste of Addison there a bite of Spencer
 
 156 STUBS OF TIME. 
 
 over yonder, now a hasty scribble of some illusory thought 
 caught from the flash of the masters' genius ; and then an 
 intermission of fire-gazing and drifting on the tide of unre- 
 stricted thought. Next a little chat with Vesta, or per- 
 chance, some love-making. Such is an ideal way to spend 
 the drear November days. 
 
 On dark days it seems most appropriate and most enjoy- 
 able to delve in the old authors. There is a fresh and racy 
 flavor about them a mellowness which like rare old wine, 
 we should reserve till we need it most when the sun is gone 
 and the earth is bleak and cold. Rainy days are the holi- 
 days of the mind ; at such times it is meet to get on a frolic 
 with the old writers. And jolly good company they are, 
 with their ruffs and small clothes, their periwigs and powder, 
 their knee buckles and snuff boxes. And a ready sentiment 
 they have for your mood no matter what it may be. If 
 Herrick give us a lyric, we can stand the lack of sunshine ; 
 if Fielding or Richardson will tell a tale, we will not likely 
 suffer with ennui ; and even though the weather is forbid- 
 ding, there is no reason why we should not go on a tramp 
 through Arden Forest with Will Shakspere. Or, perhaps, 
 wheezy old Dr. Johnson will amuse us for awhile by scold- 
 ing Bos well or satirizing every thing he can think of. If 
 this weary us, and we find Arden Forest not to our taste, 
 we might step into The Boar's Head Tavern and take a 
 bumper or two of rich, old English ale from the hands of 
 good Dame Quickly. Here, surely, there will be convivial- 
 ity enough to put all pessimistic ideas to route ; for East- 
 cheap, as old Stow says, " was always famous for its 
 convivial doings. The cookes cried hot ribbes of beef
 
 NOVEMBER. 157 
 
 roasted, pies well baked, and other victuals ; there was 
 clattering of pewter pots, harpe, pipe, and sawtrie." 
 " Corydon's Doleful Knell" may be appropriate after the 
 effects of the ale wear off, and then what better than a 
 stroll with dear old Izaak Walton, with rod and tackle, 
 where, as Alex. Smith says, " the streams trot through the 
 soft green meadows." When we have caught enough fish, 
 Markham, with his " Country Contentments," may tell us 
 what next to do, unless Carewor Suckling in their inimitable 
 way will sing us an old-time ballad or melody. If these be 
 not to our taste, Sir Thomas Cockayne's " Tretyse of 
 Hunting " may take us further into the fields and woods 
 with hawk and hound, or we might relish quaint old Peacham 
 with his " Complete Gentleman," telling us the niceties of 
 social etiquette and the proprieties of refined conduct in all 
 matters relative to respectable living. 
 
 As the sun goes down the winds are lulled, the clouds 
 break in the west, and the effulgent splendor of an autumn 
 sunset glows red and golden behind the woods. It is like 
 the last scene of a beautiful tableau : the rich but subdued 
 lights illume the cheerless landscape, magically transform- 
 ing it into picturesque beauty. The gaunt trees stand out 
 bold and rugged against the brightening sky with a rough 
 but graphic grace. Draw the blinds : light the lamp : stir 
 the fire, and put on another big log. Take down the books 
 you love best, the abiding friends of the ages, and let the 
 hours till bed-time be spent in the companionship of the 
 Great. For the lingering charm of the long winter evening 
 has come with the late November days.
 
 158 STUBS OF TIME. 
 
 MISTRESS CARRINGTON OF VIRGINIA. 
 
 The South lost millions of dollars by the abolition of 
 slavery, but its greatest loss has been the passing away of 
 those high and noble phases of southern life whose existence 
 the institution of slavery made possible. 
 
 The war came as a fell blow upon southern life and cus- 
 toms, crushing, demolishing, changing forever. It swept 
 away the conditions under which those types of southern 
 chivalry, high, honorable manhood, true, refined, and cul- 
 tured womanhood, generated, grew, and flourished. The 
 war with its cannon balls and bullets, its fire, its blood, 
 harvest of death, and devastation meant more than the free- 
 dom of the negro more than the preservation of the Union ; 
 it also marked the commencement of a period of painful 
 and labored transition in a large part of the national life. It 
 meant the advance and ultimate establishment of commer- 
 cialism where formerly sentiments of chivalry, honor, high 
 ideals, broad-hearted generosity, and gracious hospitality 
 obtained ; it necessitated a change in a people's ideals ; an 
 extinction of certain modes of their life, and an overthrow 
 of their customs and traditions. 
 
 Under the institution of slavery, there grew up in certain 
 portions of the South a form of aristocracy which in many 
 aspects has been unequaled in the history of the world.
 
 HAD TAKEN DOWN THE GUN OP HIS FORKFATHERS.
 
 MISTRESS CARRINGTON OF VIRGINIA. 159 
 
 Far greater wealth there is, and has been greater ease, 
 greater luxury, greater pomp and ostentation. But for 
 real gentility and elegance of living, genuine graciousness 
 of heart and hospitality ; for chivalry and gallantry ; for 
 refinement, polish and culture ; for integrity of character, 
 and for the sterling, unassuming virtues of home life, the 
 antebellum South has probably never been excelled in the 
 world, certainly not in America. 
 
 I remember it was in the latter fifties that I went to spend 
 the Christmas with Colonel John Byrd Carrington at his 
 home, Huntington Hall, on the Mattapony river in tide- 
 water Virginia. My father, Macon Cotesworth, whose name 
 I bear, was a cotton planter of South Carolina, and he and 
 the Colonel, while at the University of Virginia together, had 
 been great friends and chums. My father always cherished 
 a great love for his Alma Mater, and in his will he directed 
 that I, when arrived at a proper age, should be sent there 
 to complete my education. And my mother, upon .whom 
 fell the management of the estate, true to the wishes of her 
 dear husband and ever ready to indulge her children in 
 all that was right for I, too, from my early teens, was 
 ambitious to become a student at that noble institution 
 founded by Jefferson as soon as I was of sufficient years, 
 sent me to the University of Virginia. 
 
 Colonel Carrington, having seen my name in the cata- 
 logue, wrote to me, asking if I were not the son of his old 
 friend of Clinton Mount in South Carolina. Upon my re- 
 plying that I was, I received a most cordial letter from the 
 Colonel, asking me that I spend the coming Christmas at his 
 home ; that the partridge shooting was excellent, and he
 
 160 STUBS OF TIME. 
 
 had two fine Irish setters; that the fall apple crop had been 
 unusually good, and the annual output of apple brandy was 
 greater in amount, and better in flavor than he had known 
 it for years. Besides this, he said that he had a little house- 
 keeper who could make very drinkable egguog ; that there 
 was a likelihood of a pretty gay Christmas that he didn't 
 take the interest in such things that he did some thirty 
 years back, but he had heard rumors of several parties 
 and frolics in the neighborhood ; that there was a very good 
 fiddler among his own negroes, and the floor of his main 
 hall was always well waxed. 
 
 He also went on to say that one of the negro boys on the 
 place had reported the discovery of a big bee-tree down in 
 the river woods, and he had planned to cut down, and take 
 it some day during the Christmas holidays. And everything 
 being considered, he went on to say, he thought I might 
 manage, if I were anything like the young men of his day, 
 to amuse myself for awhile, and at the same time give him 
 the pleasure of meeting and entertaining the son and name- 
 sake of his dearest old college friend. 
 
 I wrote to my mother enclosing the Colonel's letter, and 
 asked her what I had better do. She replied that though it 
 would be a great disappointment to her not to have me home 
 Christmas ; yet she thought if my dear father was living, 
 that he would like above all things for me to meet his old 
 friend, and go to his house ; that she did not want to be 
 selfish ; and that as Colonel Carrington, she believed, was a 
 lonely widower, it would be a great pleasure to him to have 
 me at his house ; and that if I wanted to, she thought I 
 had better go.
 
 MISTRESS CARRINGTON OF VIRGINIA. 161 
 
 My mother having written in this way, and the Colonel's 
 hinted inducements being very much to my liking, it is 
 needless to say that it did not take me long to decide what 
 to do. Of course I regretted not seeing my mother at 
 Christmas, but when one is twenty, the months have wings, 
 and I knew the rest of the session would glide away, and it 
 would not be long before commencement. 
 
 A day or two before Christmas, having packed my car- 
 pet bag, and said good-bye and a merry Christmas to the 
 professors and all my friends, I went to the Charlottesville 
 station and took the train for the Colonel's. 
 
 At the station all was bustle and confusion and jollity. 
 Cheers, and good-byes, and halloos, and singing could be 
 heard on all sides. Crowds of the students the flower of 
 the South were going home for the holidays ; and most 
 of them, like myself, were in great spirits. There, among 
 them, were sons of Louisiana sugar planters tall, lithe, 
 and handsome brunettes, their dark, expressive eyes, and 
 general appearance bespeaking a strain of Creole blood in 
 their veins. Some of them were accompanied by their 
 negro body-servant, who, besides carrying his master's 
 handbag and satchel, carried also, in several instances, I 
 noticed, his guitar or banjo. There, too, were the young 
 representatives of many stately mansions of the Georgia and 
 Alabama cotton plantations ; also sons of wealthy and 
 aristocratic Virginia planters and tobacco growers ; and 
 even two tall, fair, big-limbed young giants from the far 
 west blue grass regions of Kentucky. These latter I knew 
 quite well, and they told me that a good part of the journey 
 home they had to make in carriages ; but they didn't mind 
 
 11
 
 162 STUBS OF TIME. 
 
 it as time was no matter to them, and they drove their 
 thoroughbreds at a full gallop. They were fine manly 
 fellows, never so much at home as when on a horse. 
 Though somewhat rough, and not as cultured and polished 
 as the more eastern students, they had a hardy independ- 
 ence, and certain straightforward freedom of speech and 
 bearing that was quite as attractive. They were rather 
 wild fellows, sticking together, and standing by each other, 
 and had given the Faculty considerable trouble until one of 
 them fell in love with Professor Rieves's daughter, and 
 that seemed to soften and civilize him so he wouldn't join 
 the other in his devilment; and thus their clique was 
 broken up. I always thought that Clara Rieves liked him 
 right well, too, and that she, fearing he might be expelled, 
 exerted all her influence on him to tame him down. Still, 
 I never was certain one never could tell Clara, like 
 most of the University girls, was such a sly little coquette, 
 she seemed to like everybody : she could pull the wool over 
 a fellow's eyes in five minutes and make him think she liked 
 him best of all on earth. There were probably fifty students 
 in college who would have sworn to their last drop of blood 
 that they were the fortunate possessor of Clara's heart. 
 
 These two young Kentuckians, true to the traditions of 
 their native State, not infrequently indulged in strong 
 potations, and though I cannot say from personal knowl- 
 edge, as I kept company with carousers very little myself, 
 and only then on special occasions seldom taking anything 
 but my gentlemanly julep, it was reputed that they, after 
 having imbibed more, could keep a clearer head and steadier 
 gait than any of the students in college.
 
 MISTRESS CARRINGTON OF VIRGINIA. 163 
 
 I shall never forget the spree they got on that night after 
 the intermediate examination in Coke upon Littleton. They 
 were both studying law most of the Kentuckians did in 
 those days and they had been working hard, and keeping 
 themselves close for some weeks previous, preparing for the 
 examination. After it was all over, they thought it be- 
 holden to themselves to go in for a little relaxation, and 
 they did to an extreme degree. Their room on West Range 
 was their base of action, and there they collected a party of 
 comrades with tastes and feelings congenial to their own, and 
 organized what, in those days, was known as a Calathump ; 
 being nothing more than a body of masked students banded 
 together in hilarious disorder for purposes of midnight mis- 
 chief and orgies. Such bauds were usually more or less under 
 the influence of reverent liquors, and thus were actuated by 
 motives of dare-devil glee and frolicsomeness. They were 
 not uncommon in those days, these Calathumps, coming 
 almost invariably after examinations, and being much 
 dreaded by the professors. For it was not infrequent that 
 these gangs forgot themselves as young gentlemen, and 
 went too far in their boisterous, boyish mischief-making, 
 and became very disorderly and riotous. Pistols and guns 
 were sometimes fired on the ranges and lawns, and stones 
 were thrown, to the often destruction of the University 
 lamps, and the imperilment of life and limb, not only of the 
 casual passer-by, but even of the revellers themselves. 
 Jokes, more practical and provoking than humorous, were 
 frequently committed. The poor old venerable University 
 clock and bell being the never failing butts of these tricks 
 when more favorable subjects did not present themselves.
 
 164 STUBS OF TIME. 
 
 They suffered most when through extreme maudliness, or 
 for other reasons, the frolickers were unimaginative. When 
 minds worked well, there was generally something more 
 original and better to do than to ring the bell, or steal its 
 tongue, or to shoot at the clock, and take off its hands. 
 Minds pregnant with genius and ideas, could devise and 
 execute something more startling more sensational. Then 
 it would be that the Chairman's pet riding horse, in the dim 
 hours of the night, would be taken from his stall, shaved, 
 and painted blue. Or the fire pump might be brought from 
 its house, and the hose having been applied, a professor's 
 bell would be rung ; and when that dignified personage in 
 nightcap and dressing gown appeared at his door to see who 
 was the midnight visitor, he would be greeted and probably 
 knocked down by a powerful stream of ice-cold water. 
 
 On one occasion, a large number of bee hives belonging 
 to an unpopular professor, had been brought, and broken 
 open, and left at their owner's door ; after the honey, with 
 due care and a paint brush had been smeared all over the 
 doorknob, the door, the veranda and a good part of the entire 
 house front. 
 
 The bees, like their owner, were of a rather irascible na- 
 ture, and the next morning, after their night of unrest and 
 violation, were in no compromising mood, but swarmed in 
 enraged multitudes around the Professor's house, vindic- 
 tively attacking all that came near. 
 
 The students, at a safe distance, were watching and waiting 
 for developments. The Professor was a little late at breakfast, 
 and having finished, he hastily took up his book and notes, 
 and started in a hurry for his classroom. With his mind
 
 MISTRESS CARRINGTON OF VIRGINIA. 165 
 
 deeply immersed in the metaphysics of the day's lecture, he 
 had opened and closed his front door, and was half-way 
 across his porch before he realized the conditions, and before 
 the angry insects made their presence known. Then the 
 Professor, dropping his books and papers, made a frantic 
 dash back to his door ; but the latch had caught, and it was 
 no time to ring the door-bell or use his key. So the Pro- 
 fessor dashed out of the porch, clearing the steps at a bound, 
 and rushed out on the lawn. There, for some moments, he 
 executed a series of wild dances and gesticulations, slapping 
 furiously at the bees ; and finally, seeing the near-by base- 
 ment door of Dr. Peyton's house open, he rushed madly 
 through it, followed by a stream of bees, and burst in on the 
 Peyton famil}- at breakfast, frightening them very much in- 
 deed. For by this time, his face had become so purple and 
 swollen that they did not recognize him, but thought it was 
 some desperate crazy person intending them violence. 
 
 There was no lecture in metaphysics that day ; and even 
 the next day, while the Professor, making a brave effort, 
 managed to occupy his accustomed chair, yet his face was 
 still so blotched, puckered and swollen, that he very much 
 resembled a clown, and he found great difficulty in maintain- 
 ing in his class that order and dignity which is so necessary 
 a prerequisite to the proper study of the worthy and learned 
 science of metaphysics. 
 
 For several succeeding days the Professor and his family 
 were in a most inconvenient state of practical quarantine, 
 and could issue from their house ouh' when well enveloped 
 in mosquito netting. It was a source of much amusement 
 to the heedless doers of this mischief to watch the grave
 
 166 STUBS OF TIME. 
 
 instructor coming out of his house all wrapped in veiling as 
 a bride. The smell of the honey about the house attracted 
 even the wild bees from the mountains, some of which latter, 
 not being accustomed to persons and the ways of mankind, 
 were disposed to be even more vicious than those that were 
 partly domesticated, and they resented fiercely any interfer- 
 ence of their business. 
 
 At last, as their numbers and the inconvenience they 
 caused increased, a body of the University servants, well 
 protected in netting, was sent to combat and drive them 
 away with water and sulphur fumes. This expedient proved 
 very effective. The honey was washed and scoured from the 
 Professor's premises and the bees were driven away to return 
 no more. 
 
 However, I believe I was going to talk about that big 
 spree those two young scions of Kentucky got on. As I 
 was saying, they organized a Calathump, and their first evil 
 deed was to intercept and make drunk the University janitor 
 who happened to be returning at a late hour from the per- 
 formance of some of his duties. This janitor, Jefferson 
 Martin, was quite a character and a respected one about 
 the University in those days. He had one weakness, how- 
 ever, which was an uncontrollable love for strong drink. He 
 had belonged to Thomas Jefferson, and was born on the 
 Monticello Place. He remembered his old master very well, 
 .being in his teens when that great man died. We all knew 
 him as Unc' Jeff, and would often get him to recount to us 
 his recollections of Mr. Jefferson. He was very aristocratic 
 in his ideas, and proud and dignified in his bearing ; there 
 was a certain native stateliness about him which commanded
 
 MISTRESS CARRINGTON OF VIRGINIA. 167 
 
 respect, and which he had in common with so many of the 
 old-time darkies. 
 
 To me, who was raised among, and knew so well the negroes 
 of the old days before the war, and loved and respected many 
 of them, it is a sad thing to contemplate the changes that have 
 taken place in their characters and individuality since all the 
 rights of freedom and full citizenship have been given them. 
 I would not have slavery again ; but as slaves, it seems to 
 me, the negro occupied a sphere which was more in accord- 
 ance with the preordained laws of the universe. He can 
 never become as a white man God and nature have de- 
 creed otherwise and it seems to me that slavery, as I saw 
 it, suited the nature of the negro, and he was happier under 
 it than he has ever been since. His nature is that of a 
 child, careless, light-hearted, improvident. Under slavery, 
 he was guarded, protected, supported, and treated as a child. 
 My father never bought or sold a slave in his life, and it was 
 very seldom he allowed one to be whipped except under such 
 circumstances as he would have chastised his own son. 
 
 Very few of them are left now these old-time types of 
 darkey. We will find them here and there in isolated spots 
 of the South. You will recognize him at sight ; he haunts 
 the plantations of his old masters ; his head and beard are as 
 white as cotton ; he lives in his cabin with his helpmate, as 
 ancient, as proud, as sterling and respectable as himself. 
 In a shuck-bottom chair, he sits before his door in the sun- 
 shine, and smokes in a corncob pipe tobacco of his own 
 gro wing, while he muses on the good old times. On the side 
 of his cabin, there hang coon and rabbit skins and long 
 strings of red pepper. There are pumpkins, beans, and
 
 168 STUBS OF TIME. 
 
 gourds in his little garden ; and in the small plat before the 
 house devoted to flowers, there are sunflowers and some old- 
 fashioned rose and calacanthus bushes ; some blue flags and 
 purple zinnias. He probably has an ox, or, perhaps, a dilap- 
 idated old horse with which he works his small plantings 
 and makes his meagre living. He believes firmly in ghosts 
 and spirits, in " conjering," and in the efficacy of calamus 
 root and various herbs and simples to cure sundry ailments 
 of the flesh. If there is a church or college near, you may 
 be sure he is the sexton of one, or the janitor of the other. 
 Maybe, too, he does a little cobbling for the neighborhood or 
 making of baskets and flagging of chairs. 
 
 When you speak to him he will address you as ' ' Marsa ' ' 
 or " Misis," according to your sex. He has no use for the 
 generation of negroes which has grown up "since the war. 
 He regards them as affected with the stigma that attached to 
 the antebellum " free nigger." 
 
 " Dey ain't got no sense," he says, " and ain' fittin fur 
 nothin' 'cept jail-birds. Dey gits er little edgycation in de 
 heads, and dey think dey know so much dey won't have to 
 wuk. I ain't got no use fur 'em dey ain't got no man- 
 ners, and dey ain' 'spectable, and dey's lazy and good-fur- 
 nothin', and you can't tell um nothin' 'cause dey think dey 
 know it already." 
 
 Ask him if he has been happier since the war, and he will 
 tell you: " Naw, my Gawd, dat I ain't. Fo' de war, I 
 had somebody to take keer me, and worry 'bout me, and 
 now I have to take keer and worry 'bout myse'f. I didn't 
 worry 'bout nothin' fo' de war ; I had to wuk, but den I
 
 MISTRESS CARRINGTON OF VIRGINIA. 169 
 
 knowed when de wuk was done, I was gwi' git plenty to 
 eat, and dat Marsa was gwi' look af me." 
 
 Well, as I was saying, the Calathumpers caught Unc' Jeff 
 and beguiled him with their libations. Unc' Jeff would 
 always demur a little to taking the first drink, as he was 
 fully conscious of his weakness, but after the first, it was 
 easier to get him to take a second, still easier to take a 
 third, and after the fourth, the demurring ceased altogether, 
 and he became ready and willing, as long as he could stand, 
 to take, like a rat-hole, all that was poured into him. 
 
 " Y'all ought not to 'tempter ole nigger lek me, "he would 
 say, " I's er daicon in de Chuch. De las' time you gin 
 me some, you know I took a leetle too much, and some of 
 de Elders talked 'bout turnin' me out of de Chuch fur back- 
 slidin'. I thanks you, young marsters, but de ole man 
 don' b'lieve he'll take any to-night." 
 
 "All right, Unc' Jeff," the merry-makers would say, 
 " we are very sorry you don't care for any, we thought 
 perhaps a little would do the old man good ; but of course if 
 you don't want any we won't insist." 
 
 Then he would have a protracted coughing spell. When 
 he recovered his breath, he would say in a feeble voice : 
 
 " I's much o'bleeged to y' all young marsters, (coughs) 
 but I don' reggin I'll take any (coughs). Hit smell mighty 
 good, doh, and I spec twould loosen up dis cough (coughs) ; 
 and I had de misery in my side all day : I spec 'twould do 
 dat good, too ; and it always do hep my rheumatiz. If you 
 jes po' me out a leetle tech un it jes 'nough to loosen up 
 dis cough, I b'lieve I'll try it." 
 
 I regret to say it, but it was a favorite thing for some of
 
 170 STUBS OF TIME. 
 
 the wilder students in college to do this intoxicating of 
 Uncle Jeff. There was some reason for it, for the old darkey 
 was certainly very amusing and entertaining when partially 
 inebriated ; but of course this did not justify such scape- 
 goat misdoings. Ordinarily, while sober, Uncle Jeff was 
 dignified, not very talkative, very courteous, and rather 
 philosophic. But give him drink, and he passed through a 
 series of interesting changes of temperament. The stu- 
 dents knew and recognized three distinct stages of his 
 intoxication. 
 
 There was, first, the talkative stage, which he entered 
 after three or four drinks, and which was very interesting to 
 us students, as then he would tell us of the experiences of 
 his early youth and young manhood, and of his recollec- 
 tions about Mr. Jefferson, and the old days at Montecello. 
 He always apotheosized Mr. Jefferson , whom he ranked next 
 to " Ole Marster in Hebben, de Lawd hissef." 
 
 " Yas Lawd," I remember hearing him say," I done 
 black Marse Tom's shoes mo' times dan I kin count dat 
 I is." 
 
 Uncle Jeff's next stage, after some half-dozen drinks, was 
 the oratorical period. In this, he always manifested a tend- 
 ency to get up on some high perch, and straighten up and 
 throw his shoulders back. He had heard Henry Clay speak 
 some years before in one of the presidential campaigns, and 
 he was the exemplar of Uncle Jeff's oratorical efforts. 
 
 " Ladies and gentmuns, len' me yo' yers," he would say, 
 which was generally as far as he got before he asked for 
 another drink. " Hoi' on, gimme one mo', and I'll show 
 you de way Marse Hinry Clay done. Marse Hinry, he
 
 MISTRESS CARRINGTON OF VIRGINIA. 171 
 
 started out jes in datway; he started out kinder quiet, 
 soft and sweet lek, but in er little while, he riz up and 
 got louder, an' hit 'peared lek dyar was suppin in him whar 
 was gwi buss him open if he didn't let it out. But he riz 
 higher, and he let it out so fas' and smooth and sweet lek, 
 dat it come nearer to bustin de crowd open dan it did him. 
 He put me in min' of er gre't barr'l of syrup 'lasses all 
 bubblin an' bilin' over, gettin' hotter and mo' bubbly all de 
 time, till its most singin' and you spec it every minute to 
 bile clean over and sweep you 'way on er sweet roarin' 
 flood. Yas, Lawd, I didn't understan' much un it, but 
 I could jes feel 'twas gran'. Dyar was suppin 'bout it dat 
 made me feel kinder skeered and happy. Dyar was suppin 
 in his viece dat sounded lek thunder and pretty music all 
 mixed up togedder till you couldn't tell which was on top." 
 
 Having delivered himself of his afflatus of eloquence, if 
 the drinks were still supplied, Uncle Jeff entered into his 
 third stage of drunkenness. This was one of song and 
 merriment the highwater mark of his intoxication, be- 
 fore he lapsed into drowsy stupor. Now he would sing at 
 the top of his voice all the old darkey songs and ballads 
 which he had heard and learned in childhood. With a wild, 
 though often not unmusical cadence, he would render the 
 negro melodies of harvest and corn-shucking times, and 
 occasionally, too, would give a weird chant such as they 
 sang at negro revivals. 
 
 The singing would gradually subside, becoming less 
 spirited, then broken and incoherent; finally ceasing alto- 
 gether. Then he was ready to drop over anywhere ; and
 
 172 STUBS OF TIME. 
 
 the students would take charge of him to see that he came 
 to no hurt. 
 
 The young Kentuckians at the head of the Calathump, 
 having put Uncle Jeff to bed, after seeing him through his 
 several stages, next went and caught a cow, and tied her 
 with a long rope to Professor Beverley's doorbell. 
 
 Professor Beverley was a fractious old bachelor of a 
 very hasty temper, who in dealing with mischievous stu- 
 dents, never knew how to exercise the smallest degree of 
 tact or diplomacy ; but when pranks were played on him , 
 would fly off into a towering rage, which seldom did any- 
 thing but make him ridiculous, and the students more 
 disposed to practice their tricks on him. 
 
 He had been very much irritated and annoyed for some 
 time past by having his doorbell rung at all hours of the 
 night, and stones thrown at his house, and squalling cats 
 tied to a pole and thrust up at his window. This sort of a 
 thing had put him in a state of chronic ill-temper ; and a 
 few days since, after a night of perturbance, he had got up 
 before his class in high dudgeon and told them that he had 
 endured, and beseeched, and reproved long enough ; that 
 now he was going to warn. He told them that he had taken 
 down from its rack in the hall the musket of his forefathers, 
 and had loaded it with bird-shot ; and intended to discharge 
 it point-blank at the next midnight molester of his premises 
 and disturber of his rest. 
 
 On the night of which we speak, the Professor being 
 awakened by the spasmodic ringing of his bell, true to his 
 word, and muttering imprecations against the whole race of 
 students, shuffled out of bed, and took down his trusty
 
 MISTRESS CARRINGTON OF VIRGINIA. 173 
 
 flintlock. Noiselessly, with gun in hand all cocked and 
 primed, he stole through his hall, and opening the outer 
 door peered out into the darkness. The bell hadn't rung 
 since he got out of bed, but now as he stood there, on the 
 alert for sight and sound such as would locate the target for 
 his load, the innocent cow, peacefully grazing, again drew 
 the rope taut, and the bell jingled. Gnashing his teeth in 
 rage, and yet feeling exultant, now that he thought his ven- 
 geance would fall upon the wicked doers, the Professor put 
 out his hand, and started to follow the rope. Crouching 
 low, he stealthily crept on until he could just see the dark, 
 unrecognizable figure of the cow moving before him. " Halt ! 
 or I'll fire," he shouted, but there was no reply. " Halt! 
 who goes there? speak, or I'll shoot," he said again. But 
 still no answer. Meantime, the cow, hearing these savage 
 tones, and seeing the nondescript figure approaching, became 
 alarmed, and started to run, ringing the bell violently again. 
 This apparent contempt and boldness was too much for the 
 Professor, and, in great anger, he raised his gun, and fired. 
 The shot took effect in the cow's flanks, wounding her 
 severely, but not seriously. In Jier pain and fright she 
 broke the rope and dashed away down the lawn and disap- 
 peared. Nor did the Professor know of his blunder until 
 the next day, when a warrant was served on him by the 
 owner of the cow for the willful and reckless shooting of his 
 animal : and the frightful rage of the Professor was not les- 
 sened by the fact that the case went against him, and he 
 had to pay the man a goodly sum in damages.
 
 174 STUBS OF TIME. 
 
 II. 
 
 Before I digressed, however, (we old men do 30 love to 
 reminisce and ramble) I was saying that I took the train at 
 Charlottesville for Colonel Carrington's depot, White Hall. 
 
 It was a gay lot on the train that day, and we had sing- 
 ing, and playing of the violin, banjo, and guitar, all the way 
 down. Out through the beautiful foot-hills of Albermarle 
 we sped, the foot-hills that were now not so blue as usual, 
 as snow to the depth of several inches lay on the ground. 
 Then, on to the rich and fertile Piedmont section of 
 Virginia. 
 
 At no station did we leave the people in doubt as to who 
 was passing. We made noise enough to let all the country- 
 side know that the University students were going home for 
 Christmas. Of course, to one at my time of life, all that 
 looks childish now, but I remember how I enjoyed it then : 
 I remember how we flirted, and smiled, and threw kisses at 
 all the pretty girls we saw at the wayside stations. And 
 they took it well too, for everybody was in a holiday spirit, 
 and would smile back and wave their kerchiefs at us. 
 
 Toward sundown, the train stopped at White Hall, and 
 taking up my baggage, I bid adieu to those of my friends 
 who were aboard the train, and stepped off. 
 
 I had barely gotten on the ground, when a very black 
 young darkey came up, and removing his cap, and bowing 
 low, said : 
 
 " Is dis de young Marsa f'om de Vusity, whar's gwine to 
 Marse John Carrington's? " 
 
 " Yes," I answered, " I am Mr. Macon Cotesworth."
 
 MISTRESS CARRINGTON OF VIRGINIA. 175 
 
 "Dat's de name, Marsa," he said, "I fergot to 'member 
 it, but dat's de name. My name is Junius, and I's Marse 
 John's kerredge driver, and I done come af ' you ; hyah's 
 de kerredge with Buck and Nell, over hyah." 
 
 He took my carpet bag, and conducted me to the vehicle, 
 a cumbersome, but cosy rockaway or coach, which was in 
 general use among the best Southern families in those days. 
 
 It was a drive of some ten miles to Huntington Hall, a 
 good part of the way being in full sight of the meandering 
 and picturesque Mattapony. Its snow-covered marshes 
 and flocks of wild ducks, its wildernesses of purple gum 
 trees, and its floating ice, were all objects of interest to me, 
 who was accustomed to a more southern landscape. 
 
 Junius, with a little encouragement, proved very talka- 
 tive, and narrated in his rough, but graphic, style, some 
 very interesting episodes of his adventures as a 'coon and 
 'possum hunter. With a little leading, I got him to talk 
 on spirits, and "evils," and " Jack-rnah-lanterns," and of 
 the various negro superstitions. 
 
 Wishing to know something more about my host, and the 
 place I was visiting, I discreetly questioned him concerning 
 the general life and habits of his master whether he had 
 any family, and so on. 
 
 " He ain' got no fambly," Junius said, " 'ceptin he one 
 daughter, Miss Anna, whar lives wid him, and do de house- 
 keepin'. She's a case too, Miss Anna is, she ain't feered o' 
 nothiu', and kin manage anything f'om er wild horse, clean 
 up to Marse John hissef." 
 
 "Ah," I thought to myself, " she must be the little 
 housekeeper the Colonel wrote me of that could make the
 
 176 STUBS OF TIME. 
 
 good eggnog." And aloud: " She's all the family the 
 Colonel has, is she? " 
 
 " Yas, young Marsa, she is all. Ole Miss been died years 
 ago, and Marse John got er housekeeper and er teacher 
 fur Miss Anna fur awhile ; but now she done growed so, he 
 done let dem go, and Miss Anna do de housekeeping and 
 Marse John he do teach her hissef . Some folks say dat dey 
 spec Marse John was gwi' git rnerried ergin ; but my pappy, 
 Zack, whar is de butler, he heered Marse John hissef tell 
 Dr. Waller one day while dey was a-drinkin' dyar juleps, 
 dat he didn't never spec to git merried long as he had Miss 
 Anna wid him : dat he didn't hev but one heart, and dat 
 he had done gin dat to his chile wid all de love 'twould hoi' ; 
 and he wanted her to keep it widout havin' to 'vide it wid 
 no stepmother. Miss Anna, she de very bref of life of 
 Marse John." 
 
 " How old is she, Junius? " 
 
 " Somewhargwine on eighteen or nineteen, I reggin, suh." 
 
 ' ' And pretty is she ? ' ' 
 
 " Lawd Marsa, dat she is de prettiest thing you ever 
 seed. She always put me in min' of dat angel on de Chris- 
 mus cyard whar Marse John gin Mammy. She's jes lovely, 
 hit wouldn't s'prise me to see de white wings come a- 
 sproutin' f'om her shoulders anytime. Naw, suh, dat 
 'twouldn't. She got er face what look lek it ain' never 
 made up its min' whether it gwi' to be er snowdrap or er 
 peach blossom ; and her eyes is jes swimmin' in glory." 
 
 This was getting interesting ; and I felt my heart beat a 
 stroke or two faster as I heard this striking description of 
 young Mies Carrington's charms.
 
 MISTRESS CARRINGTON OF VIRGINIA. 177 
 
 I found myself wondering if my shoes were well cleaned, 
 and if the part in my hair had become obliterated during the 
 careless trip down. I regretted that I had not put on my 
 best silk stock, and my vest with the embroidered flowers 
 on it. 
 
 The evening was cold ; the snow lay white on the fields, 
 and though in the road it had been trodden down and 
 packed, as night fell, and the cold increased, it became 
 slippery, and Junius had to exercise care in guiding Buck 
 and Nell. They were well shod, but the crusty snow, and 
 flinty ice in the small pools were apt to cut their ankles, 
 making it necessary that we go at no great speed. The 
 horses were spirited, but Junius seemed to have them under 
 perfect control. He would speak to them as he would to a 
 child, coaxiug, reproving, and exhorting, and even appeal- 
 ing to their conscience and sense of reason. 
 
 " Now, Buck," he would say, " whyncher draw dat trace 
 tighter? You know you ain' doin' yo' sheer; you lettin' 
 Nell do mos' of de pullin' ; you ought not to 'pose on wim- 
 min folks lek dat ain't you 'shamed of yo' sef. Hit's 
 gittiii' late, and Marse John will be waitin' supper, and gittin' 
 uneasy 'bout us prezny." 
 
 In spite of my warm overcoat and the Colonel's buffalo 
 robes, I was getting cold, and as we turned from the main 
 road and rattled across a bridge, I was glad to see the lights 
 of Huntingtou Hall gleaming some several hundred yards 
 ahead. 
 
 The road into the farm was free from ice and snow, and 
 the horses spurred up, and we covered the intervening dis- 
 tance at a lively gait, drawing up in a little while at the big 
 
 12
 
 178 STUBS OF TIME. 
 
 gate that opened into the lawn. Several small negroes, 
 having heard us coming, had ran out to open the gate, and 
 in the darkness, we could make out their dim figures standing 
 there. 
 
 As we drove up the hill, I saw the big hall door open ; a 
 dog barked ; and there seemed to be some bustle ; then 
 several figures came out, some of them bearing lanterns. 
 They came down the gravelel walk to the yard gate, and 
 met me as I stepped out. 
 
 It was Colonel Carrington and some of his servants. The 
 Colonel came up to me, and pressing my hand warmly, gave 
 me a most cordial greeting and welcome to his house. He 
 put his hand on my shoulder, and we walked to the house 
 together. 
 
 " I am so glad you have come," he said, " and it was so 
 good of you. Your voice is exactly like your dear father's. 
 Come into the light, and let me see if you look like him 
 too." 
 
 He led me into the library and sitting-room, where in the 
 wide fireplace a great ruddy fire of logs crackled and roared 
 up the chimney, throwing a glorious warmth into the room. 
 There were a big brass fender and andirons, warm rugs and 
 great, cosy, easy-chairs, and a general aspect of sterling 
 comfort about the room, which was enough to delight the 
 heart of a chilled traveler. 
 
 "This is my little daughter, Anna," said the Colonel, 
 presenting a beautiful young girl to me. She was standing 
 poking the fire as we entered, and now came forward to 
 greet us. I bowed with dignity, the young lady bowed too ; 
 and, then, as though on second thought, extended her hand
 
 MISTRESS CARRINGTON OF VIRGINIA. 179 
 
 rather awkwardly, and I thought I saw the color deepen in 
 her cheeks, but I was not sure. 
 
 I was surprised that the Colonel should introduce her as 
 " my little daughter," for she was evidently but a year or 
 two younger than myself, and I thought that I was a very 
 much grown-up man. But I found out afterwards that the 
 Colonel had never realized that his daughter had become a 
 young woman ; and that he still looked upon her as a mere 
 child. 
 
 We drew our chairs up before the fire : 
 
 " Get close, Macon," the Colonel said, " and warm your 
 fingers and toes ; the air is nipping and frosty to-night 
 only ten above zero by my thermometer out in the porch 
 and you must be cold. You must excuse me for calling you 
 Macon, for I can't call the boy of my old chum, 'Mr.' 
 Warm yourself good, boy, and presently we'll take a little 
 apple brandy to warm the inner man. You need it after 
 your long cold drive. My child," he continued, turning 
 toward his daughter, " tell Zack to bring up the decanters 
 out of the sideboard, aud some glasses, and hot water, and 
 sugar. It is mild, Macon," he said, turning again to 
 me, " very mild just enough fire in it to drive Jack 
 Frost out of your bones, and discomfit any incipient cold 
 you may have taken during the drive. I suppose you are 
 like the young University students of my day, and know 
 how to handle the good things of life with gentlemanly 
 discretion and temperance." 
 
 The old butler, Zack, came, in a little while, with the 
 quaint cut glass decanters on a silver waiter. I noticed 
 that the waiter and spoons bore the Carrington crest a
 
 180 STUBS OF TIME. 
 
 mailed hand, a heart and an anchor, with its motto, Manu 
 forti: Virtute et fide. 
 
 " This is Zack, my butler and factotum, Macon ; he was 
 my body-servant at the University, and knew your father," 
 the Colonel said. " Zack," he went on, " this is Mr. Macon 
 Cotesworth, son of my old friend. He's like his father, 
 isn't he?" 
 
 Uncle Zack stopped, waiter in hand, and looked scruti- 
 nizingly at me. 
 
 "Lawd! Marse John," he said, " dat he is he 
 'nough lek he pa was to be his twin. I woulder knowed 
 whose son he was anywhar." 
 
 He then put a small slender-legged table between us, and 
 setting the waiter on it, went out. As he left, I heard him 
 mutter to himself : " Dat chile is sho lek he pa. Hit do 
 me good to see 'im. I spec itmek Marse John feel young 
 ergin to have him settin' dyar." 
 
 III. 
 
 That night after supper, the Colonel and I remained 
 talking by the fire till the hands of the tall corner clock 
 pointed to twelve. 
 
 Until about ten o'clock, Mistress Anna was with us, sit- 
 ting near the candles, and working desultorily on some 
 piece of fancy work. She said little, seldom speaking save 
 when a question was addressed to her ; but I noticed she 
 seemed to be eagerly listening to our conversation. She 
 seemed so modest that I felt some hesitancy in speaking to 
 her, but I found myself looking askance at her frequently,
 
 MISTRESS CARRINGTON OF VIRGINIA. 181 
 
 and the more I looked, the more I wanted to look. Yes, 
 she was indeed pretty, and I could not help thinking how 
 exceedingly appropriate was Junius's unique metaphor, 
 when he said her face looked as though it had not decided 
 whether it would be most like a snowdrop or a peach blos- 
 som. For its beauty and purity its delicate coloring, 
 and perfect symmetry were certainly suggestive of those 
 flowers. 
 
 In a little while, I found myself talking disconnectedly, 
 or listening perfunctorily and inattentively to the Colonel, 
 while my thoughts, as though attracted by a magnet, 
 would center on his daughter. She sat there with head 
 bent over, and eyes on her needle work, totally unconscious 
 of what a lovely picture she was, as the full light of the 
 candle shone on her, lighting up her every beautiful feature, 
 aud lending the lustre of spun gold to her hair. 
 
 The Colonel, however, chatted on merrily, telling of his 
 student days and hunting-trips, and never dreaming but 
 that every particle of my attention aud interest was his. 1 
 tried to keep up with him just enough to answer intelligently 
 should he ask me a question ; but as he asked very few, I 
 felt safer, and soon was stealing more glances and letting nty 
 thoughts drift more and more towards Mistress Anna. 
 Several times she caught me looking at her ; and the first 
 time, she unabashed, and openly returned my gaze, looking 
 me frankly and squarely in the eye till I shifted my sight to 
 the fire. The next time I looked toward her, I found her 
 looking at me, but her eyes dropped at once to her sewing. 
 Again in a little while, as I was looking at her, I saw her 
 glance quickly at me, but seeing that I observed her, she
 
 182 STUBS OF TIME. 
 
 turned again at once to her work, and I thought I saw the 
 peach blossom prevail in her cheeks. 
 
 I now most inconsiderately suffered myself to become 
 oblivious to the Colonel's presence, as I could scarcely keep 
 my eyes off Mistress Anna, and when not looking at her, I 
 was gazing abstractedly into the fire and thinking of her. 
 
 Presently I became half conscious that the Colonel had 
 started out to tell a joke. I had already discovered that 
 the Colonel's jokes, while excellent, were long, and the 
 listener was always carried on a circuitous route of details 
 and preliminaries before he was brought to the climax and 
 laughing point. So I thought I might safely let my mind 
 drift away into the maze of soft thoughts which had already 
 engendered, and come back in time to catch up the thread 
 of the Colonel's anecdote, and laugh with him at the de- 
 nouement. Unfortunately, however, I made a blunder, and 
 did not pay enough attention to the Colonel to meet the 
 requirements of either courtesy or intelligence ; for as the 
 Colonel clapped his hands at some emphatic point in the 
 narrative, it awakened me from my dream, and I, thinking 
 that the point of the joke had been reached, laughed long 
 and loud. 
 
 All was still after my untoward merriment had ceased ; 
 and I was conscious that I had made a mistake, and that 
 the Colonel and his daughter were looking at me curiously ; 
 and I felt very much embarrassed. 
 
 Presently, my host tactfully took up and continued his 
 anecdote. It was a long time yet before the amusing point 
 was reached, and from what followed, I judged that my
 
 MISTRESS CARRINGTON OF VIRGINIA. 183 
 
 mirth had been most unseemly, and had broken out just as 
 the Colonel was telling a most pathetic part of the story. 
 
 I paid strict attention to him after this ; but I noticed he 
 looked closely at me several times, and asked if I were not 
 sleepy after my all-day's journey. Once, too, he spoke of 
 the apple brandy again, and asked if I thought it strong, 
 and if I was easily affected by spirituous liquors. 
 
 Something after 10 o'clock, Mistress Anna laid aside her 
 needlework and got up. As she did so, I heard her draw 
 a deep breath, which I knew not whether to interpret as a 
 small yawn or a big sigh. Then she came, and putting her 
 arm around her father's neck, kissed him good-night. This 
 lovely scene affected me deeply ; and I wished with all my 
 soul that I were in the Colonel's shoes for a few minutes. 
 She next came and shook hands with me, bidding me good- 
 night, and saying that she hoped I would find my room 
 comfortable, and would sleep well. Then, taking up a 
 candle, she went out, and I heard the patter of her dainty 
 slippers as she mounted the stair. 
 
 When the clock struck twelve, the Colonel took me up to 
 my room. After he had gone down, I sat a long while be- 
 fore my fire smoking and thinking. Then I undressed, 
 and bounced into the great testered bed, that was as soft 
 and white as a snow drift, and soon fell asleep. 
 
 That night I dreamed I wandered through a great beauti- 
 ful garden where snow drops and peach blossoms were the 
 principal flowers. There was one other who walked with 
 me, and whose hand I held ; and I thought the flowers all 
 nodded and smiled to her. We walked to a great orange 
 tree which stood in the middle of the garden, in full bloom.
 
 184 STUBS OF TIME. 
 
 And I thought there was a little pink Cupid up it, and he 
 laughed when he saw us ; and making a wreath of the 
 flowering orange, he tossed it over my companion's head. 
 
 IV. 
 
 The next morning about break of day, I was awakened 
 by a stamping outside of my door someone was getting 
 the snow off his feet. Then the door opened, and in the 
 dim light, I saw the figure of Uncle Zack looming up dark 
 and colossal. In one hand he carried a shovel-full of glow- 
 ing coals, and the other pressed to his bosom a large bundle 
 of resinous pine fagots, or " lightwood," as he called it. 
 The red light from the fire-coals shone on his black, shiny 
 face with its snowy beard, bringing it out in a strong, weird 
 relief. 
 
 I heard him walk with a heavy tread to the fire-place 
 his native uncouthness, big feet, and bigger shoes, mak- 
 ing futile his tip-toeing and other endeavors to make as little 
 noise as possible so as not to disturb me. 
 
 On reaching the fire-place, he uttered a characteristic 
 groan as he stooped to his knees, and put down the fire and 
 kindling. 
 
 "Ah Lawd," he mumbled, talking to himself, " dat 
 rheurnatiz in my back is wuss dis col' weather. Hit 'pear 
 lek don' nothin' do it no good 'cept dat brandy whar Marse 
 John gin me. Dat seem to loosen up de retchin right smart. 
 Marse John says ole folks lek me and him ought to have a 
 toddy every mornin'." 
 
 He commenced to 'blow the coals, and I could hear the
 
 MISTRESS CARRINGTON OF VIRGINIA. 185 
 
 sputter of the resinous pine as it became ignited and blazed 
 up, throwing a bright, flickering light into the room. Uncle 
 Zack piled on more wood, and then seemed to be busying 
 himself with sundry little attentions to the fire. He took 
 up some of the ashes from the middle of the fire-place and 
 shovelled them into the corners. Then he held his hands 
 in the blaze to warm them ; and finally, he turned up a near- 
 by ottoman, and took a turkey wing from under it, and 
 commenced to sweep up the hearth. 
 
 Meantime, he was groaning and mumbling to himself all 
 the while: he seemed to be unconsciously thinking aloud. 
 From what I could gather, I and the rheumatism and 
 Colonel Carrington's brandy seemed to be the topics upper- 
 most in his mind. 
 
 " Yas, fine young gentmuu," I heard him say, as he 
 soliloquized in an undertone, " jes lek he pa; I spec 
 he hear how pretty Miss Anna is and he done come to spark 
 'er. He'll be mekin love to her fus thing you know. He 
 good 'nough fur 'er, doh, I reggin, and he wan't gwi pay 
 no 'tention to 'er if he wan't neither. Naw, Lawd, dey 
 got to be de bes' blood in de Ian' fo' dey come flyin' 'round 
 Miss Anna. She don't want none of yo' ha'f strainers 
 prancin' 'roun her ; and I wan't gwi have it neither. Dey 
 got to b'long to de ristocracks fo' I 'lows 'em to look at 'er. 
 Ah, Lawd! dis rheumatiz is ter'ble dis mornin' : Num- 
 min' I spec Marse John gwi gimme er leetle dis mor- 
 nin' I lek to see young folks a-lovin' one 'ner. Miss 
 Anna lek him right well already I do b'lieve. I see 'er look 
 at him kinder shy las' night at de table, and den let her 
 eyes drap real quick, and bleshed when she cotched him
 
 186 STUBS OF TIME. 
 
 lookin' at her. Yassir, I b'lieve she's kinder took wid him 
 at de fas jump. Dey'd mek er handsome couple, too. 
 Lawd, wouldn't she look pretty wid dem orange blooms and 
 lace veils and things on! Marse John he never could 
 mek up his min' to spyar 'er, doh. If she ever gits mar- 
 ried, she got to live right hyar. Hit would kill Marse 
 John to have 'er go 'way. He wouldn't gin 'er up not to 
 let 'er marry er king ; and he's right, too. I dunno what 
 we'd do widout 'er. She's been de light of dis house ever 
 since she could walk ever since ole Miss died. And 
 Marse John hissef wouldn't miss 'er no mo'n Unc' Zack 
 would. Lawd, hit seems lek 'twan't no longer dan yistidy, 
 when I used to tek 'er up in my arms and jump 'er, and 
 tote 'er 'round. I 'member jes as well how she used to run 
 about in dose little speckle gingham dresses wid her hair all 
 floatin' 'bout jes as sparkly and bright as dis hyar tinsley 
 stuff whar dey has on Chrismus trees. I knowed den she 
 was gwi be de prettiest thing in de whole country when she 
 growed up. Hit didn't tek no prophet to tell dat. Dem 
 blue eyes of hers had mo' in 'em dan mos' chilluns. Dyar 
 was always suppin bright and shiny 'bout 'er face whar put 
 me in min' of sunshine on a rosebud." 
 
 It is needless to say that I had been an eager listener to 
 this random and rather incoherent monologue. Whether it 
 was intended for my ears or not, I could not say. Judg- 
 ing from parenthetical clauses relative to the Colonel's 
 brandy, I hardly thought it was ; but if any self-accusations 
 of eavesdropping had arisen in my mind, they were quickly 
 disregarded when I heard the name of Anna spoken. In 
 my eagerness to catch everj word, I craned my neck until
 
 MISTRESS CARRINGTON OF VIRGINIA. 187 
 
 it was exposed, and well from under the covering. This 
 now brought on a fit of sneezing, which coming, as it did, 
 at a most unwelcome time, told Uncle Zack that I was 
 awake. 
 
 " Hi! Marse Macon," he said, turning towards the bed, 
 " is you 'wake? Didn't know you was thinkin' bout 
 wakin' yit. Hyar I been runnin' on, and talkin' to 
 myse'f ; hope I ain't 'sturb you? " 
 
 "No, Uncle Zack, not at all; but is it time to get 
 up?" 
 
 " Lawd, chile, no, tu'n over and go 'long to sleep 
 ergin. De roosters ain' been long crow fur day. Marse 
 John, he up he always gits up early, but he ain' had he 
 toddy yit. And Sis Milly jes done put de brade on. Don't 
 you study 'bout gittin' up yit. By de time you tek ernother 
 nap de room will be nice and warm. I gwi put you er kettle 
 of water on so hit'll be hot when you's ready to wash. 
 Naw, chile, don't you study 'bout gittin' up yit, I jes gwine 
 down to de spring to see if I kin fin' some sprigs of mint 
 fur Marse John. He ginrally tek he julep widout de mint, 
 but he ax me dis moruiu' if I didn't reggin I could fin' er 
 leetle in de warm comders under de leaves, whar de fros' 
 ain' tech; said he had a kinder hankerin' fur de mint 
 flavor, and dat he spec you'd enjoy er little mint julep 
 yo'se'f fo' breakfas'. Said he didn't b'lieve in 'couragin' 
 young gentmuns to drink sperits, but dat dey ought to learn 
 when dey is young how to handle it in er gentmunly way. 
 He said dyar was er right way of usin' things, and er wrong 
 way, and if you learned er young man de right way fus, he
 
 188 STUBS OF TIME. 
 
 wan't in much danger of gittin' in de wrong way arter 
 while. 
 
 " Well, I done run on and 'sturbed you 'nough now. 
 Marse John '11 be hollerin' fur he mint preziiy. Tu'n over 
 and go 'long to sleep, Marse Macon: I gwi ring de risin' 
 bell when hit's time to git up. And if you sleeps all day 
 long hit don' mek no diffunce. Marse John says he always 
 want his gueses to do jest what dey like to do, 'specially at 
 Chrismus time. If dey'd ruther sleep, dey kin sleep till de 
 cows come home, and hit don' mek no diffunce long as dey 
 is pleasin' deyse'f." 
 
 With these parting words, Uncle Zack went out, and 
 following his advice, I turned over and went to sleep till I 
 was aroused about an hour later by the ringing of the rising 
 bell. 
 
 I got up and dressed in my hunting suit and went down. 
 I found the Colonel in the sitting-room before a great roaring 
 fire of hickory logs. He was reading a volume of Plutarch's 
 Lives, which he laid down as I came in, and getting up, 
 shook my hand warmly. 
 
 " Good morning, Macon," he said, " I hope you slept 
 well, and are feeling as fresh as a lark this morning. I 
 thought you seemed a little tired last night ; and no doubt 
 you were. By-the-by, I suppose you named the corners 
 last night? four University girls of course. There are as 
 many belles up there now as there were in my day, I am told. 
 We have very charming women in Virginia, Macon." 
 
 "You have, indeed, sir," I stated with probably more 
 emphasis and feeling than was expected, "They can 
 compare most favorably with our South Carolina girls."
 
 MISTRESS CARRINGTON OF VIRGINIA. 189 
 
 V. 
 
 The two remaining days before Christmas glided rapidly 
 away. The Colonel taking me over the house and farm, 
 showing me very interesting things. There were legends 
 and traditions connected with much of the old familiar silver 
 and antique furniture, which the Colonel narrated with a 
 zest and style that was highly entertaining. I was par- 
 ticularly interested in the collection of family portraits. 
 There was a fine profile likeness of the Colonel himself 
 taken as a youth. It was one of St. Memin's beautiful 
 crayons, and was very handsome, there being something 
 about the expression of the brow and eye which reminded 
 me strongly of his daughter. 
 
 The Colonel and I also took a most enjoyable hunt. We 
 went horseback, the Colonel saying, that while in his younger 
 days, he often covered the farm afoot, but now, with in- 
 creasing years, he had become stout and short of breath, 
 and was unequal to a long tramp. A small black boy rode 
 behind us on a mule to hold our horses when we got down 
 to shoot. 
 
 The dog soon stood a covey on the edge of a broomsage 
 field, and descending from our mounts, we walked into the 
 birds. They rose all about us with a buzzing roar and boom 
 that was most confusing. I, not being an experienced hun- 
 ter or good marksman, blazed away at random, firing both 
 barrels, but not bringing down a feather. The Colonel 
 banged away and toppled over the first bird, but made a 
 clean miss of the second. 
 
 "Pshaw! pshaw! " I heard him ejaculate as the noise
 
 190 STUBS OF TIME. 
 
 died away ; " a bad miss I should have gotten that second 
 bird." 
 
 The birds had scattered admirably along both sides of a 
 ditch, and we were soon getting them up singly and in pairs, 
 having great sport. I killed my next bird, but the Colonel 
 missed his, discharging only one barrel. 
 
 " Wait a minute, Macon," he said, taking a flask of 
 brandy from his pocket, after reloading, "I need a little 
 something to steady my nerves and supple my limbs. Some 
 years ago, I would not have taken it, but I find I can shoot 
 better for it now. Old blood needs something to stimulate 
 it to action." 
 
 More birds got up, and I did wild shooting ; but the Col- 
 onel killed several consecutively, making some fine double 
 shots. His good shooting continued in the main through- 
 out the day. After every bad miss, I noticed he would 
 take a swallow of brandy, and it appeared to be really of 
 much assistance to him. My shooting amused the Colonel 
 immensely, and for a long time afterwards, he would tease 
 me about it. 
 
 Toward evening, while we were crossing a small belt of 
 woods between two fields, the dogs flushed a flock of wild 
 turkeys. One of them came flying past us at about seventy 
 yards. The Colonel raised his gun with alacrity, and banged 
 away, breaking the turkey's wing. Then we had a wild 
 chase of it. The bird dashed away for the thick cover, with 
 lightning speed. The Colonel snapped his other barrel, but 
 it hung fire, and did not go off. I shot but missed. Run- 
 ning after it, we called the dogs, and they trailed it for 
 about half a mile. Finally, the bird, being exhausted by
 
 MISTRESS CARRINGTON OF VIRGINIA. 191 
 
 loss of blood, was captured by the dogs, and we were soon 
 up with them. 
 
 I was a gigantic gobbler, very fat; and had a beard, 
 which the Colonel measured, and found it to be of seven 
 inches length. 
 
 " Just in time for our Christmas dinner, to-morrow," 
 said the Colonel, smiling in glorious good humor and satis- 
 faction. Then we turned our horses homeward, being well 
 pleased with our day's sport ; having bagged twenty-five 
 partridges and the turkey. 
 
 VI. 
 
 My host and hostess had invited a number of young 
 people over to spend Christmas Eve with us, and that night 
 we were up till a late hour, dancing, romping and playing 
 games. There were some very lovely girls among them, 
 too, I remember, but I did not think any the peer of Anna 
 Carrington. Ah, I shall never forget how she looked that 
 night in her gown of fluffy, dreamy pink with its low-cut 
 neck and short sleeves. Can I ever forget the thrill I felt 
 when I took her little hand in mine and danced those 
 measures with her ! 
 
 After supper, we had broken up in pairs mostly, some 
 playing round games and cribbage, and others chatting. 
 Then some of the girls went to the spinet, and played and 
 sang. I got Mistress Anna off in a corner of the library. 
 While sitting there talking with her, and looking into those 
 beautiful eyes, I came very near telling her I loved her; 
 for I was certain that I did now. And then I thought it
 
 192 STUBS OF TIME. 
 
 was too soon, a little premature, I had known her so short 
 a while. She would not believe me ; she might be fright- 
 ened. And, yet, I could not realize that I had known her 
 so little time. It seemed as though I had known her always, 
 as I had known myself ; that she was a part of me, and had 
 been for all time. 
 
 Uncle Zack came in with his fiddle, in a little while, 
 and the hall, having been cleared, he seated himself in a 
 corner and called out, " Pardners fur de fus quadrille." 
 He rosined his bow, tuned and plunked the strings for a 
 time, and then, with such a heavy patting of the foot that 
 the chandeliers shook and trembled in the ceiling, he struck 
 up that good old tune, " Mollie Orchard," and the lines 
 swept forward, swaying and turning gracefully in the joyous 
 movements of the dance. 
 
 There was mistletoe hanging from the chandelier in the 
 center of the hall, and the girls all made a great pretense of 
 dodging from under it as they danced by. We kissed at 
 them, and, as everybody was in gala Christmas spirits, per- 
 chance, some of the kisses landed, and were taken in no ill 
 will. 
 
 The quadrille being over, Minnie Waller, a tall handsome 
 brunette with flashing black eyes, and a stateliuess of air 
 and appearance which reminded one of an Assyrian queen, 
 went and took her stand boldly under the mistletoe. " Now, 
 who dares?" she said, looking on us in defiance. Sev- 
 eral of the young beaux rushed forward, but on getting close 
 to her, they seemed to be held at bay by her haughty bear- 
 ing and flashing eyes. Gordon Roane, however, being 
 bolder than the rest, went forward, and gave her a resound-
 
 MISTRESS CARRINGTON OF VIRGINIA. 193 
 
 ing salute on the cheek. He was one of those jolly, dash- 
 ing fellows who could do or say anything he pleased. He 
 paid the penalty of his kiss ; for before he could get away 
 Miss Waller gave him a ringing box on the ear, and, 
 amid much laughter, he retreated with a very red face to a 
 corner. 
 
 Next came the Lancers, and I felt sick when I found that 
 Gordon Roane had engaged Anna as his partner. I got 
 another partner, but I fear I proved but a bore to her, pay- 
 ing her little heed, as my e} T es and attention were fixed on 
 another. 
 
 Gordon Roane was very good-looking and attractive, and 
 he and Anna were old friends, and seemed to be on the most 
 intimate terms. I know I must have looked green with 
 jealousy as I watched him and her chatting together. There 
 seemed to be secrets between them, too, and he would 
 whisper something to her, and she would look up at him and 
 smile in the most bewitching manner. There appeared to 
 be a thorough understanding and congeniality between them, 
 which almost drove me wild. I fear I had a look on my 
 face and a thought in my heart which was most uncharitable 
 to Roane. 
 
 After the Lancers, I rushed up to them, and engaged 
 Anna for the waltz that followed. There was a little inter- 
 mission before the waltz, Uncle Zack taking time to catch 
 his breath and gulp down a big mug of eggnog. Meantime 
 Anna and young Roane promenaded arm in arm out of the 
 hall, and went into the sitting-room. There, when the waltz 
 commenced, I pounced upon them like a savage, and claimed 
 my partner. I found them sitting on a sofa in a corner by 
 
 13
 
 194 STUBS OF TIME. 
 
 themselves, and seemingly oblivious to all else but their own 
 society. She said she was a little tired, and that her slipper 
 cramped her foot, and asked if I would not please excuse 
 her from the engagement. "Yes," I said curtly and 
 coldly, for there was nothing else I could say, and 
 whirled around and walked away. I went and got another 
 partner, and entered mechanically into the waltz. One 
 moment I would feel raging, and another, all crushed and 
 despondent. I could do nothing, though, and I concealed 
 my feelings, and acted my part in the festivities as best I 
 could. In a little while I saw that she had come in, and was 
 waltzing with Roane in spite of her fatigue and tight shoe. 
 
 During the dancing the Colonel came in for a short time, 
 and, selecting a fair and charming partner, danced a lively 
 measure or so. He seemed to enjoy it greatly, but puffed 
 mightily at the end, taking a chair in the doorway where he 
 could look on, and saying that for the rest of the evening 
 he thought it more expedient that he join in the gaieties in 
 spirit and not in person ; that the years had stoutened and 
 stiffened his body, but his heart was as young as ever. He 
 sat and watched us for quite awhile, his face beaming, and 
 a great beaker of eggnog in his hand. 
 
 I paid no more attention to Mistress Anna that night, and 
 would not even look at her. The company left at a late 
 hour, the Colonel telling them as they went out that he feared 
 if they had stayed up much later they would have kept Santa 
 Glaus from coming, and he would not have filled his little 
 Anna's stocking. 
 
 The next day was Christmas, and we spent it, as was cus- 
 tomary in those days in the South, in a semi-religious way,
 
 MISTRESS CARRINGTON OF VIRGINIA. 195 
 
 making it a day of quiet peace, joy and good-will. The 
 Colonel spent the morning in distributing presents among his 
 negroes, and there was none that he forgot, giving even the 
 little black pickaninny that was but a week old some nice 
 warm frocks of flannel. 
 
 I will always remember the Christmas dinner. We had 
 no guests there was none but the Colonel, his daughter 
 and myself. Every face on Huntiugton Hall farm was 
 radiant that day, even my own, for I would not suffer my 
 last night's discomfiture to give me a long face, and make 
 me as a skeleton at the feast. I assumed a cheerful coun- 
 tenance ; Mistress Carrington was all smiles, and seemed to 
 have no recollection of the last night's happenings ; and the 
 Colonel's jovial face fairly shone with good-will and kindli- 
 ness. 
 
 After the Colonel had said grace, we sat down at the table 
 which was all a-sparkle with the family silver and cut glass. 
 The Colonel raised the glittering carving knife and fork, and 
 tackled our big turkey with a vim and gusto that was pleas- 
 ant to see. It was a most delicious bird fat, and well 
 cooked, with an abundance of rich gravy seasoned in the 
 most palatable mode. With its cranberry sauce, I enjoyed 
 that turkey to the fullest extent ; for love, I am thankful to 
 say, never did affect my appetite. 
 
 There was on the table a bottle of rare, old Medoc of the 
 Chateau Margaux variety, I think, the Colonel told me, if 
 I remember correctly. He also said that this wine had 
 been in the family for generations, and was always honored 
 by a separate clause in the family wills ; that it had been 
 brought over from Bordeaux about the middle of the
 
 196 STUBS OF TIME. 
 
 eighteenth century on board one of his great-grandfather's 
 trading ships. He said that it had been a custom in the 
 family to drink this wine only on Christmas Day, and that 
 there were only a few bottles left now. 
 
 I am by no means a connoisseur of wines, but I can say 
 that I have never tasted a vintage in which smoothness, fire, 
 and delicious delicacy of bouquet were so happily blended 
 as they were in this old Medoc. We sipped it leisurely, 
 Miss Carrington taking only half a glass, and the Colonel 
 telling some capital jokes between the sips of wine and big 
 mouthfuls of turkey. 
 
 After dinner, Uncle Zack was given a taste of the wine, 
 the Colonel telling him its age and history, and asking his 
 opinion of it. Uncle Zack tasted it, and smacked his lips 
 gravely: " Gawd A'mighty, Marse John," he said, " hit 
 sho is curious ; dyar's suppiu in it whar min' me of Hebben, 
 and dyar's suppin in it whar min' me of de yuther place. 
 Hit got fire and aidge to it, but den it got suppin soothin', 
 and sweet, and restful lek in it too." 
 
 Christmas night, we had no company, neither did we go 
 out. The Colonel and I played backgammon and chess, 
 and Anna read Moore's Poems. Later, she and I played 
 cribbage while the Colonel smoked his pipe. Again, I was 
 on the point of saying something tender to her, but I 
 restrained myself, being still somewhat resentful at her treat- 
 ment of me the night before. She had never offered any ex- 
 planation as to why she had behaved so ; nor did I mention 
 it, as it was an unpleasant subject to me. 
 
 The next night Mistress Anna and myself were invited 
 out to Dr. Waller's to a big party. Dr. Waller had a noble
 
 MISTRESS CARRINGTON OF VIRGINIA. 197 
 
 old mansion about five miles from Huntington Hall ; and 
 about sundown, we started in the carriage, Uncle Zack acting 
 as driver and chaperon. 
 
 Mistress Anna was quite gracious during the drive, and 
 very talkative for her. She prattled away, and told me all 
 about the beautiful furs she wore, which, she said, had 
 been prepared from the skins of red foxes that her father 
 had caught in the chase. She was experienced at fox hunt- 
 ing herself, she told me, and had not infrequently been a 
 brush winner. 
 
 When we got to Dr. Waller's, the house was filled with a 
 gay and fair company. There was a whole band of darkey 
 musicians ; the big rooms were all thrown open ; the floors 
 were waxed till they glistened like mirrors'; and big bunches 
 of holly and mistletoe were throughout the house. 
 
 Radiant with the pleasurable excitement of the evening, 
 Anna looked more lovely than I had ever seen her. She was 
 a great belle that evening, but I got all the dances with her 
 I could. In one of the waltzes I had with her, the floor was 
 crowded with many couples, and I had to hold her close 
 and firmly in order to guide in the throng of dancers. 
 There was the little golden head against my shoulder ; there 
 was the little velvety hand in mine ; and I don't suppose I 
 should have done it, but I could not help it : as we 
 passed under the mistletoe, which hung from the swinging 
 lamp, I bowed my head and kissed her on the brow. She 
 started to break from me, but just then the music stopped, 
 and supper was announced. Then I could hold myself in 
 no longer, and blurted it out as best I could: " Anna," I
 
 198 STUBS OF TIME. 
 
 whispered as I offered her my arm, " I love you, and I could 
 not help it." 
 
 She was very solemn going back that night. The moon was 
 shining brightly. Uncle Zack was sitting on the front seat 
 intermittently humming some dolorous darkey dirge, and 
 clucking to the horses. He was not in as gloomy a mood as 
 his song would indicate, for Dr. Waller had given him brandy 
 enough to lighten his heart without making him dangerous 
 as a driver. 
 
 I started to talk on various topics, but found it up-hill 
 work, as Anna was not at all responsive. After a long 
 pause, I stole my hand into her muff, gently catching her 
 hand. She withdrew it quickly. " Did you hear what I 
 told you to-night? " I asked her. " Yes," she answered, 
 " but I don't wish to talk of it. Say no more about it 
 not now." 
 
 VII. 
 
 The next day we slept late ; and the day following, we 
 went fox hunting. Notwithstanding his advanced years, 
 the Colonel was still an excellent rider, sitting a horse most 
 nobly, and was very fond of the chase. We had fine mounts, 
 and a good pack of hounds ; and a company of the neigh- 
 bors helped to make up the party. The Colonel blew his 
 great buffalo horn till it re-echoed resonantly from the 
 distant forests and hills ; and we cantered off merrily. 
 The day was bright and bracing well-fitted for outdoor 
 sport. 
 
 I rode by Mistress Anna's side. She appeared to great
 
 MISTRESS CARRINGTON OF VIRGINIA. 199 
 
 advantage in her tight-fitting riding habit of dark green, and 
 sat firmly and gracefully on her big bay horse. 
 
 It was riot long before a fox was gotten up, and we dashed 
 across a field at a furious gallop to follow the dogs. I was 
 no novice at riding, and I found no difficulty in keeping 
 pace with the others. We cleared several low fences and some 
 ditches, and then swept down a great level field half a mile 
 across. Anna and I were still side by side, and it was a 
 great pleasure to me to see the ease and fearlessness with 
 which she cleared the fences. As we rode along, she taunted 
 me with much good-natured badinage as to how she was 
 going to beat me and win the brush. 
 
 At the end of the field there was a high rail fence, some- 
 thing over five feet, I should judge. Still going at a full 
 gallop, we swept down upon it. One after another the riders 
 cleared it. Anna and I were about the middle of the party : 
 some yards from the fence, we turned our horses' heads a 
 little and each aimed for a separate panel. 
 
 Our horses rose in the air. I remember having my eyes 
 on Anna, as, like a lithe sapling in a storm, she swayed with 
 the motion of the leaping horse. I remember my horse 
 alighting heavily, and stumbling ; and then all was dark. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 When I came to myself I was in bed at Huntington Hall. 
 The Colonel and Dr. Waller with grave faces were sitting 
 by me. They looked at me as I moved, and smiled kindly 
 as they saw that I recognized them. I tried to speak, but 
 felt great "pain in my side. I was also^aware that my head
 
 200 STUBS OF TIME. 
 
 was bandaged up. And there was a smell of various medi- 
 cines iu the room. 
 
 After attempting to collect my thoughts for awhile, I finally 
 managed to feebly ask what had happened. Dr. Waller 
 answered in his gentle, genial way, evidently trying to make 
 light of the matter. 
 
 "Nothing much is the matter, my boy," he said, " only 
 you had an accident ; your horse fell and threw you against 
 a stump. Lie quiet, and don't talk, and you will soon be 
 all right." 
 
 Well, I had a long spell of it was on my back for four 
 weeks. Three ribs had been broken, besides, I had a nar- 
 row escape from brain fever. But my mother came in a few 
 days, and I had her with me, and Anna. 
 
 IX. 
 
 One afternoon, during my convalescence, I was lying on 
 the couch in the library, in my dressing gown. My mother 
 was in the next room, and Anna was sitting by, reading to 
 me. She had read to me much during my illness, and in 
 the capacity of the sweetest little nurse in the world, had 
 endeared herself to me more than words could express. 
 
 It was a love story she had been reading ; but the short 
 winter twilight had fallen, making it too dark to read, and 
 she now stopped and laid the book in her lap, just as the 
 lovers in the story, after many trials, seemed about to realize 
 their felicity. She laid the book in her lap, and was sitting 
 there still and silent. I had been listening with closed eyes,
 
 MISTRESS CARRINGTON OF VIRGINIA. 201 
 
 but Inow opened them, and looked on her as she sat there 
 in the dim red and golden glow of the winter's sunset. 
 
 I held out my hand to her I was still very weak 
 " Anna," I called. 
 
 She came to my side and 1 took her hand : " Anna," I 
 said, "it is too dark to finish reading the story ; let us act 
 out the end. Can I speak of it now? Do you love me? " 
 
 She did not answer, but pressed my hand, and then bent 
 over and kissed me. That was all. That was enough. I 
 said no more, but lay back and was happy. 
 
 X. 
 
 After I was getting well and strong, my mother returned 
 home, and I was to go back to the University in a few days. 
 
 A day or two before I left, I was sitting one morning in 
 the library with the Colonel, and I thought the time had 
 come for me to speak to him of it. 
 
 " Colonel," I said, laying down my book, and jumping 
 in without introduction or formality, " I love your daughter, 
 and I want to marry her." 
 
 The Colonel sprang up as though off a pin, and thrust- 
 ing his hands in his pockets, stood looking over at me with 
 an expression on his face that seemed to say he doubted the 
 testimony of his senses. 
 
 "Want to marry my daughter! What daughter? my 
 little Anna? " he presently broke out. 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 " Macon, are you mad?"
 
 202 STUBS OF TIME. 
 
 " No, sir ; but I love her, and she loves me, and I want 
 to marry her." 
 
 ' ' You love her ! and she loves you ! and 
 you want to marry her! " exclaimed the Colonel with a 
 slow, broken emphasis which expressed very plainly that he 
 was nearly dumfoundered with surprise. " What is that I 
 hear?" he continued; "why, boy, she is nothing but a 
 child a mere child. She doesn't know what love is, ex- 
 cept her love for me. Marry her ! Nonsense ! I will call 
 her, and see what all this means. I hope you haven't been 
 putting silly ideas in my child's head while enjoying the 
 hospitality of my roof? Wait a moment I'll call her, and 
 look into this business." 
 
 I jumped before the door, and remonstrated with the 
 Colonel ; and catching his hand begged him not to do it 
 not to bring her in, and embarrass, and perhaps frighten 
 her ; that he might see her privately, and talk with me pri- 
 vately, and investigate the matter ; but that he ought not 
 thus suddenly to make a public exhibition, as it were, of out- 
 most sacred and shrinking thoughts and emotions. 
 
 But the Colonel paid no heed to my entreaties, and brushed 
 me aside. 
 
 " She's my child, sir," he said, " and I'll do as I please, 
 and brook no interference. I'm master of my house and 
 family, and don't wish to be dictated to." 
 
 I saw the Colonel's temper was rising, so I discreetly 
 desisted, taking my seat, and awaiting the outcome with 
 what calmness I could. 
 
 I heard him go out into the hall calling Anna ; and in a 
 little while he came back leading her by the hand. She
 
 MISTRESS CARKINGTON OF VIRGINIA. 203 
 
 looked pale and frightened the little angel she didn't 
 know what was to pay, and I half believe she thought we 
 were going to be married summarily then and there, or that 
 the Colonel was going to give us both a flogging. She 
 glanced at me, and I think my assumed look of dare-devil 
 dignity and composure reassured her somewhat. 
 
 The Colonel, however, gave her short time for speculating 
 as to what his intentions were. He made his purpose known 
 at once. Having closed the door, he motioned Anna to a 
 seat; then strode up to the fire, and wheeled about and 
 faced us. 
 
 " Anna," he said, " has Macon been talking to you about 
 love ? ' ' 
 
 She blushed deeply, then gave a timid glance at me which 
 it was easy to interpret as a mute, piteous appeal for some 
 sign as to how she should answer. The poor little dear 
 didn't know what to do, or what to say. She knew so little 
 of love, so little of life and the world, that she knew not 
 whether love were a crime or not. It was a cruel question, 
 I thought, it was terrible to thus come down in one fell 
 swoop upon her tender, sensitive feelings of maiden modesty. 
 I could hardly control myself. Rash thoughts rushed 
 through my mind. I started to get up, and take her in my 
 arms and defy the Colonel. It was too heartless too cruel 
 to do her this way. I shall never forget how she looked as 
 she sat there in the awful silence pending her answer to that 
 question. Again, she looked at me, and I nodded. In the 
 meanwhile, the Colonel, with a serious expression of unfath- 
 omable meaning on his face, was looking at her, awaiting her 
 reply.
 
 204 STUBS OF TIME. 
 
 Then the answer came: " Yes, sir," she said in a firm 
 voice ; but there was a suggestion of tears back of it. 
 
 The Colonel cleared his throat, and all was still again. 
 I half expected him to collar me and kick me out of the 
 house. 
 
 " Well," said the Colonel after a brief pause, u come, 
 my child out with it let us have it tell me all about 
 it. I'm your father, and must know. Macon says that 
 you love him, and that you all want to get married. Is that 
 so?" 
 
 The tears had come now, the brave little heroine could 
 hold them in no longer. I saw two big ones come rolling 
 down her cheeks, and the long lashes were all wet and 
 heavy. 
 
 " Yes, sir," she sobbed. 
 
 Then I could restrain myself no longer. I jumped up, 
 and ran and caught her in my arms, and kissed the little 
 pale face all wet with tears. Her bravery was all gone now : 
 she was completely overcome ; and she rested her head on 
 my shoulder, and sobbed aloud. I glanced up at the 
 Colonel. I saw him quickly turn his head away, and wipe 
 his eyes, and then he commenced to pace the floor quickly 
 up and down. 
 
 After a little while, he stopped, and came and drew up a 
 chair by us, and put his arm around his daughter. 
 
 " And you love him, Anna? " he asked. 
 
 "Yes, sir," she sobbed again, and then transferred her 
 head from my shoulder to her father's. The Colonel held 
 her close, and looked very grave. 
 
 " Macon," he said, " I cannot give her up, I cannot
 
 MISTRESS CARRINGTON OF VIRGINIA. 205 
 
 think of it. Would you take away my one joy my one 
 prop that keeps me from tumbling in the grave? " 
 
 " No, sir; I would not," I answered, scarcely knowing 
 what I said, or what I thought. 
 
 " And yet," continued the Colonel, as though he had not 
 heard me, " the work is done now and cannot be helped. 
 A new element has entered into her life. I at last realize 
 that she is a young woman, and that henceforward there will 
 have to be something else besides her old father to make her 
 life complete and happy. It is done now, Maeon, and I 
 will resign myself to the inevitable laws. You have 
 awakened the strongest force of her nature, and she will 
 never be happy without you. Take her, my son, and God 
 bless you both." 
 
 XI. 
 
 In a few days I returned to the University. I applied 
 myself to rny studies with an ardor and resolution which 
 knew no defeat. The professors were kind enough to give 
 me some special examinations, and in spite of my long 
 illness, when the degrees were conferred the following sum- 
 mer, I was counted among the elect, and walked up and 
 took mine too. 
 
 Early in the fall, Anna and I were married, my mother 
 and many friends coming on to the wedding. After some 
 days of festivity at Huntington Hall, I took my wife to our 
 home, Clinton Mount, and the Colonel went with us. It had 
 been decided that he was to spend six months of the year 
 with us at Clinton Mount, and the other six months, we 
 were to spend with him at Huntington Hall.
 
 206 STUBS OF TIME. 
 
 One afternoon, some two months after we had settled at 
 Clinton Mount, my mother and the Colonel came in from a 
 drive to the Post Office. Both Anna and I noticed that 
 they seemed to be in a gale of good spirits. Before they 
 got to the house, we heard them laughing and talking like 
 two school children. All that evening, they were as gay as 
 you please. My mother laughing and teasing, and ^the 
 Colonel making heavy drafts on his inexhaustible fund of 
 jokes. It was all easily explicable the next morning when 
 they called us into the parlor, and after closing the door, and 
 drawing the blinds most mysteriously, announced to us in 
 whispers barely audible, that they were engaged, and were 
 to be married in a very short time.
 
 "CAME UPON LAURA DIGGING VIOLETS.
 
 AFTER ALL. 207 
 
 AFTER ALL. 
 
 I. 
 
 It was a few days before Christmas, and John Ardslye 
 was shut up in his room at college. Outside he could hear 
 the shouts of his fellow-collegians ; the football team had 
 been victorious that day but John paid little attention to 
 the fuss. John was in love there is no doubt about it 
 and he was writing a letter to send along with the present 
 he had gotten for his sweetheart. Thrilled with the afflatus 
 of his passion, he wrote : 
 
 " What shall I give you in return for what you have given me 
 you who have given me your pure maiden love, your heart, your 
 little self: you who have given me faith in life, faith in love, faith 
 in God: you who have made the flowers fairer, the birds' songs 
 more sweet, the sunshine brighter: who have glorified work, and 
 clothed it with gladness shod the long hours with the fleetness 
 of joy: who, with a look, have transformed my sordid selfishness 
 into charity: whose eyes have illumed even the heavy shadows 
 which hang about the grave, and made the star of hope to shine in 
 the dark valley of the tomb: who have answered for me those 
 ancient, troublous questions, Why? Whence? Where? and solved 
 their riddle with the single word Love. 
 
 "And these words are written for you, my little darling for 
 you who have loved, and not for the unthinking and flippant; 
 not for the idler, the skeptic, the cynic, the faithless, but for you 
 who have known love's paradoxical mysteries, its pride and humility,
 
 208 STUBS OF TIME. 
 
 Its weakness and power, its faith and doubt, its splendid agony, its 
 terrible joy." 
 
 Yes, John was in love ; there was no doubt of it. 
 
 Several times the current of his thoughts was interrupted 
 by bangs on his door as some of the exulting students went 
 by, wondering if he were in. But John gave no sign to 
 disclose his whereabouts until the letter was finished and 
 sealed. Then, slipping it into his pocket with the present, 
 he went out to post them. Crossing the campus, he en- 
 countered a straggling, laughing and shouting group of the 
 football players. They were in great glee, the exhilaration 
 of victory having been supplemented by that of punch which 
 had been served them in large quantities by proud admirers, 
 immediately after the game. 
 
 "Hello, Ardslye," they called, " where've you been? 
 Why aren't you celebrating? " 
 
 Some of them caught his hat for John was popular, 
 and knew them all well and waved it in the air; others 
 slapped him on the shoulder, and the big center rush grabbed 
 his hand, and shook it so violently that the letter and 
 present fell from John's pocket. 
 
 "Hello, what have we here ! " said the center rush, stoop- 
 ing and picking them up. " Aha," he continued, as he 
 read the addresses, " I see Miss Laura Lane what 
 are you sending her, Johnnie, my boy? Sweet, is she? 
 and pretty of course? Got it bad, have you? Say, fellows, 
 here's fun in a nut shell ; we must read this letter and see 
 this present, even if they don't get to her in time to go in 
 her stocking. What do you say about it, John ? Don't you 
 think you can give us a set-up to a banquet of your mental
 
 AFTER ALL. 209 
 
 sweets and bonbons after we've won such a victory for you 
 to-day?" 
 
 John got very red, and made several futile attempts to 
 snatch the letter and parcel, but they were held high over 
 the head of the big center rush where he could not reach 
 them. 
 
 By reason of his great size and strength, and great good 
 humor, the center rush was usualty a privileged person to 
 do and say what he pleased without question. The merry 
 crowd now stood watching him, and enjoying the joke at 
 the expense of the discomfited Ardslye. 
 
 "Here goes, then, silence gives consent," said the 
 center rush, tearing open the letter: "hush now, fellows, 
 while I read it ; and you had better take lessons from it, 
 because some of you might be in John's fix some day, and 
 then you'd have a good recipe for the making of a senti- 
 mental pudding of sweet nonentities. Here she goes, 
 then : ' My dearest Laura.' ' 
 
 He got no farther ; for at this moment John broke away 
 from the two men who had been delegated to hold him, and 
 rushing forward struck the center rush in the face, throwing 
 his entire weight and strength into the blow. 
 
 John was of good size, strong, and athletic himself, and 
 his blow coming unexpectedly as it did, and squarely be- 
 tween the eyes, felled the center rush to the ground. 
 
 There was a general commotion, during which John seized 
 and pocketed his letter and parcel. In a moment the center 
 rush was sitting up, and looking around, still somewhat 
 dazed. John was advised to flee before the giant recovered 
 himself ; but he stood his ground. 
 
 14
 
 210 STUBS OF TIME. 
 
 Then, as his rnind cleared, the center rush got up and 
 walked over to John, who stood, pale, but looking him 
 unflinchingly in the eye. Every one expected one knock-out 
 blow for John, but they were mistaken. The center rush 
 grasped his hand and shook it. 
 
 " That was a good one you gave me," he said, " and you 
 were right. I was a little too gay, and went too far ; but 
 you've sobered me up now. I didn't know it was such a 
 serioug thing either thought maybe it was just a little 
 flirtation, and that you wouldn't mind it much, and would 
 take it good-humoredly, considering we are all out for a lark. 
 But I see now I made a mistake, and am glad I got hauled 
 up for it. Come on and join our party. It's all right now, 
 isn't it, Ardslye, old man?" 
 
 "O, yes," John answered, "it's all right now; let's 
 forget it. Go ahead I'll have to run back and get another 
 envelope, but I'll overtake you in a minute." 
 
 " I'm glad he read no further," John thought to himself, 
 as he ran back to his room, and again put the letter in a con- 
 dition to be mailed, "yes, as he said, it is a serious 
 thing Hove her; she loves me; and for her sake I would 
 fear to do nothing." 
 
 II. 
 
 John Ardslye was at this time a young man in his twenty- 
 first year. He had spent most of his life before going to 
 college at his father's country home, and, though clever, 
 his knowledge of the world was neither broad nor acute. 
 His father was a practical man of modest means, good birth
 
 AFTER ALL. 211 
 
 and breeding, and with high hopes of the future career of his 
 only child John. 
 
 There was a man named Lane living as a tenant on Mr. 
 Ardslye's farm, with his f amity consisting of wife and 
 daughter. This daughter, Laura, had been the chief com- 
 panion and playmate of John's childhood and youth ; and 
 she it was to whom the letter was addressed. 
 
 As John and Laura grew up together it was natural that 
 love should have developed between them. When children, 
 they had spent days together roaming in the woods ; gather- 
 ing wild flowers ; sharing each other's lunch ; wading in 
 the brook, and catching the silvered minnows with pin and 
 worm. 
 
 Time passed, and John sprang up[into a tall, dark-eyed, 
 handsome youth, and Laura into a lithe, graceful maiden of 
 the blonde type, having big blue eyes, full of intelligence, 
 but with a child-like, confiding, inuocency of expression. 
 Then they read and talked together as two children of nature. 
 John, being two years her senior, had much influence in the 
 molding of Laura's character. He was fond of books, and 
 she became fond of them too. He had notions of lofty 
 ideals, and in a way they were impressed upon her. She 
 became superior to her blood and raising her parents were 
 of plain, unrefined origin in instincts and culture. As 
 she grew older her character became one of simple strength, 
 gentle confidence, and unsophisticated intelligence; and, 
 when the dawn of love shot its glorious radiance through 
 her soul, she believed that it was all in all the breath, the 
 motive, the mission of life. 
 
 John, being well up in the teens, his father had sent him
 
 212 STUBS OF TIME. 
 
 off to college. Mr. Ardslye had noticed the relations 
 existing between John and Laura, but deemed it nothing of 
 moment. "Puppy love," he called it, and thought that 
 when his son left for college that would be the last of it. 
 But returning in the summer, and for several consecutive 
 summers, John found that the separation instead of lessen- 
 ing, had made stronger and deeper his love for Laura. 
 
 So it was that the summer of his graduation the sum- 
 mer next after the fight with the center rush young 
 Ardslye again returned home. He found Laura had grown 
 more beautiful since he saw her last, and he speedily renewed 
 his fond association with her. Often would he and she 
 meet in the orchard between their homes, and there read and 
 talk through the long summer days. Each was now more 
 or less timid in the other's presence : their love was so great 
 they feared it, and felt awed. 
 
 After some weeks, John being determined on marriage, 
 spoke to his father of it. He had delayed this as long as 
 possible, as he knew his sire would not be likely to tolerate 
 such an idea. Still it had to be done, as John was penni- 
 less, and had no start in the world, and without the parental 
 sanction, mad in love as he was, he saw that marriage was 
 well-nigh an impossibility. 
 
 They were sitting in the library reading, one night, and 
 John laid down his book, and said : - 
 
 " Father, Laura and I want to get married right away." 
 
 Mr. Ardslye put down his paper at once, and looked at 
 John over his glasses, raising his eyebrows, and stretching 
 his eyes, but saying nothing. 
 
 " Yes, Father, you know how we love each other."
 
 AFTER ALL. 213 
 
 " Gracious me! Mercy on us! has it come to that, my 
 son? " said Mr. A.rdslye in a tone expressive of ridicule and 
 disgust. "Well, well," he continued, "this comes as a 
 shock and surprise, indeed I had a better opinion of your 
 intelligence, my son, than to ever think you would dream 
 of taking such a step. I knew, it is true, that you were 
 somewhat infatuated with the girl, but the possibility of 
 your ever wishing to marry her never occurred to me. 
 What's the matter with you are you speaking seriously? 
 Or have you gone crazy ? ' ' 
 
 " No, but I love her, and I'm going to marry her." 
 
 "Pshaw! Nonsense! You are too old, and have too 
 much sense to talk like that. I suppose you want to de- 
 grade yourself and me to give up all your chances in life 
 of making something of yourself you want to be a nin- 
 compoop the victim of a silly, boyish passion, and tie 
 yourself irretrievably, body and soul, to that plain, simple, 
 and designing daughter of a bumpkin, do you? I'd have 
 more pride more self-respect, my son, than to be taken in 
 and gulled, and blinded in such a manner." 
 
 " Yes, but I love her, and she loves me : is not love worth 
 it all is it not the best in life? Were I to become a king 
 by losing her, I would not feel repaid ; I would not be 
 happy." 
 
 ' 'Love love nothing but love : that everlasting tommy- 
 rot of young people : that's the matter with you. What a 
 pity we cannot inoculate against it what a pity we have 
 no virus to make young innocents immune to the pest, to 
 this mental contagion and infection called love. Or if they 
 must have it, there should be an asylum or pest house
 
 214 STUBS OF TIME. 
 
 where all afflicted with the epidemic should be quarantined, 
 and have drastic treatment till they are cured of their 
 aberrations. 
 
 " My son, love is a malady which, like measles and 
 whooping cough, youth is peculiarly subject to. As Diog- 
 enes said, it is fit business for an idle person. It is a 
 luxury, a folly, a dissipation, a delusion which men with the 
 work of the world on their shoulders cannot afford to in- 
 dulge in. Leave it to children, and idle, sentimental 
 women. It is a deception which nature practices on the 
 young and unwary a mild form of madness which, in this 
 age of reason and practicality, should be ruled out of our 
 thoughts, eschewed and ridiculed. I know what it is. I 
 speak from experience. I had the disease myself when I 
 was your age. Thank Heaven I did not plunge blindly in, 
 as you wish to do, and blight all my prospects chasing that 
 will-o'-wisp called Cupid. Love is a plant which grows 
 rankly and waywardly in the soil of young, inexperienced 
 minds : it is not a perennial not even an annual ; it lasts 
 for but a moon, and that the honey-moon. 
 
 ' ' Your mother and I get along very well together bet- 
 ter than most couples, I warrant: -we have little spats 
 occasionally, but nothing of a serious nature ; and yet our 
 union was not what one would term a love match. Don't 
 understand me to say that our marriage was altogether one 
 of policy far from it. We respected, trusted, even 
 admired each other before marriage ; but what I mean to say 
 is that we did not labor under that unfortunate and illusory 
 state which you are now in, and which bears the respectable 
 name of love, but should be called juvenile insanity. After
 
 AFTER ALL. 215 
 
 marriage, being in circumstances which necessitated little 
 friction of the domestic and economic machinery, our mu- 
 tual admiration and respect increased from day to day, and 
 a more sensible, more real, and more stable affection and 
 regard gradually grew up between us ; and to-day we are 
 comfortable and contented while many of the actors in a 
 love-marriage-drama, or rather, tragedy, whom I might 
 name, are suing for divorces, or, what is more deplorable, 
 living together in mutual unhappiness. 
 
 " Yes, my son, take my advice, and let love be the last 
 thing }-ou marry for. A man can't make a sensible match 
 when he is in love, unless he does it by chance. And the 
 result of matrimony, my boy, is too serious a thing to be 
 left to the vagaries of chance. If you happen to be in love 
 with a woman who will make you a desirable wife, it is all 
 very well no harm can come of it ; but for gracious' sake 
 don't marry because of that love. If you find yourself in 
 love, immediately become alarmed consider yourself a 
 monomaniac, a person non compos mentis as regards your 
 inamorata and any possible alliance with her. Consult 
 your friends true and tried, taking care that they be not 
 likewise afflicted with your distemper, and if they, seeing 
 things in a reasonable light, think the match expedient 
 then congratulate yourself, and go ahead and marry her if 
 you can. The love may make things pleasanter for a month 
 or two, if it doesn't make a simpering fool of you, as I have 
 known it to do with many a callow young man. Love is an 
 excellent sauce for the brief banquet of the honey -moon, but 
 for the many matter-of-fact dinners of after life which we 
 all must eat, take reason, my boy, take reason and practical
 
 216 STUBS OF TIME. 
 
 common sense, and you will find them in the long run much 
 safer and more wholesome condiments in the matrimonial 
 cuisine." 
 
 " O, you can never have loved, Father, or you couldn't 
 talk in that cold, calculating, unfeeling way: you have 
 never loved as I do now, when my whole being cries out, and 
 bears witness that love is the highest end of life. You 
 never have known it in its true, pure, and noble inspiration, 
 if you can talk like that." 
 
 " Tut, tut, bosh and fiddlesticks! Poor fellow! you 
 have it bad you have a typical case every symptom, 
 reason gone> delirium, high temperature, hallucinations and 
 phantasmagoria, beatific visions and ideas about the omnip- 
 otence and eternity of love, and crazy impractical notions 
 about high ideals, heroism, sacrifice, and so on. Yes, my 
 son, you have it bad ; and the worst feature of your disease 
 is that they who have it never want to get rid of it, and pay 
 no heed to the wise advice of physicians and counsellors. 
 Your ailment is as befuddling as opium, as intoxicating 
 as whiskey, and more dangerous than both. It has 
 caused more young men to fail in life than those two 
 combined. Listen to me when I tell you that you are sim- 
 ply the dupe of old Nature : she has her ends in view, and 
 she practises her deceptions on the young and inexperienced. 
 When persons arrive at my time of life they are not fooled 
 by her tricks, and showy, catchy misrepresentations. They 
 become cool and reasonable, and don't let that stupefying 
 little Cupid lead them a-dance. Young men lose a great deal 
 of valuable time dallying with love. If they would just 
 start out and take it as a plain, ordinary affair, and second-
 
 AFTER ALL. 217 
 
 ary consideration, taking it as a matter of course like they 
 take their dinners and the other natural and accustomed 
 details of life : if they would just take it as men past fifty 
 do, they'd succeed much better in life. 
 
 " Also, my son, you want to make a good start in life be- 
 fore you marry ; thirty years of age is plenty of time. You 
 will have passed through the first and most violent stage of 
 youthful fever then, and will be able to see things with 
 clearer vision. Hasty marriages contracted in youth are 
 often as fatal to success and happiness as a chronic disease. 
 Marriage is a grave step, my boy, and should be taken cir- 
 cumspectly. Separate from that girl, and in a year's time 
 you will see the wisdom of my advice. Marry her, and you 
 blight all your prospects and all my hopes. In a month or 
 two, being surfeited with love, you would be cursing your 
 folly and wishing you were free again. Marry her, and 
 you'll go down to her level you'll lose all ambition 
 you'll settle down here in the country in desuetude, tied to 
 a wife who in the nature of things is bound to prove as a 
 leaden weight dragging you down from high aspiration and 
 achievement. 
 
 ' ' You say she is a good girl pretty noble sensible, 
 and all that. Perhaps she is I don't know ; I never paid 
 much attention to her, though, of course, one in your 
 condition is apt to exaggerate the facts, and multiply her 
 perfections a thousandfold. Maybe she is a fine young 
 woman, but that is not the question there are lots of 
 fine women in the world, as you will find out some day 
 just lots of them, and pretty too. Make your way in the 
 world, and you will have no difficulty in getting one worthy
 
 218 STUBS OF TIME. 
 
 of you, worthy in intellect, worthy in social position, 
 worthy in culture and breeding, and maybe with money, 
 too, who knows ? 
 
 " I would have put an end to Lane's tenancy years ago if 
 I had ever dreamed that his daughter was eventually to put 
 my son under such a spell, and make an ass of him. 
 
 " No, my son, you cannot get my consent you must 
 not marry her you shall not marry her if I can prevent it. 
 I will give the girl a talk myself ; and if you were to remain 
 here I'd soon get her out of the way ; but you must go out 
 into the world and make a name for yourself. This affair 
 must be broken up : you must leave right away : I will see 
 to it. I have high hopes of you, and they shall not be 
 thwarted. Your career shall not be nipped in the bud by a 
 silly little country girl." 
 
 III. 
 
 The next day John, heavy-hearted, and wishing to be 
 alone, started for the small lake a mile's distance through 
 the fields and woods, to fish, to think, to compose himself, 
 and, if possible, to determine. He wished to see Laura, but he 
 feared to do so until he had weighed well his father's words. 
 Having been trained in a due appreciation of filial duty, and 
 of the respect due the wisdom of parental advice, his father's 
 words could but have their influence with him. All the 
 morning, and the better part of the night he had vacillated 
 and questioned, trying to decide, but never doing so. His 
 father had arranged it all for him that he was to leave the 
 next day, and was even then having his things packed for
 
 AFTER ALL. 219 
 
 him ; but John had not determined, and could not 
 determine. 
 
 It was useless for him to fish : he absent-mindedly threw 
 his hook into the water without any bait on it, and sat 
 dreaming in the boat. 
 
 At length he could stand it no longer : he must see her : 
 she would answer all questions, dispel alKioubts. He got 
 up, dropped the rod in the boat, and started back, taking a 
 circuitous path which would bring him up in the rear of 
 Laura's home. 
 
 Lane's house sat out on the edge of a clearing. Back of 
 it there was a beautiful forest glade full of moss, ferns, and 
 violets. Through this a little stream ran singing and purling 
 over pebbles and yellow sand. Passing through the glade, 
 John came upon Laura digging violets. 
 
 Each started, seeing the other. She spoke first. 
 
 "I saw your father this morning; he told me you were 
 going to-morrow: I hoped I would not see you any more." 
 
 " Hoped you would not see me any more?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Why?" 
 
 " O, don't ask me." And there was a wail, and a sob, 
 and a heart full of anguish in the words. " I cannot stay 
 here with you," she continued, " I must not I must go 
 home." 
 
 He saw the tears in her eyes as she turned to go. 
 
 " Laura," he cried, rushing forward and catching her in 
 his arms, "you shall not go you must stay here and see 
 me, and let me talk with you." 
 
 " It will do no good," she said, " let me go."
 
 220 STUBS OF TIME. 
 
 " No, I will not till you promise to stay, and talk with me 
 a little while. Do you promise? " 
 
 " Yes, I suppose I'll have to." 
 
 "Then sit down here by me, and let's talk. You have 
 seen my father, you say? " 
 
 " Yes, we had a long talk, and I promised him I would 
 not see you any more before you left." 
 
 ' ' ' Before I left ! ' and have I said I was going yet ? 
 Laura, I cannot go I cannot leave you I will not ! We 
 will be married, and that right away." 
 
 "No, John," she said firmly, "we will not. I cannot, 
 and will not marry you I love you too well to do it. 
 Your father is right ; you would throw your life away were 
 you to marry me. You shall never do it." 
 
 ' ' You say you will not marry me because you love me too 
 well! that's no reason. Even if what my father says be 
 true, yet I am willing to make the sacrifice I want to 
 make it. I am willing to sacrifice all hopes, all ambitions 
 on the altar of love. -Family, pride, fame, wealth what- 
 ever share I have, or hope to have, in these things I am 
 ready to yield, if need be, for the sake of love." 
 
 " You think so now, but were I to marry you were I 
 to consent in a little while you would regret it. You are 
 now blinded with a passion which I know and believe to be 
 deep, true, and sincere, but, I fear, not lasting. In a little 
 while its warmth and enthusiasm might cool your eyes 
 would be opened you would regret bitterly the step you 
 had taken ; and your life would be blighted. I know you 
 would always love me always be kind and gentle ; but it 
 would not be the same love as that you feel for me to-day.
 
 AFTER ALL. 221 
 
 It would be the love of duty the love of pity the love of 
 a nature that resignedly makes the best of a result which itself 
 has brought about the love of a resolute will striving to 
 throw a glamour over its destiny manifestly dark. 
 
 " No, John, it must not be : I love you too much for it. 
 I love you deeply, passionately, truly ; but my nature is 
 not as impulsive as yours. You allow your judgment to be 
 swept away on the high tide of your emotions and impulses, 
 and looking at the pleasures of the present, you would take 
 rash steps, forgetting the resultant ills of the future." 
 
 " What shall we do, then? " he said, "we love each 
 other what shall we do ? Cursed be the social conditions 
 and customs which keep lovers apart. Shall we obey the 
 mandates of nature, or of man? which is the higher 
 law? Human laws, and human customs they are well 
 enough where the exigencies of society require them 
 necessitate them. But they are for the governance and 
 maintenance of the politic, and not the individual body. 
 Without them the social organism would be a chaos. But 
 you and I, here in this Arcadia in this quiet corner of 
 the world why should we be amenable to other laws than 
 nature's than God's? Love, and its fulfilment is God's 
 law ; shall we obey it or man's institutions? " 
 
 ' ' What do you mean ? ' ' 
 
 He slipped his arm around her, and looked into her eyes. 
 
 " What do I mean? I scarcely know what I mean. I 
 know but one thing now, Laura ; I know but one word 
 love love." 
 
 He kissed her once, twice, again. They kiss once 
 long.
 
 222 STUBS OF TIME. 
 
 And human nature, youth, and love is too much for them. 
 They pluck the golden fruit of sin. They fall. 
 
 The shades of evening darken as they go homeward. She 
 weeps silently : he has his arm about her. 
 
 " Now, I will marry you," he says ; " I'll have to, and 
 I want to." 
 
 " No, never," she answers; " I will repent; I shall be 
 forgiven. No harm will come of it. I sinned you sinned, 
 but it was because of love. There was no evil in our hearts. 
 We listened to the voice of love and nature, and they cried 
 so loud, we heard not the still, small voice. I am sure no 
 harm will come of it. You go into the world, and achieve 
 wealth and fame, and leave me and forget me." 
 
 They had now reached the gate that led into the yard of 
 her humble home. The voice of a distant whippoorwill 
 came in a sweet mellow monotony from the dark forest. A 
 crescent moon, and a bright evening star shone in the west 
 as bright brooches in the twilight's lambent veil. The dog 
 ran out barking, but stopped as he quickly knew them. A 
 gentle southern breeze brought them the fragrance of bloom- 
 ing honeysuckle. Instinctively, they stopped at the gate. 
 Both felt it was a crisis in their lives ; both felt that for 
 each it was a moment pregnant with an eternity of meaning. 
 Thus they stood for some moments, neither speaking, but 
 with swelling hearts, and souls full of inexpressible thoughts 
 and feelings. They felt borne away from the surrounding 
 realities borne out, beyond, far away into the infinities of 
 being, into the illimitable circuits of destiny. John drew 
 her closer to him. 
 
 " I will go," he whispered ; " but I shall come back soon.
 
 AFTER ALL. 223 
 
 Success can but come quickly to me when I work for you 
 when I remember this moment. Wait for me: we are young 
 yet : in five years I shall be able to defy the criticism of the 
 world." 
 
 Thus spoke the sanguine blood of youth. Thus spoke 
 the intoxicated blood of love. Thus spoke the young heart 
 which knew not the ways of the world and life. 
 
 He bowed his head, and the lips of the young lovers met, 
 and their souls leapt together in a farewell kiss. 
 
 John thought great things as he walked home. His senses 
 and emotions were still in a tumult. At one time he would 
 stop and kneel beneath the stars, and pray with a deep, 
 yearning humility. What he prayed he could not have told ; 
 for the prayer was felt rather than spoken or thought. 
 Again, he would clench his fist in some wild impulsive de- 
 termination or resolution ; while again he would walk rapidly 
 along whistling merrily, and with buoyant hopes. Such is 
 the young heart. 
 
 Laura stood looking up at the starry skies for some time 
 after John had gone. In her bosom, too, were great con- 
 flicting emotions. Now big tears welled up in her eyes, so 
 that the stars seemed to swim and flicker in the heavens. 
 Then a great softness, a great tenderness, seemed to swell 
 in her soul, embracing all the universe, all eternity. Anon, 
 and her heart seemed to shrink, and wither away ; the foun- 
 tains of her tears ran dry ; her feelings seemed acrid ; her 
 soul bitter. She felt as if a great cloud of sorrow, dark 
 and smothering, rolled over her being. After awhile she 
 brushed the tears away, and composing her features as best 
 she could, turned towards the door.
 
 224 STUBS OF TIME. 
 
 Inside, the humble supper was spread, and her father and 
 mother, seated at opposite ends of the plain wooden table, 
 were partaking of it. They did not even look up as she 
 came in and took her seat at the side of the table. They 
 were stolid, indifferent persons, with unimaginative minds 
 contracted and hardened by lives of pleasureless toil. After 
 Laura had helped herself to the simple fare, and was making 
 pretense to eat, they both looked up at her as though think- 
 ing of her for the first time since she entered. 
 
 " What makes you so late? and what's the matter with 
 you? " her father asked. 
 
 " Nothing; the evening was pleasant, and I came along 
 slowly." 
 
 " Been with John Ardslye again, haven't you? " 
 
 " Yes, I saw him." 
 
 " And you have been crying. What did he do to make 
 you cry ? ' ' 
 
 "Nothing." 
 
 This was all that was said at the table ; and save for the 
 clatter of the crockery and knives and forks, the meal 
 proceeded silently to its end. 
 
 During the interrogatories, Laura's mother never raised 
 her eyes from her plate, or showed in any way that she was 
 interested. She wore a set, sphinx-like expression which 
 seldom changed, and her movements were always those of 
 an automaton. To all appearances she might have been a 
 piece of machinery constructed for the performance of 
 domestic duties, and endowed with no faculties other than 
 were necessary for that purpose. 
 
 Both Laura's father and mother knew that there were
 
 AFTER ALL. 225 
 
 relations existing between young Ardslye and their daughter. 
 Just what those relations were they probably did not know, 
 nor put themselves to sufficient mental effort to find out. 
 Whatever the relationship was, and whatever its results, 
 they thought they could not lose seriously; while great 
 benefits might redound to them from it. Of family pride 
 they had none, and to have their name coupled, even by 
 scandal, with that of the most cultured and highly respect- 
 able young man of the neighborhood was considered by 
 them more of an honor than a disgrace. Then, even if the 
 worst came, they had vague ideas about the efficacy of the 
 law in enforcing marriage or a pecuniary atonement. There 
 were the possibilities of blackmail, too; and all things being 
 considered, the relationship, whatever it might be, was to 
 be encouraged rather than interfered with. It was also 
 possible, they thought, that the young man's intentions 
 were solely those of honorable marriage ; for they were con- 
 scious of how superior their daughter was to themselves, by 
 reason of her wide reading and refined tastes ; acd as par- 
 ents always see their children's merits very much magni- 
 fied, they thought it probable that Laura might marry far 
 above her station in life. So they had winked at rather 
 than restrained her keeping company with John. 
 
 IV. 
 
 The following day John leaves for a great northern city ; 
 he opens an office for the practice of his profession, and 
 though of moderate means, his good looks, refinement, cul- 
 
 15
 
 226 STUBS OF TIME. 
 
 turc and talents are immediate passports to the best circles 
 of society. 
 
 As time goes on, he loses in large part his natiye sterling 
 and original depth of character and integrity, and becomes 
 polished, but more superficial and worldly, like many young 
 society men raised in a great city. Yet there still slumbers 
 in his heart some sparks of the old fires : at intervals they 
 glow, and warm, and flicker, sending a thrill of sweet, sad 
 yearning through his spirit. Of evenings when he had re- 
 turned from a ball he would sometimes sit before his fire 
 and smoke, and dream a while. The glamour of the ball 
 room had faded ; the gilt and garish excitement was gone ; 
 and the old visions and ideals would rise up before him. 
 As he mused in the dim light and quiet of his room, half 
 awake, half asleep, he would fancy that he saw the face of 
 Laura floating in the smoke before him dim , uncertain , 
 but beautiful and sorrowful. He would see her as she was 
 when they were children together, just in their teens, play- 
 ing and romping round the straw-stacks, and roaming the 
 woods and fields. There was the little peach-blow face 
 with its clear blue eyes, and carmine lips with their childish 
 pout. There was the maze of tousled gold hair floating in 
 a wanton aureole about her head. 
 
 Then the smoke would waver, and the face vanish to re- 
 appear as it was some years later. Now it was maturer, 
 but still with all the naive beauty and innocence of a child. 
 The eyes were deeper, and love spoke from them. The face 
 had an expression of deep, conscious joy. So she had been 
 at eighteen when first love bourgeoned in her soul, and all 
 the latent graces of her being quickened . So she had been
 
 AFTER ALL. 227 
 
 when he, too, first knew what love was when he had 
 first whispered the tender words in her ear, awkward and 
 trembling, yet knowing she loved him. 
 
 Again the vision changed, and there was her face as he 
 saw it last, in the pale moonlight and twilight, white and 
 fearful, but fair, and full of confiding hope. There she was 
 standing before the door of the lowly home into which he 
 had brought shame : there she was after the crisis of her 
 life, full of undefined fears, but strong in her love and trust 
 of him. And he well, he would not think of it: no good 
 could come of it. He would go to bed. It was but a silly 
 misgiving but a silly doubt which rose in his breast as to 
 whether he had thrown away the best in life whether he 
 had sacrificed life's truest blessings on the altar of ambition. 
 Was he not successful? Had he not already, in a measure, 
 achieved wealth and distinction? Were those things not 
 worth more than the love of a plain country girl? Cer- 
 tainly sed quaere? And John would go to bed. 
 
 In the morning it was the cold, practical, business world 
 again ; and last night's dreams were not worth a moment's 
 thought. 
 
 Heredity may furnish the material for the character, but 
 it is environment which molds and shapes it. Heredity and 
 environment these are the potters of the human clay. 
 
 John's character was necessarily affected by his sur- 
 roundings. Under the stress of condition and circumstance 
 he became more conventional, more mercenary. 
 
 Thus matters tended until one night at a ball, John met 
 Mrs. Van Bergen, and as he saw more of this lady, she
 
 228 STUBS OF TIME. 
 
 became a factor in his life and began to exercise a strong 
 influence over his actions, if not over his character. 
 
 Mrs. Van Bergen was a very wealthy and pretty, but very 
 frivolous young widow. Violence of passions and emotions 
 were, her only characteristics which the fickleness of her 
 nature did not render uncertain. If there was any stable 
 quality in her at all, it was her love of excitement and sen- 
 sation. She possessed the love of sensation as the one con- 
 stant star in a mental horoscope of comets and meteors. 
 
 When Mrs. Van Bergen met John Ardslye, with her, it 
 was love at first sight violent, passionate love. He 
 immediately became her fad, her hobbj , her latest and most 
 delightful source of pleasurable excitement. How glorious 
 it was to be in love ! And how she adored him ! After the 
 ball she went home all a-tingle with the joyous conscious- 
 ness of her new passion. How she had longed to be in love 
 again after she had gotten tired of her husband; and how, 
 after his death, that desire had been quadrupled. But it 
 was something which money could not buy, and all her 
 wealth had been unavailing to purchase the thing she most 
 desired. And now it had come unbidden, and unexpected. 
 Life was worth living again. She would feel blase no 
 longer : she was in love. How joyous ! How exhilarating ! 
 She would revel in the delectable intoxication of her new 
 passion. No doubt as to the reciprocation of her love 
 entered her mind. She was accustomed to having her own 
 way, and enforcing her will in every thing. Her beauty 
 and wealth had generally cleared her path of all obstacles 
 except those imposed by her own nature. She did not 
 doubt for a moment but that he would love her too. While
 
 AFTER ALL. 229 
 
 the enthusiasm of her moods lasted she had unbounded con- 
 fidence in herself a confidence which, in fact, seldom 
 failed to carry her points. Of course he would love her, 
 too, if he did not already. He could not he dare not do 
 otherwise. 
 
 For a long time Mrs. Van Bergen lay awake while such 
 thoughts rushed through her heated brain. Then she fell 
 asleep, and dreamed of John. 
 
 The next day she gave an entertainment at her own house, 
 a few select friends being invited. Really, if not nominally, 
 John was treated as the guest of honor. While dancing 
 with him the preceding night, Mrs. Van Bergen had planned 
 it all, quick as a flash, and had invited him, telling him that 
 he must come, and that she would hear no refusal. John 
 was willing enough, and was promptly on hand. Society 
 in the city held it a great privilege to be the guest of Mrs. 
 Van Bergen, and John congratulated himself upon his easy 
 entree into the exclusive circles. It did not take him long 
 to guess the cause of the favor shown him. Indeed, Mrs. 
 Van Bergen was at no pains to conceal it ; and after the 
 entertainment at her house it was the talk of the town. 
 Her attentions to John, her smiles, and graciousness 
 towards him told a tale which was unmistakable. In the 
 course of the evening, she got him off in a secluded nook, 
 upon a cushioned divan behind some palms, and there held 
 a lengthy tete-a-tete with him, while the rest of the company 
 was left under the auspicies of an old friend who took the 
 role of hostess. 
 
 As they sat together in the subdued light, surrounded by 
 flowers, while the strains of soft sweet music seemed to
 
 230 STUBS OF TIME. 
 
 sound a reveille to gentle pssslons, John looked at her, 
 and felt a thrill very like love, even though it were but love 
 of the moment. She looked her best in evening dress, 
 and she knew it. Her neck, and arms, and shoulders were 
 perfect smooth, white, and rounded as though cast in 
 Venus's own mold. Were love fatal, a look into her beau- 
 tiful eyes, then brilliant with her passion, would be danger- 
 ous. It was enough to make the brain reel. 
 
 John sat there by her side, talking shop. His heart 
 became the playground of conflicting emotions. It was not 
 long before he was sure of her infatuation for him, and he 
 was overwhelmed with the suddenness of what might mean 
 a very momentous state of affairs for him. He was em- 
 barrassed, perplexed, and he wanted time to weigh the mat- 
 ter in his mind. One moment he would think himself in 
 love with her another, and she would seem repellent to 
 him. Then the great possibilities of a marriage with her 
 would flash through his mind : what eclat, what success it 
 would be. 
 
 " Suppose we go and try that waltz," he said presently, 
 after a lull in the conversation, when he was fearful lest she 
 should bring on some crisis which he was not yet prepared to 
 meet. 
 
 " Don't you think it is more pleasant sitting here? " she 
 said, looking up into his eyes, " it is so warm dancing, 
 and if I dance with you I will have to dance with others." 
 
 " And don't you want to dance with others? " 
 
 " No, I care very little for dancing, anyhow. I think it 
 is a queer custom an invention, I suppose, by fast girls 
 for the benefit of bashful men. I don't care to have promis-
 
 AFTER ALL. 231 
 
 cuous men putting their arms around me in public ; and if I 
 like a man, I had just as soon he do it in private." 
 
 "Do you like me? " 
 
 She did not reply, but looked up at him for an instant, 
 and then let her eyes fall till the glorious lashes seemed to 
 sweep her cheek, and even in the dim light John could see 
 the color deepen and spread on her face. There was still- 
 ness and a pause for a moment; and then he silently put his 
 arm around her. 
 
 V. 
 
 For some time after coming to the city John had kept up 
 a correspondence with Laura. At first it was three letters a 
 week he sent her : then two : then one ; then it lapsed into 
 irregularity, and he answered her letters now and then 
 when he had nothing else to do. Gradually, as she seemed 
 to recede further and further out of his life, he stopped 
 writing to her altogether. Letter after letter came from her 
 asking him what was the matter. Some of them brought 
 violets from the woodland glade where they used to play ; 
 one brought a lock of her hair; and others, simple, touching 
 tokens of the love of a country child. 
 
 John would read these letters and stick them away in a 
 private drawer. Not one did he ever destroy, or leave un- 
 opened. Though, as his knowledge of the world broadened, 
 he would often smile as he read some of their tender, unaf- 
 fected passages. Sometimes, too, he would feel a pang of 
 remorse, or a tear would come in his eye. But then he 
 would persuade himself that he was in no way to blame for 
 his inconstancy. Fate had marked him for a higher des-
 
 232 STUBS OF TIME. 
 
 tiny ; his father had been right ; and it was his duty to 
 strangle the love, the silly passion, which would not ad- 
 vance him in the world. 
 
 Finally there came a letter the last she ever wrote him 
 telling him of her shame of her approaching motherhood. 
 Thus it ran in part : 
 
 " I have been fearing it for some time, but I was not certain, and 
 said nothing of it to you. But now 1 know it, and every one else 
 does. My father has been cruel brutal to me, and has bidden 
 me leave his house. I go to-morrow, gladly where, I know not; 
 but I have become an outcast, and all my friends now scorn me, 
 and look upon me as a degraded wietch. In my heart there is no 
 sense of shame I loved you I love you still, and I will love my 
 child; but I cannot stand the contumely of my friends and acquaint- 
 ances. Do not think that I am unhappy, or that I would say any- 
 thing to make you unhappy. We followed the dictates of love, 
 and why should we regret it? And though we are offenders against 
 the laws of mankind, I believe that before the Highest Tribunal 
 we stand forgiven, if not guiltless. 
 
 " I will always pray for you; I will always love you. And rest 
 assured, that if God be willing your child shall have a decent rais- 
 ing. While I live it shall ne\er need anything a watchful and 
 loving mother can give. Deeper than the sorrow I feel because I 
 am disgraced in the eyes of the world deeper than any impres- 
 sion my circumstances and surroundings can ever make upon me, 
 there is a joy in my heart. 1 will always hold to, and cherish the 
 ideals we saw and strove for those ideals of the mind, the heart, 
 and the soul when we were together reading, talking, and 
 rambling through the woodlands, and always under first love's 
 hallowed auspices. If the memory of these things is painful to 
 you, forget them. I will ever take pride and pleasure in the suc- 
 cess and fame which I know will be yours. Your success will be 
 my joy. And I will always be thankful that we parted unwed, and 
 that I am not as a stumbling block in the pathway of your glorious
 
 AFTER ALL. 233 
 
 career as a canker in the heart of your high hopes as a mor- 
 tification to your noble pride; and as a millstone about your 
 neck, dragging you down from the course of high endeavor. 
 Good-bye." 
 
 After reading this letter, John's first impulse was to leave 
 the city at once, giving up all his bright prospects in life, 
 and go and seek Laura, marry her, and settle down in some 
 quiet nook of the world, in peace and contentment, could 
 he find them. There was little chance of his taking this 
 radical course if he hesitated, and hesitate he did. 
 
 When two courses lie open to a man, the one an extreme 
 departure, the other conservative and discreet, he will seldom 
 take the former unless he acts quickly under the spur of the 
 moment. Let there be deliberation, reckoning, and weigh- 
 ing, and the latter course will be taken. 
 
 John did not act on the emotion of the moment, and that 
 emotion soon 'grew cool. He deferred the hasty action 
 prompted by sentiment until he could see the matter in the 
 light of worldly wisdom. Having seen it thus, he laughed 
 at himself for thinking, even for an instant, of taking such 
 a step. 
 
 Reason and sentiment are often at variance ; but give time 
 and room for reason to have its play, and it will generally 
 come out conqueror. 
 
 John thought of his engagement, and approaching mar- 
 riage with Mrs. Van Bergen ; he thought of the dazzling 
 brilliancy of the career he had entered upon. Was he not 
 soon to be married to the wealthiest aye, and one of the 
 most beautiful women in the city? Was not his happiness 
 and success assured ? The idea of his giving up these pros-
 
 234 STUBS OF TIME. 
 
 pects for the sake of a little silly sentiment, and boyish 
 passion ! 
 
 Then, when the question arose in his mind of the duty and 
 moral responsibility resting on him to do all in his power to 
 right the wrong he had done, he would reason that she had 
 exonerated him herself. She said she was not unhappy, and 
 that his happiness would always be hers. What more could 
 he do? The wrong he committed was done without evil in- 
 tention. He could plead the statute of youth and the 
 delirium of love. He was sorry that it had resulted as it 
 did, but he could not help it now. He wondered what would 
 become of her, and of his child. There was the pang 
 his child the child of the girl he had loved. He felt his 
 heart swell, and his eye grow moist as he thought of it all. 
 
 But now there came a knock at the door, and these mus- 
 ings must be banished. Present conditions confronted him. 
 
 In response to John's " come in " the liveried footman of 
 Mrs. Van Bergen entered. He bore a perfumed note from 
 his mistress, whom John had not seen for several days, as 
 she had been to a distant city in order to perfect some 
 arrangements for the brilliant wedding she had planned. 
 The note ran : 
 
 ' MY DEAREST JOHN: 
 
 I have just gotten back, and am pining to see you. Though 
 only for a week, the separation has seemed an age. I was very 
 fatigued when I arrived, but the prospect of seeing you soon has 
 refreshed me. Come over this afternoon, and we will take a drive 
 in the park. O, how impatient I am to see you! O, how impatient 
 I am for the wedding day! And what a weariness is all this prep-
 
 AFTER ALL. 235 
 
 aration and waiting! Hurry up and come, or I shall die of love- 
 sickness. With what zest you have thrilled life for me! Hurry 
 up and come. Youu LOVING MAUD." 
 
 John gravely read this characteristic billet doux, deliber- 
 ately refolded it, placed it in its envelope, and put it in his 
 pocket. The stolid, statuesque footman standing by with 
 folded arms and immobile face saw no change of expression 
 as he read it. 
 
 This footman, though outwardly an automaton when acting 
 in his official capacity among his superiors, was extremely 
 human when with his peers in the servants' hall. Among 
 them he was known as a delightful gossip and talker who 
 never suffered a day to go by but that he retailed to them 
 some racy bit of news, prophecy, or scandal which he had 
 gathered or improvised while on his daily rounds. He had 
 a most lively imagination, and from the merest thread of 
 evidence or fact could weave a wonderful web of intrigue. 
 His mind was as a blotter ever ready to absorb the inky 
 smudges of scandalous gossip. All day long he went 
 around in the mechanical performance of his duties, while 
 his senses were ever in a state of alert receptivity to the 
 smallest breath of anything which savored of gossip. While 
 he watched John read the note, the blank expression of his 
 face did not indicate in the slightest degree the eager activ- 
 ity of his mind as he surmised and drew his conclusions. 
 It was the chief aim of his life to keep well informed as to 
 the amours of his mistress. 
 
 John answered the note briefly, saying he would come. 
 Of course, it was necessary to throw in a few dulcet words
 
 236 STUBS OF TIME. 
 
 and phrases too. Then he sealed and gave it to Tapper, 
 the footman. 
 
 Tupper did not return directly to Mrs. Van Bergen 's with 
 the note. He took a circuitous route and came into the 
 house by the servants' entrance, and went around to the 
 kitchen. As he came along he had held the note up to the 
 light, pressing the envelope tightly, looking at it in every 
 angle, trying to see if he could read any words through the 
 paper. But his efforts were fruitless the paper was of 
 a delicate tint of coloring, and was opaque. 
 
 On reaching the kitchen, he went up to a kettle which was 
 sending a jet of hot steam into the air. He held the letter 
 in the steam for some minutes, and then with his knife care- 
 fully loosened the seal and opened it. The cook and sev- 
 eral other servants witnessed this operation, and had gath- 
 ered around him in awed silence. Such happenings were 
 not of uncommon occurrence in the kitchen, and occasioned 
 no surprise, but only increased their admiration for Tupper, 
 and redounded to his glory. They looked upon one who 
 had the daring and ingenuity to do such deeds as a hero. 
 The few questions they asked in ominous whispers, Tupper 
 deprecated with an imperious uplifting of his hand, and a 
 grave, portentous shake of the head. He recognized his 
 leadership, his power, his prestige, and it would not do to 
 be too condescending. He silently brushed them aside, and 
 perused the note himself, holding it high above their heads. 
 As he read it, he would purse his lips, grunt, stretch his 
 eyes, raise his brows, and then assume an expression of great 
 gravity and wisdom. He ran the whole gamut of facial ex- 
 pression, well knowing how such proceedings intensified the
 
 AFTER ALL. 237 
 
 excruciating curiosity of the others. Having finished read- 
 ing, he solemnly cleared his throat, and then taking note 
 book and pencil from a secret pocket, he sat down and 
 quickly copied the note. Another solemn clearing of the 
 throat, and he walks to a corner shelf of the kitchen, moves 
 several jars, turns up a box, and takes out a bottle of muci- 
 lage. He applies the brush, and carefully re-seals the letter, 
 holding it up over the stove a while to dry. Then, still ignor- 
 ing the presence of the other servants, he replaces the letter 
 in his pocket, and stalks out. 
 
 VI. 
 
 When John went over to Mrs. Van Bergen's that after- 
 noon, he found her in hat and wraps impatiently awaiting 
 him, while her handsome trap and dashing pair of bays were 
 at the door. As he came in she rushed forward and dramati- 
 cally threw her arms around his neck. 
 
 Tupper, whose eye was at the key-hole, reproduced the 
 scene that night in the servants' hall in capital burlesque, 
 getting one of the maids to represent Mrs. Van Bergen, 
 while he impersonated John. 
 
 Mrs. Van Bergen's hysterical manifestation of her love 
 having abated, she and John went out, and started on their 
 drive. On through the park they went, and out into the 
 country beyond, the spirited horses speeding away without 
 urging by whip or word. Soon the last scattering houses of 
 the suburbs lay behind them, but they kept on, going 
 rapidly over the fine road stretching through field and 
 woodland, passing here and there an occasional farm house
 
 238 STUBS OF TIME. 
 
 with its neat barn and fences, its weathercock and wind- 
 mill. 
 
 " I thought perhaps we would enjoj it," said Mrs. Van 
 Bergen, when the last house of the suburbs had receded 
 from view, " as I am still a little fatigued, and maybe you 
 are too after the morning's work ; so I brought a little 
 wine champagne along. Reach down, John, dearest, 
 and take the bottles from under the seat. We are out on 
 a lovers' lark, and can dispense with glasses, and drink it 
 from the bottle as we go along." 
 
 John took out the bottles as directed ; and they quaffed 
 the genial beverage in no stinted quantity, their method of 
 drinking not admitting of an exact gage. Having drunk as 
 much as their discretion or inclination dictated, the bottles 
 were replaced under the seat, and they drove on Mrs. 
 Van Bergen prattling away, admiring the scenery, and say- 
 ing amorous nothings. 
 
 " Glorious! " she exclaimed. How happy I am! John, 
 why are you so silent? you seem low-spirited." 
 
 "No, you misinterpret my silence, Maud: do you not 
 think that there are times when all words seem trite and 
 commonplace ? Do you not sometimes feel that words are 
 but a poor medium for the communication of soul with soul ? 
 Do you not believe in love's telepathy? and that, when two 
 souls are surcharged with love's electricity, words are vain 
 and unnecessary that to the highly sensitive nature im- 
 mersed in love's divinest emotion they may even be grat- 
 ing and unwelcome? Well, that is the way I feel now. 
 Let us look into each other's eyes, Maud that is better 
 than talking."
 
 AFTER ALL. 239 
 
 There can be little doubt as to the sincerity of these words 
 of John at the time they were spoken. Companionship 
 with this beautiful woman had intoxicated him with momen- 
 tary love, which with his youth and inexperience he took to 
 be eternal. What man with red blood in his veins would 
 not have capitulated to the Little Tyrant under such circum- 
 stances ? 
 
 A beautiful woman is the greatest winner of momentary 
 victories in the world. She can bend the iron will of man 
 as though it were a reed. Reason strikes its colors to her ; 
 wisdom becomes her slave; even Honor herself, will often, 
 at her bidding, cast her spotless escutcheon in the dust. 
 
 What wonder that John should be victimized when he had 
 placed himself so completely in the enemy's power? He 
 was in Cupid's cul-de-sac. Out driving on a fair autumn 
 afternoon with a beautiful woman along a lonely road. A 
 man far less susceptible than he would have been vanquished 
 under similar conditions. Nor was it the first time John had 
 felt he loved her. He had felt himself carried away by her 
 before : so now he fell an easy victim. When in her pres- 
 ence, and in the high tide of the emotion she aroused in him, 
 he never thought how ephemeral and transient those feelings 
 were, or how he looked upon them in soberer and more 
 rational moments. His whole individuality would be 
 merged in the infatuation of the moment, and he would 
 live only in the present, looking neither before nor behind. 
 He believed implicitly that she loved him with a love which 
 could never die. It was easier for him to believe in her love 
 than in his own ; and once believing in hers, it made his, 
 such as it was, seem more probable. John had many
 
 240 STUBS OF TIME. 
 
 strong points of character, but his love of the fair sex over- 
 mastered all other qualities of his nature. If it may be 
 called a weakness, it was his greatest. His love very 
 much like Mrs. Van Bergen's in many ways resembled an 
 avalanche sudden, overwhelming and of short duration. 
 Without premonition it swept down upon him, while his 
 reason, resolutions, and purposes were helpless before it. 
 
 When John finished speaking, Mrs. Van Bergen drew a 
 deep sigh, and looked up in his eyes as he requested. 
 The road was lonely ; the horses were trotting along at a 
 steady, even gait, and the November sunset was throwing a 
 light of gold and rose over the earth. There was her pretty 
 face so close to his ; there were her big, lustrous eyes with 
 their gentle, dove-like expression, looking into his. John 
 bent over and kissed her. 
 
 Happy lovers ! they are engaged soon to be mar- 
 ried nothing improper. Let us not intrude ; for the reins 
 have slipped from John's hands, and unobserved by the 
 blissful pair, are dangling over the dash board. 
 
 Now one of the horses is named Daisy, and the other is 
 Turk ; and both are feeling lively and playful this after- 
 noon, as the air is cool and bracing. They have been 
 frolicking, and teasing each other more or less all during the 
 drive. Turk would lean over and bite Daisy on the neck, 
 and Daisy would switch her tail, and back her ears, and 
 snap back. As the sun goes down, and the air gets more 
 nip in it, they get still more hilarious. 
 
 " Where the deuce can they be driving us to, do you sup- 
 pose? " Turk says to Daisy, "I never was so far out in 
 the country before in my life. Doesn't that farmer's fodder
 
 AFTER ALL. 241 
 
 stack over there smell good ! I'm getting hungry, too. 
 It's high time we were going back." 
 
 "Yes," said Daisy, "I think so myself. I'm getting 
 hungry enough to eat wet shucks. I should think it was 
 time we were going back. I begin to feel nervous, too 
 so far out in the country, and night coming on. Think I 
 would jump out of my skin if a rabbit ran across the road." 
 
 "O, shucks! I am not nervous, but feeling mighty 
 frisky, barring a little emptiness. I'm enjoying this out- 
 ing. Wish I was a country horse. Doesn't this ground 
 feel nice and soft under your feet, and isn't the air fresh? 
 We city horses don't have any fun. If I was a country 
 horse I'd break into somebody's cornfield every day. One 
 enjoys grub so much more when it's seasoned with mischief. 
 B'lieve I'd rather have a stolen cornstalk for my supper in 
 the country, than to have barley and meal, and be cooped 
 up in the city. Gracious me ! they've let the reins drop ; 
 they must have gone to sleep. Tell you what let's do, 
 Daisy you see those juicy looking hayricks over there in 
 that field, don't you? well, I'm in for a frolic: sup- 
 pose we kick up our heels, and break loose from this infernal 
 runabout, and go over there, and enjoy ourselves. Won't 
 it be jolly wallowing in it, and eating it at the same time? 
 And then there's a calf out there that we can chase, and 
 tease its old ma ; and when she runs at us we can give her 
 our heels in the face. My ! it's the chance of a lifetime. 
 That pair back there have gone to sleep and forgotten us : 
 they are lovers, you know. I do hate to be driven by 
 lovers they usually drive slowly, but they drive so devilish 
 long, and they are so selfish and absent-minded. We will 
 
 16
 
 242 STUBS OF TIME. 
 
 just give that couple back there a gentle reminder that we 
 are still living, and are not going to be imposed upon. 
 They are treating us shamefully. While they feast on love, 
 they ought to be willing for their poor horses to have a 
 little hay. They forget that you and I are not lovers, 
 Daisy, and need a solid practical supper." 
 
 "But," Daisy demurred, " we haven't any excuse to run 
 away. Whoever heard of horses running away without any 
 excuse? If something would just happen to give us an 
 excuse to get scared : if a bicycle or bear would only come 
 along ; but to run away all of a sudden without any excuse 
 would be rather peculiar." 
 
 " Pshaw! you females are always higgling about excuses 
 and appearances. What better excuse do you want than 
 those reins hanging down there, and dangling on your legs? 
 Any horse with any mettle wouldn't stand that sort of a 
 thing. Now I am going to count, and when I say ' three', 
 we both will kick up at the same time, and tear down the 
 road as hard as we can, dash up that bank, jump over the 
 fence, and into the field. If we do it right, I think we can 
 leave the vehicle on this side of the fence. I think the 
 harness will be pretty well loosened up by the time we get 
 up the bank." 
 
 " All right I don't care go ahead." 
 
 VII. 
 
 The next instant the preoccupation of John and Mrs. 
 Van Bergen was interrupted by a violent lurch of the vehi- 
 cle as it suddenly came to a standstill. The horses reared
 
 AFTER ALL. 243 
 
 and plunged, the shafts cracked, and Mrs. Van Bergen 
 screamed. John made a frantic effort to catch the reins, 
 but they were under the horses' heels, and before he could 
 regain his presence of mind, the horses commenced to tear 
 down the road at a fearful rate of speed. Hardly had they 
 gotten well under way, with the earth flying, and the wheels 
 nearly humming, when they swerved violently to the right, 
 dashed up a steep bank several feet high, overturning the 
 vehicle, and then jumped the fence at the top of the 
 elevation. 
 
 The lovers were thrown violently out, and rolled down 
 the bank in mingled confusion. But save a few bruises, 
 the shock and jolting, neither was hurt. The trap, with the 
 exception of the shafts and two front wheels and axle, which 
 were still attached to the horses, was a mass of wreckage 
 lying by the fence. The horses, with the fore wheels after 
 them, trotted complacently to the hayricks at some distance 
 in the field, and there stopped and proceeded to enjoy them- 
 selves. 
 
 Meantime, John and Mrs. Van Bergen picked themselves 
 up, testing their limbs, and examining their persons, fearful 
 lest they discover some fracture or injury. They were a 
 dejected looking pair, with their soiled and torn clothes, 
 their bruised and scratched faces. 
 
 " Are you injured, John, dearest? " Mrs. Van Bergen in- 
 quired as soon as she had collected her senses, and tested 
 the soundness of her own limbs. 
 
 "No, I believe not," said John, shaking himself, and 
 brushing the earth off his coat. He forced a sorry laugh,
 
 244 STUBS OF TIME. 
 
 being disposed to make light of the matter. " Are you 
 hurt, Maud? " he inquired. 
 
 "I scarcely know yet ah! dear, it was so sudden 
 how did it happen? what made them runaway? John, 
 dear, are you certain you are not injured internally? I 
 have heard of so many persons who were injured internally 
 and did not know it for several days. O, John, if you 
 should be injured internally ! And just suppose one of us 
 had been killed or injured for life. Suppose you were 
 killed, and I was not oh! oh! Thank Heaven it is 
 not so thank Heaven!" And Mrs. Van Bergen sank 
 down quite overcome with the thought. 
 
 " Well, we haven't time to indulge in sentimental ifs and 
 might-have-beens," John said. " You see, Maud, it is 
 nearly dark, and we are miles from town, and with no means 
 of getting there. We are in this lonely country, and night's 
 upon us. We will have to see if we can find any farm house 
 around here where we can get lodging for the night. You 
 see the condition of our vehicle, and its no use fooling with 
 the horses. Come on, I see a column of smoke rising 
 over the trees yonder: let's make our way towards it." 
 
 He slipped his arm about her, and they started. On 
 rounding the turn of the road, they came in view of an 
 humble, one-story, frame dwelling house. It had a certain 
 degree of homelike comfort and cosiness, which, added to 
 the savory odor of the evening meal that greeted their 
 olfactories, made the hearts of the disconsolate pair feel 
 lighter. 
 
 They knocked at the door, and an elderly, roughly dressed 
 man, with a long beard, and rather kindly face, opened it,
 
 AFTER ALL 245 
 
 and having greeted them with a cordial bow, bade them 
 walk in. They told him their story briefly, and asked if 
 they could get accommodations for the night. 
 
 " Well, well," their host said, as he ushered them into 
 the chief bed and sitting-room of the house, where there 
 appeared to be a considerable gathering of visitors around 
 the fireplace, "I thought you was some of the weddin' 
 guests. Had a runaway, and smashup, eh? Well, I sup- 
 pose we'll hev to store you 'way somewheves don't like 
 to be unhospital. From the city, eh? how come you to 
 be 'way out in these backwoods? and what air you hus- 
 band and wife brother and sister cousins, or jus' 
 friends? Friends? yes, I see: no ties of blood or 
 effinity. You look like mighty good friends, and you must 
 be, or you wouldn't risk your necks for each other as you 
 seem to have done this evenin'. Well, I'm sorry you ain't 
 married, and will hev to hev separate quarters. We air 
 crowded here this evenin' and will hev a hard time storin' 
 you 'way in separate departments. You see, I am a jestice 
 of the peace, and am going to marry a couple here to-night ; 
 and there's to be a dance and gineral big-to-do, and course 
 my house is full almost to the bustiu' limit. However, I 
 think we can do something with you my old 'oman is very 
 ingenious in packing things, and 'conomizing space but I 
 wish you was a married couple, jus' for the sake of conveni- 
 ence. You two step in this side room, and I'll give you a 
 chance to wash some of that dirt out of your eyes. You both 
 look like you been run through a sausage mill, and then put 
 to makin' mud pies." 
 
 He led them into a smaller apartment adjoining the
 
 246 STUBS OF TIME. 
 
 sitting room, and giving ihem a pitcher of water, a tin 
 basin, a cake' of home-made soap, and a rough towel, he 
 closed the door, and left them to perform their toilet, after 
 telling them as he went out : " Y'all better spink up best 
 you know how : this is goin' to be a real gran' weddin' here 
 to-night." 
 
 Left to themselves, John and Mrs. Van Bergen looked at 
 each other, both smiling. 
 
 "Quite an experience, Maud," John said. 
 
 " It is indeed ; but do you know, John, dear, that an idea 
 has occurred to me ? ' ' 
 
 " No, dear, I did not ; what is it? " 
 
 " Well, our narrow escape this evening has made me re- 
 flect on the extreme uncertainty of life and of the fulfilment 
 of all mundane hopes of happiness. How often it is that 
 through a little delay, or some unforeseen accident we miss 
 the dearest boons of life ; and I have come to the con- 
 clusion that it is our duty that we should always avail 
 ourselves of present opportunities of happiness that we 
 should never delay clinching the nail of our joys. We 
 have only the present, and we should pluck its fruits while 
 in our reach : who knows how soon they will be rotten and 
 fallen. Fate is fickle: let us quaff the wine she offers us 
 to-day, or to-morrow it may be a beaker of woe. Let us 
 not scorn to pluck the flowers along the present path in hope 
 of more beautiful ones beyond. Further on there may be 
 only thistles. Procrastinate drinking the cup of joy, and 
 very likely it will be dashed from your lips. 
 
 " Yes, John, dear, you see I've been led to take a deep, 
 sober, and philosophic view of these things think how
 
 AFTER ALL. 247 
 
 easily one of us might have been killed but there are other 
 considerations too. I am sick and tired of all this prepara- 
 tion for a grand wedding and big display. I am thoroughly 
 worn out with it all what good is it ? I have had one 
 big wedding, and I know how tiresome and empty it all is, 
 even when one is not desperately in love, and might enjoy a 
 little ostentation. What good is in it all? just a gaudy 
 show for the populace just gossip for the newspapers 
 just a public, glaring, garish manifestation of that event 
 the welding of two souls which the loving heart says 
 should be quiet and modest as possible. The sacred altar 
 of matrimony should not be made a place of posing for the 
 galleries. The prayer of the marriage service should not be 
 made a genuflection to the crowd. 
 
 " And then we should have some thought and considera- 
 tion for these kind people who have taken us in to-night, 
 and who for the sake of kindness and hospitality, subject 
 themselves to inconvenience and trouble. Yes, all things 
 being considered, John, dear, I see no reason why we should 
 not be married to-night, married here by this good man, 
 and have it all over with. It will be such a relief. We 
 can go back to town to-morrow, and start right in on the 
 blissful contentment of married life, and there will be no 
 more waiting, no more fuss and fuming, no more wearisome 
 dressmaking, no sending of invitations, and such trouble- 
 some and worrying preliminaries. Of course our friends 
 who want a big wedding will be disappointed, and will call 
 our conduct queer and eccentric ; but then we are not 
 getting married to please our friends. My, but won't they 
 be surprised ! Yes, John, dear, let us be married here to-
 
 248 STUBS OF TIME. 
 
 night let's hurry, and be married quickly. We must do 
 it. It will be something out of the usual run of things, 
 too, a savor of the eccentrically romantic about it, which 
 I like. I like to do startling, original things which surprise 
 people. I am so tired of conventionalities. Thanks to my 
 independent spirit and my bank account, I can be myself, 
 a crank if you like with impunity. People with wealth 
 and genius can afford to do queer things ; they are not 
 handicapped by the fear of infringing all of society's little 
 laws and regulations. O, I am perfectly carried away with 
 the idea! What do you say, John, dear? " 
 
 As soon as Ardslye had grasped the drift and meaning 
 of her words, he had been deliberating upon the advisability 
 of the step which she counseled, and he had come to the 
 conclusion that it was best for him that the marriage come 
 off as soon as possible. Since he had become society's fad, 
 being at its beck and call, and particularly since he had 
 become Mrs. Van Bergen's hobby, his business had suffered, 
 and were he thrown upon his own resources, pecuniary 
 difficulties would be staring him in the face in short time. 
 
 "There's many a slip between the cup and the lip," 
 he meditated, repeating to himself an old saw he had often 
 heard his father use ; ' ' and the sooner I am married to 
 Maud, and the nail of my good fortune is hammered home 
 and firmly clinched, the better. It's a fortuitous circum- 
 stance which has brought us here, and has put her into 
 this way of thinking." 
 
 "A capital idea, Maud, a glorious idea," he then 
 replied. " Do you suppose that I could have any objec- 
 tion to the immediate consummation of our happiness ? It
 
 AFTER ALL. 249 
 
 cannot be too soon for me. We men, you know, always 
 prefer a quiet wedding, and I was willing to have the big 
 affair only because I thought you wanted it, darling. I am 
 glad to see that you have a man's ideas regarding it, and 
 prefer to have what should be the greatest and most hallowed 
 event of our lives, modest, quiet, and unpretentious. A 
 quiet wedding, I think, is very often a sign of true love be- 
 tween the chief participants. Love is modest and retiring, 
 and it shrinks from pageantry and ostentation. It finds its 
 most perfect life and development in seclusion and quietude, 
 and not amid the brazen blare of the multitude. The big wed- 
 ding is of ten indicative of other motives than those of the heart. 
 Its march may be that of flaunting ostentation and haughty, 
 triumphant pride, and you will seldom see Cupid in the rear 
 guard. Have you never noticed, Maud, how persons of 
 your sex, particularly those who have had a narrow escape 
 from spinsterhood, love a grand wedding? Have you never 
 noticed the expression of supreme, exultant triumph on an 
 old maid's face, as with much pomp and ceremony she 
 marches to the bridal altar, proudly flaunting her matrimonial 
 victory in the jealous eyes of her female friends still pining 
 in the realm of unafflanced maidenhood? 
 
 " Yes, love, you can please me no better than to be mar- 
 ried at once, and quietly. I believe that a wedding should 
 be an occasion of joy ; but let the ceremony itself be one of 
 unobtrusive joy. 
 
 " Yet, though we have come to this happy solution, and 
 our tastes and ideas are in such perfect harmony and agree- 
 ment, there is still a practical consideration to be looked at 
 there is a little thing which may merely for the sake of
 
 250 STUBS OF TIME. 
 
 the proverb prove a stone in the smooth course of our true 
 love. How about the license, dear? we want a valid, 
 unquestionable marriage." 
 
 " That's so ; I hadn't thought of that. Love will find out 
 the way. We will see our host, the justice: he may be 
 able to arrange that. Are you ready to go out? That's a 
 big bruise on your forehead, John, and I have an ugly 
 scratch on my cheek. Bad for the honeymoon, isn't it? " 
 
 VIII. 
 
 " Justice Barley, we wish to speak privately with you for 
 a moment," said Mrs. Van Bergen, as she and John re- 
 entered the sitting room where the crowd laughed and 
 chatted around the fire, a few making attempts to decorate 
 the room for the bridal. Mrs. Van Bergen took the ener- 
 getic initiative in engineering their course, while her fiancee 
 followed passively in her wake. 
 
 " Cert'inly, ma'am, what kin I do for you? " said Justice 
 Barley, bowing with an awkward attempt at chivalry, 
 " what kin I do for your comfit and happiness? Jus' step 
 right in my office and place of business here, where I 'min- 
 isters my jedgements and 'tends to all my official duties." 
 
 He led them into a small, box-like compartment at the 
 other end of the passage-way. There were three or four 
 rough chairs in the room, and a plain unvarnished table. 
 On the wall hung two cheap prints, one a likeness of George 
 Washington, the other that of Henry W. Beecher. On the 
 table there was a big box turned over on its side, and pigeon- 
 holed for the storage of papers. Judging from the label on
 
 AFTER ALL. 251 
 
 its side, this piece of furniture had originally been designed 
 for the packing of groceries, but it upheld with commend- 
 able dignity its new role of receptacle for legal documents. 
 There were also on the table goosequill pens, a " Justice's 
 Guide," some bundles of paper tied with pink tape and 
 strips of red llannel, and a bottle of ink, or what appeared 
 to be ink, the fluid itself being in a vial labeled " cough 
 mixture and colic cure." 
 
 " Jus' hev seats," said the host, as he ushered them in, 
 and, with an air of punctilious importance, closed the door 
 behind them. "You see this here's my hall of jestice: 
 Gineral Washington up there stands for liberty; Mr. 
 Beecher, he stands for gospel ; and I stands for law and 
 ekerty. This here is my wholesale and retail house of 
 jestice. I been ministering law and ekerty in this com- 
 munity for twenty-five years, and I don't mean ter brag er 
 tall, even if twenty-five years in honorable office ought 
 to give a man some privileges to blow his own horn: I 
 don't mean to brag er tall, but I claim, and always has 
 claimed that I kin give a man a better quality of law and 
 jestice for less money than any other judge in the State, 
 high or low. 
 
 " I don't know what kind of business you want me to do 
 for you, but I guess it's sornthin' important, or you 
 wouldn't want to see me in my private office. And I kin 
 see you are both ladies and gentlemen ; and before you be- 
 gin, I want you to understan' the kind of man you dealin' 
 with. We's strangers, and I want you to hev confidence in 
 me from the start. 
 
 " As I was tellin' you, my 'pinions, and my jedgements
 
 252 STUBS OF TIME. 
 
 is strictly first class on all matters whatsomever that comes 
 under my jurisdiction ; and there's mighty few things thet 
 don't come under my jurisdiction : I done built up my 
 jurisdiction till its most as broad as thet of all the courts 
 in the country. I never dismisses no suit for want of 
 jurisdiction. If people come to me for jestice, they's goin' 
 to git jestice, if I hev to stretch a pint or two to give it to 
 'em. It ain't no use sendin' 'em away to another court 
 when they kin git jus' as good jestice right here under their 
 noses. Jestice is jestice, and it's jus' as good comin' from 
 me as 'tis from the Judge of the United States Soopreme 
 Court ; and law is law whether it's spoke from the mouth of 
 a jack-rabbit or a king. 
 
 " And right here I want you to understan' thet I don't 
 claim to know all the book-law in the world. I base my 
 'pinions and verdicts on common sense and my natchul 
 notions of jestice. The Lord made jestice, and put it in 
 people, and people put it in books. Instead of goin' to books, 
 and gettin' it second-hand, I look in my mind, and get jestice 
 right fresh from Providence. I'm a great believer in the 
 principles of primary ekerty ; and I ain't never see the case 
 yet where I couldn't decide accordin' to them principles. 
 It's foolishness to go lookin' in books, and gettin the prin- 
 ciples of primary ekerty mixed up with a lot of dry-rotten, 
 second-hand law where won't apply to the facts of the case. 
 What you ought to try a case by is the principles of primary 
 ekerty, whether it's a civil suit, or criminal persecution. 
 Solomon tried his cases accordin' to them principles, and he 
 was the wisest man that ever lived up to thet time. 
 
 " People in this neighborhood done learn how to appre-
 
 AFTER ALL. 253 
 
 ciate me, and they bring all kinds of cases, grievances, and 
 businesses to me for me to decide and settle accordin' to my 
 principles of primary ekerty. And its seldom they ever 
 kick against my decisions and ruliu's, too, 'cause, as I tell 
 'em, I hev to uphold the majesty of the law, and hev to be 
 mighty strict, and can't take no foolin'. 
 
 " Some time ago there was a young lawyer come out here 
 from the city to try a case we don't hev no lawyers out 
 here 'cause they don't thrive where you got a good judge 
 thet tries cases accordin' to primary principles. Well, this 
 young feller, O, he was a dandy hair parted so plumb in 
 the middle, it must been done with a spirit level, per- 
 fumery smelt like a whole flower garden and speckled 
 red necktie, shoes jus' as shiny and slick as his hair, long- 
 tailed coat, and rings on his fingers, soft white hands, and 
 pink cheeks O, he certinly was pretty. Lots of the wim- 
 min folks came sneakin' round, and peepin' in jus' to get a 
 look at him. 
 
 " He came out here drivin' a spankin' pair of horses 
 hitched to some sort of a fancy rig, and had a driver thet 
 was dressed up most as fine as hisself . 
 
 " The case where he was goin' to try was one involvin' 
 title to some real estate out here containing some very 
 valuable timber. He said his client was one of them cor- 
 poration companies or partnerships bodies thet they hev in 
 cities. I ain't never been to the city, and I don't know 
 much about 'eni ; but I hev heard thet they was bodies of 
 men banded together like a army to commit murders and 
 such crimes thet one man by hisself wouldn't dare to do. 
 If they was to come out here I'd mighty soon break 'em up
 
 254 STUBS OF TIME. 
 
 with my primary principles. However, thet's off the 
 track, as I was sayin', this young man said thet this 
 client of his claimed title to the land, and they wanted to 
 bring suit, and recover it, and hev the timber cut. I knew 
 all about the land, and I knew it had been in the possession 
 of my old friend Joe Baker ever since this part of the 
 country was settled. Joe cut down the first tree, and built 
 the first fire thet was ever built on it to my knowledge, and 
 I knew no lying corporation company didn't hev no title 
 to it. 
 
 " Well, thet young man drove up to my door, and hol- 
 lered like somebody calling dogs. I went out, and spoke 
 to him very politely, and asked him what he wanted. He 
 said : ' Say, old man, can you tell me the way to the 
 Court House, and clerk's office for the country around 
 here?' I didn't say nothin' I simply pointed with my 
 thumb over my shoulder to my house. ' What! ' he says, 
 ' is that the Court House? ' I says ' yes, thet's the only 
 one I know anything about within twenty-five miles of 
 here.' 
 
 " Then he says, ' Where's the judge and the clerk? ' 
 
 " ' Right here, sir; I'm thet gentleman,' I says. 
 
 "He looked kinder surprised at thet, and his eyes popped 
 as though de didn't know whether to believe me, or to think 
 I was jokin' with him. But twenty-five years on the bench 
 hev give me such an imposin' and dignified air, he soon saw 
 I wan't no man for foolin'. 
 
 " ' I am glad to meet you, Judge,' he said, ' and can 
 you tell me where a man named Joseph Baker lives in this 
 neighborhood? '
 
 AFTER ALL. 255 
 
 " ' Yes, sir, right over there,' says I, pointin' to Joe's 
 house over yonder about half a mile off. 
 
 " ' He owns a good deal of valuable timber land, doesn't 
 he?' 
 
 " ' B'lieve he do,' I answers. 
 
 " ' Well,' he says, ' he's the man I'm after, and I want 
 to investigate his title, and bring suit to upset it.' 
 
 " ' The court is open ' I says. 
 
 " ' I want to try it right away, as soon as possible ; ' he 
 says, ' as I don't want to stay in this miserable country 
 any longer than is absolutely necessary.' 
 
 " ' All right, sir,' I says, ' come on, I'm the officer 
 of jestice, law and ekerty, and here's the Court House. The 
 door of my temple of jestice is always open ; its hinges 
 don't need no greasin'. Get your witnesses, and I'll tell the 
 constable to notify Joe Baker, and let him get his, and we'll 
 proceed with the trial.' 
 
 " ' You must have a very summary way of trying cases 
 out here,' he says. 
 
 " ' Yes,' I answers, ' we don't delay jestice no longer than 
 is necessary. We always like to try cases before the facts 
 and the evidence is cold. Jestice is jestice, but it's better 
 fresh than stale.' 
 
 "'But you don't mean to tell me,' he says, ' that you 
 have the power, the jurisdiction, and the legal authority to 
 try all by yourself a case involving the title to real estate, 
 and in so short a time, and without a jury? Suppose I 
 win the case before you my clients wouldn't get good, 
 indefeasible title? ' 
 
 " ' Well,' I answers, ' my jurisdiction and authority on
 
 256 STUBS OF TIME. 
 
 such points ain't never been disputed. Don't you worry, 
 you try your case, and I promise you it will be conducted 
 accordin' to the principles of primary ekerty ; and if jestice 
 says your client ought to get that property, he's goin' to 
 get it, and tain't nobody goin' to dispute the decree of my 
 court. Get down, sir.' I says, ' and come in. I'll hev 
 your horses fed, and it's 'bout time we was takin' a bite 
 ourselves.' 
 
 " So the young feller and his driver stepped out, and went 
 to the hind' part of the buggy, and got out a whole bag 
 full of law books he had done brought with him ; never saw 
 so many in my life didn't know there was thet many in 
 the world . 
 
 " ' Has you got any work there on the primary principles 
 of ekerty ? ' I asked him. 
 
 " ' No,' he said, ' I never heard of that work before.' 
 
 " ' Ain't you? ' I says, ' well, I don't know as it's been 
 published yet, but you'll hear of it some day. You ain't 
 got no book there on natchul jestice neither? ' 
 
 " ' No,' he says, ' I hevn't thet neither the books I 
 brought are mostly works on real estate.' 
 
 " ' Well,' I answers, 'I don't guess it's in the gineral 
 libraries yet, but I hev it in my private library, and it's a 
 great work : it's got a lot about real estate in it, too, and it 
 always has great weight with me in deciding cases.' " 
 
 XIX. 
 
 " We went in then and had some dinner," the Justice con- 
 tinued, " aud after that I went out in the porch, and blew
 
 AFTER ALL. 257 
 
 my horn for Jack Timkens, the constable. Jack lives over 
 on the hill 'bout quarter mile away, convenient to the Court 
 House. He and I is the pillars of jestice for this com- 
 munity. Jack is a great big feller, as strong as a bull, and 
 ain't af card of nothin' not even the devil hisself, and I 
 got him 'pointed constable for those reasons. You see, I'm 
 the law-makin', and judicial branch of the local govern- 
 ment, and Jack he is the executive. He stands for the 
 physical strength and force of the law, as I stand lor 
 the mind, the wisdom and jestice. It's mighty seldom 
 I has to call on Jack to exercise the slumberin' power and 
 majesty of the law, but when I do, I tell you, he ain't long 
 in upholdin' the dignity of the court, and enforcin' its law 
 and orders. There's always some people, you know, who 
 won't or can't recognize the primary principles of ekerty 
 and natchul jestice, and when I run across thet class, I has 
 to call in Jack to assert the court's perogatives. Some peo- 
 ple don't pay no 'tention to head-law like I dispenses, so I 
 has to call on Jack to 'minister arm-law to 'em. My head- 
 law is sufficient for most people, but some few ain't never 
 satisfied till Jack expounds his body-law to 'em ; then they 
 gets satisfied mighty quick. For I tell .you, Jack knows a heap 
 of good law : his law ain't as deep and wise as mine, but it's 
 more practical : mine's mostly theoretical. Jack ain't got 
 much law in his head, but he's got a plenty in his arms, legs, 
 and back, and it's mighty good, convincin' law. When I 
 renders my decree, and Jack he executes it, there is giuerally 
 nothin' more to be said in the case. 
 
 " But as I was telling you, after dinner I went out, as I 
 always does when a case is institooted, and blew my born 
 
 17
 
 258 STUBS OF TIME. 
 
 for Jack. In a little while Jack come over, and I told him 
 of the young feller where was come to recover Joe Baker's 
 land, and sent him over to bring Joe and such witnesses 
 as waii't in hearin' distance of the horn. For when I blows 
 the horn, all the neighbors that hears it come a-runnin' to 
 the Court House, as they know a case is on. 
 
 " Well, twan't long before the crowd had come, and Joe 
 was ready with his testimony. He looked mighty surprised 
 and skeered, too, and his eyes was most poppin' out his head ; 
 and he told me on one side thet the institooting of the suit 
 was a great surprise to him, as he hadn't heard it was goin' 
 to be brought, and wasn't prepared to set up his title, though 
 he couldn't see what grounds the other side claimed it on. 
 I told him not to worry, and keep cool till he had done heard 
 the evidence, and seen what sort a case they could make out 
 against him. 
 
 " When they was all ready I rapped for order, and told 
 Jack Timkins to open court. That bein' done, I told the 
 plaintiff to open up his case, and introduce his evidence ; 
 that the court was in session, and was ready to 'minister 
 jestice to all parties. 
 
 "Then thet young dude got up, and begun to open his 
 books, and took out a roll of maps and papers, and said 
 thet he had a land patent, or government grant, or some 
 such thing, givin' his client, thet corporation company, such 
 and so many acres of land, for value received, thirty years 
 ago, in such and such a county and State, such said land, 
 aforesaid bein' covered with such and so many valuable to- 
 wit feet of timber, and now bein' in possession of, and 
 occupied by a certain person bein' and known, and com-
 
 AFTER ALL. 259 
 
 monly called as one certain to-wit Joseph Baker ; where- 
 fore he brings his action of ejectment and so forth, and 
 shows his aforesaid maps and papers to the Court as evi- 
 dence in the case. 
 
 " When he got through, I asked him if thet was all ; and 
 he said yes, thet was all for the present. 
 
 " Then Joe Baker took the stand, and told me his side of 
 the case: how he'd had the land for twenty-five year, 
 and had been the first settler on it, and had cleared it off 
 with his own hands : how he'd raised his family on it, 
 buried his wife and two or three childrun on it, and how he 
 hoped to be buried on it hisself when he died. 
 
 " When he got through, the young dudie started to cross 
 examine him, and he asked him such personal and iusultin' 
 questions throwin' all kinds of 'sinuations on Joe's char- 
 acter, thet I called him down, and told him he had to con- 
 duct hisself in a more respectful manner to the witnesses 
 in a court of jestice. Then the pretty little feller got hot 
 yes indeed ! his face turned red as a termato, and he 
 jumped up and went off like a firecracker. He hit his fist 
 on the table, and I do believe he even shook it at the Court 
 of jestice : he said the Court was biassed and predjudiced, 
 and it didn't hev authority and jurisdiction to try the case 
 nohow ; and thet it wasn't a fit court to try a case of dog 
 stealin' anyway ; thet the law was all on his side, and thet 
 he was goin' to some higher court where law would be 
 recognized and respected, and he could get jestice. 
 
 " He went on in thet strain till he was most out of breath, 
 and had to sit down. Then, I asked him if he was 
 through. ' Yes,' he said, usin' some cityfied cuss word,
 
 260 STUBS OF TIME. 
 
 ' yes, and I'm going straight back to town now, but I will 
 be out here again in a short time to see you through.' He 
 called his driver then, got up, and started to go out. 
 
 " ' Hold on a minute,' I said, 'jestice ain't been minis- 
 tered yet, and the case ain't dismissed. I think it's too 
 late for you two to take thet long journey back to the city 
 this evening, and I think you had better spend the night 
 with us. Mr. Constable, you'll take thet young man, and 
 lock him up in my corn crib for contempt of a court of 
 gineral jestice. And I hereby dismisses this case, and give 
 jedgment in favor of the defendant accordin' to the primary 
 principles of ekerty and natchul jestice.' ' 
 
 Justice Barley paused for the first time in this long, 
 digressive monologue. He stretched out his feet, and stuck 
 his hands in his trousers pockets, and looked at the two 
 listeners with a shrewd twinkle in his eye, as though he 
 expected from them some expression of approval. He was 
 not disappointed. 
 
 " Good for you, Judge," John said: "and you locked 
 him up in the corn crib, did you? And what did he do? " 
 
 4 ' Do ! what could he do ? Jack caught him up in his 
 arms like he was a little baby, and carried him out there, and 
 chucked him in head foremost, and locked the door and left 
 him. Goodness' sake! you never heard such a stream 
 of ginteel, edgycated, cityfied cussin' in your life ; and he 
 kicked and squirmed like a fishing worm, but Jack laughed 
 at him. We stood the cussin' for a little while to give him 
 a chance to cool off. But he kept it up, and it got so vile, 
 thet the Court went out there, and told him thet he would 
 get an extry hour in there for every oath ; and after a
 
 AFTER ALL. 261 
 
 little while he commenced to sober up and simmer down. 
 My wife, with a woman's curiosity, would listen at him, and 
 I didn't want her to hear all that dirty cussin' and carryin' 
 on, and if he hadn't stopped when I told him thet, the 
 Court was goin' to order the constable to gag him. 
 
 " We let him stay in there all night, and he kicked on the 
 door, and tried to get out, but twan't no use. It's mighty 
 seldom we ever hev any use for a jail here, but I built my 
 corn-house strong so 'twould be ready in case of a 'mergency. 
 
 " In the mornin' the little feller was jus' as perlite as a 
 dancin' master: he looked real pitiful, and his eyes looked 
 kinder draggly, like he had been doin' the wimmen's and 
 baby act. I asked him how he was feelin', and how he had 
 spent the night, and he said, ' miserable, miserable,' 
 that the big rats had been after him all night, and he hadn't 
 had a wink of sleep. 
 
 " I asked him if he wasn't satisfied with the decree of the 
 Court, and if he didn't think the decision was accordin' to 
 the primary principles of ekerty. And he said ' yes,' thet 
 he was more than satisfied, and those was great principles. 
 Then he begged so hard, and talked so humble, thet I let 
 him out, and my wife, who is very tender-hearted, and felt 
 sorry for him, gave him a good breakfast ; and he and his 
 driver went on back where they came from, and we ain't 
 never see or hear from 'em since, and I don't guess we ever 
 will." 
 
 " He never took an appeal, or tried to take the case to a 
 higher court, did he? " John asked. 
 
 " Not to my knowledge ain't never heard of it. 'Spose 
 the young feller satisfied hisself thet night in the corn-crib
 
 262 STUBS OF TIME. 
 
 thet Joe Baker had a good title, and that my court was the 
 top notch of jestice in this community. Jack Timkins, and 
 my corn-crib and big rats is valuable adjuncts in the 
 enforcing of gineral jestice. 
 
 " Well," Justice Barley continued, " I done talkandtalk, 
 and told you what sort of man you is dealin' with now, till I 
 guess you air tired 'specially after the shock you expe- 
 rienced this evening. And now what's your business, and 
 what can 1 do for you ? ' ' 
 
 " Well, Judge," Mrs. Van Bergen said, " we want to get 
 married Mr. John Ardslye and myself: we want you to 
 marry us if you can." 
 
 " Umph," grunted the justice, " want to get mar- 
 'ied! eh? umph I might hev knowed it. I thought 
 'twas mighty strange you two young people of opposite and 
 entirely different sexes, and no blood kin, or legal affinity, 
 come a-drivin* for twenty-five miles by yourselves , and let 
 the horses run away. Mighty curious tale, I thought all 
 the time : I thought there was somethin' up your sleeves 
 where you hadn't let out; but I didn't say nothin' as 'twas 
 none of my business. Want me to marry you if I can?- 
 of course I can ; and tain't a better marrier in the country 
 than I is. I can put up the finest job of matrimony you ever 
 see, and nobody ain't never dissatisfied with my marryin'. 
 I marry, and unmarry couples any time, and always give 
 satisfaction. 
 
 " Some folks think it's better to be married by a preacher, 
 but the ministers in these parts is so disrep' table and 
 deserpated, thet decent people prefers to be married by a 
 jestice. They'd ruther be married by the officer of the law
 
 AFTER ALL. 263 
 
 than by the officer of the gospel. The preachers, they 
 adulterate the gospel with corruption, and the lawyers, they 
 adulterate the law ; but round here the preachers is worse 
 adulterators than the lawyers is, and they done got the gospel 
 in such a fix it ain't fit to be married by. 
 
 " 'Twas a preacher over here some time ago where 
 married a couple while he was under the influence of strong 
 drink, and he done it so funny, and made such a bunglin' 
 job thet the couple didn't know whether they was married 
 or not, and they was thereby placed in a very embarrassing 
 situation. And they ain't certain about the correctness of 
 the marryin' to this day, neither, although they's had a 
 dozen or more children. The lady always said she didn't 
 feel satisfied, and was goin' to get me to marry her over 
 again in the right fashion. But she kept puttin' it off, and 
 puttin' it off, till now I doubt if she is ever married right. 
 People can't be too keerful in the way they is married ; 
 they ought to get it done right. If the horses ain't hitched 
 together right there's goin' to be friction, and kickin', and 
 trouble all along the road. Oxes don't pull together nice 
 'less the yoke is put on right. 
 
 " I ginerally charge five dollars for marryin' ; while thet 
 may not be as cheap as some preachers and magistrates do 
 it for, yet it's better to pay a little more, and know you got 
 the thing done right. It don't pay to hev things done 
 too cheap ; what you save in money you lose in quality. 
 No fifty cent marriage would do for me. I wouldn't feel 
 like I was married good if I had been spliced by one of 
 these jack-leg, cheap marryers. Then I couldn't afford to 
 do it no cheaper ; it's a great responsibility marryin' people,
 
 264 STUBS OF TIME. 
 
 and five dollars is as low as I could undertake it for. I 
 'spose you heard of my reputation as a good raarryer, 
 reason you come out here? " 
 
 " No," John answered, replying to the interrogative 
 intonation of Barley's last sentence, " we had not intended 
 to be married so soon ; but after getting here and finding 
 out what sort of a man you are, we think it too good an 
 opportunity to miss, and we want you to settle the matter 
 at once. But how about the license can you give us the 
 license, and will it be good and lawful everywhere we go? " 
 
 " Can I give you a license? " Barley repeated in a tone 
 which smacked of irritated injury, "of course I can give 
 you one. This other young couple thet's goin' to be mar- 
 ried here to-night is goin' to be married under my license. 
 Yes, indeed, you needn't be uneasy about the validitj^ of 
 my license : by virtue of my office I performs all the dooties 
 and details pertaining to marriage, divorce, and separation. 
 And I'll tell you right now that if you ever want a divorce- 
 ment, there ain't nobody can untie my knots as quick and 
 easy as myself, if they can untie them at all." 
 
 X. 
 
 Having been married, John and his wife, next day re- 
 turned to the city, and took up their residence at Maud's 
 magnificent home. People wondered at the eccentric fea- 
 tures of the sudden marriage, but John and his bride cared 
 not a snap for that. For some weeks there was a whirl of 
 gaiety balls, receptions, operas, entertainments of all 
 kinds. Maud was in the quotidian of her love ; it raged
 
 AFTER ALL. 265 
 
 fiercely for a time reached its white heat, and then began 
 to grow cool. With the characteristic vacillation of her 
 nature, the ardor for her new hobby of love soon commenced 
 to wane. The giddy infatuation of a frivolous and senti- 
 mental nature began to burn out, and Maud Ardslye found 
 herself a soberer, if not more sane woman. It was not 
 long before she found herself conjecturing if a surfeit of 
 love were not a possibility. 
 
 After that it was but a little while before she consciously 
 admitted to herself that she had taken a too hasty step in 
 marrying John Ardslye ; that he had been but an impecunious 
 nonentity whom she had espoused, and brought into promi- 
 nence ; handsome, and clever, it is true, but then there 
 were hundreds of other men of more social distinction who 
 were that. She recognized the fact that she had loved to 
 satiety. 
 
 From love surfeited to repulsion and hate is but a step, 
 and in a short time Maud actually loathed her husband. 
 Nor did she take pains to conceal her feelings from him. 
 She was not the woman to do that. With all her violent 
 vagaries of fancy she was usually outspoken. Accustomed 
 to dogmatic ruling, she seldom had heed of, and had never 
 acquired the habitual wiles of hypocrisy. All through life 
 her impetuous will and her wealth, with cyclonic force and 
 suddenness had swept obstacles out of her path. With 
 unmistakable words and actions she soon apprised John of 
 the fact that she had had enough of him. 
 
 " You married me for my wealth, and the consequent 
 social position and prominence which would redound to 
 you," she was telling him in one of those little boudoir
 
 266 STUBS OF TIME. 
 
 battle of words in which she and her husband now fre- 
 quently engaged: "you never really loved me, and never 
 will. The only arrows that ever entered your heart were 
 ones tipped with gold, and winged with bank notes. I 
 should have married a man of wealth and social position 
 equal to my own, when I would have little cause to doubt 
 the sincerity of his attachment. Men are unsentimental, 
 practical, calculating creatures, anyway, and if there is the 
 slightest odds against them I will never believe in the reality 
 of their love. I was a goose for falling so desperately in love 
 with you, that I could not see that cupidity, and not Cupid 
 was the inspiration of your devotion. Here I am tied to a 
 cold-blooded serpent of avarice, and a nobody at that. 
 You sold your scheming attractiveness, and your good looks 
 in the market of woman's affections, and you've gotten, you 
 think, a good price. While here I am, poor woman ! mar- 
 ried to a man who does not love me, a man who through his 
 evil machinations easily took advantage of my confiding and 
 enjotional sex, and duped me into marrying him : a man, 
 who, cloaking his real motives under the innocent garb of 
 love, took advantage of my tender woman's passions, and 
 utilized them as a passport to my safe deposit vaults. Oh, 
 what a fool I've been ! I loathe a hypocrite : I detest a man 
 who will debase the sacred passions, and make them his 
 vehicle to commercial success." 
 
 John had reached that stage now where he ceased to reply 
 save in very few words to these attacks. He took them 
 stoically as he could, making neither defense nor counter- 
 attack. When the tide first commenced to turn, and he had 
 noticed her incipient coldness, and when she began to show
 
 AFTER ALL. 267 
 
 indifference, and then to make little insinuations and incisive 
 remarks with all the unexpressed meaning a woman can 
 throw into such things ; then he had tried to stop the 
 ebbing he had shown himself the warmest of lovers, and 
 had tried to win her confidence and prove his love. Again, 
 when at the next stage, she had come out and accused him 
 openly of not loving her, he had denied it, making such 
 adjustments of his conscience and the truth as he could. 
 
 But now as things grew from bad to worse, and as all his 
 efforts to ameliorate conditions had proved fruitless, he 
 strove to harden himself, to bear it philosophically if he 
 could, stoically if he must, leaving results in the hands of 
 fate. Hence he took his wife's vitriolic remarks in silence. 
 He could love no woman who spoke to him thus, even had 
 he ever done so. Not even a pretense of affection was 
 possible. John had noble elements in him after all, and 
 beyond a certain point his nature rebelled against dissimu- 
 lation, even though it were expedient. 
 
 Immediately after marrying Maud Van Bergen, John had 
 congratulated and endeavored to persuade himself that he 
 was, and had every cause to be, the happiest man alive. 
 Success more brilliant than he had ever hoped for seemed 
 to have come to him. What more wa'S there for him to do 
 but to enjoy life? Wealth, and fame, too, in a measure, he 
 had. What was left to work for? Why should not his life 
 henceforth be one delightful pastime? 
 
 John, with the buoyant heart of youth, had not recked of
 
 268 STUBS OF TIME. 
 
 all the factors going to make up human existence. He 
 became very unhappy when Maud lost her infatuation for 
 him, and began to do all she could to make his life miser- 
 able. In public, as long as he was her husband, she had to 
 maintain him in the respect and dignity clue that relation ; 
 but in private he was unprotected, and she then applied 
 unmercifully to him every lash and sting her character and 
 position gave her command of . 
 
 Thus it went on, and the years rolled heavily by, ever 
 increasing John's unhappiuess. He seldom saw his wife 
 now ; he and she had separate apartments, and there was 
 very little communication of any kind between them. 
 
 John had resumed his business, as he found it necessary 
 to make even his pin money ; but it was in a half-hearted 
 way, which brought him little success. His marriage with 
 Mrs. Van Bergen, and his subsequent period of idleness 
 and ease had ruined his prospects as a man of active work 
 and business. People had come to look upon him as the 
 good-for-nothing husband of Mrs. Ardslye. 
 
 Often when alone in these days of unhappiness, his 
 thoughts would go back through the years, and he would 
 think of Laura of the days they had spent together of 
 their love. He wondered what had become of her where 
 she was what sort of a life she lived. He wondered if 
 she ever thought of him now ; if she loved him still ; if his 
 child lived. And then a great lump would seem to rise in 
 his throat, and, choked with bitter grief, unspeakable long- 
 ing and anguish, he would put his head in his hands, and 
 shed tears. Afterwards he would take from his pocket a 
 card-case, and take therefrom, where he always carried
 
 AFTER ALL. 269 
 
 them, a letter, a faded pressed rose, and a little lock of fair 
 hair. He would hold these, and look at them, and perhaps 
 kiss them, for a while. 
 
 John and Mrs. Van Bergen had not been married for 
 more than a year before the latter had become desperately 
 enamoured of another young man Harold Byrnewood. 
 It was a re-enactment of the love affair with John plus the 
 obstacle, in the latter case, of the sacred bonds of matri- 
 mony, or, more properly, the legal barriers prohibiting 
 bigamous marriages. 
 
 One day while burning with the ardor of this latest love, 
 Mrs. Ardslye had come unexpectedly into her husband's 
 sitting room and found him reading letters which he hastily 
 slipped into his desk upon seeing her. She, apparently, did 
 not notice the act, and paid no attention to it then. But 
 that afternoon when John went out for a drive, she went to 
 his apartments, looked for, and found a key which would 
 open his desk, and went through his papers. There she 
 found a bundle of letters written to John long before by 
 Laura. A thought flashed through her mind. " At last 
 1 have evidence !" she exclaimed to herself. She hastily 
 reclosed the desk, and taking the letters with her, went 
 out. 
 
 That night she and young Byrnewood spent hours in 
 secret conference in her drawing room. 
 
 " I find, Harold, dear," she had told him, " that wealth 
 can accomplish almost anything. Of course people will 
 talk and criticise ; but what do we care? A big bank ac- 
 count can laugh at public opinion. I am thankful to say 
 that my independent fortune enables me to do just as I
 
 270 STUBS OF TIME. 
 
 please. Even were it coupled with depravity and folly, 
 wealth will always command respect from the obsequious 
 world. Married or not, I will keep company with you as 
 much as I choose, and little I care what people say. Still, 
 I would prefer the divorce if it is practicable. We will 
 skilfully change their dates, and this evidence backed by 
 my purse, will, I hope, prove sufficient, dear. You will 
 see to it at once." 
 
 In a few days John had been notified that a suit for 
 divorce had been filed against him by his wife. The bill 
 alleged violation of the marriage vow as the ground for 
 divorce. There were witnesses some of Mrs. Ardslye's 
 servants who gave incriminating testimony; and the 
 letters were offered as corroborative evidence of John's 
 illegal relations with some incognito. 
 
 John fervently prayed in his heart that the divorce 
 would be granted. But it was not. The evidence was 
 not strong enough, and the court of its own knowledge 
 well knew that a defense of recrimination could be set up, 
 and that a divorce meant simply a little wider and more 
 notorious opening of the door to licentiousness. 
 
 Thus the attempt to sever the nominal relation of husband 
 and wife which existed between them, had failed, and John 
 was left hopelessly tied to the cause of his woe. 
 
 As the years went by they brought him some recompense 
 for his unhappiness in the way of a stronger character, and 
 a growth and development of the good which was in him. 
 He had time for reflection, and he weighed the elements of 
 life in the balance of knowledge gained through bitter 
 experience. 
 
 Conquered weakness is the best corner-stone on which a
 
 AFTER ALL. 271 
 
 noble character was ever founded. Characters thus founded 
 are the ones of combative, inherent strength. They shape 
 and mold themselves through their own might, and are 
 stronger for every victory. Affliction is the best tutor for 
 the haughty ; and suffering is often the most skilled artisan 
 in shaping a human life in its most perfect and beautiful 
 finish. Year after year, John became a higher and stronger 
 man. 
 
 XII. 
 
 One summer, some nine years after their marriage, Maud 
 went on an extended foreign tour, and left her husband at 
 home. John, weary and heart-sore with the emptiness of 
 his life and magnificent misery, resolved to go hunting, and 
 take an outing in the wild mountains of the West. He 
 would take no one with him he wanted to be alone 
 only a gun and a few other essentials for life in the wilder- 
 ness. He longed for the calm solitude of the mountain 
 fastnesses, the unrestrained freedom of an outdoor life. He 
 wanted to be away from the hackneyed, and confining 
 grooves of conventionality, and in the largeness of nature. 
 His soul seemed parched by the life he had lived, and he 
 thirsted for the fresh air of the forest. He wished to be 
 alone amid the ennobling expanse of nature's solitudes, and 
 to breathe in new life and hope from the pure ozone of the 
 mountains. 
 
 Having decided on this step, he was not long in executing 
 it. One bright morning a short time thereafter, he got off 
 the train at a little station in the heart of the Rocky Moun- 
 tains, and started trudging up a rough, ill-defined road. 
 He had no definite plan of route or direction ; and he 
 wanted none. He only wanted to wander in the most un
 
 272 STUBS OF TIME. 
 
 frequented and sequestered mountain wilds, unhampered 
 by plan or purpose stopping now at a mountain cabin, 
 now camping out, cooking his own victuals, and sleeping 
 beneath the stars. 
 
 The road suited him, for it seemed to lead deeper and 
 deeper into the wild hills, having no definite goal. On he 
 went, gradually ascending till the little depot looked like a 
 small, whitewashed box far below in the valley. It was a 
 beautiful day ; the air balmy and bracing, and heavily 
 scented with the fragrance of wild thyme. Whichever way 
 the eye turned, there were the great blue ranges piled up, 
 and stretching away in infinite distance till they vanished in 
 gold and purple haze. A hawk, sailing on rigid pinions, 
 screamed its exultant paean high over his head. A flock 
 of crows, cawing raucously, flew from the big oaks over- 
 hanging the road, and sought shelter in the thick cedars 
 higher on the mountain. John drew in great breaths of the 
 fresh air, and felt his spirits rise as he gazed about on the 
 scene of untamed grandeur and beauty. 
 
 There is a sublimity about the mountains and the sea 
 an awe, an impressiveness. The majesty of their vast 
 magnitudes, their silent testimony of power, force and 
 eternity, thrills the beholder with a solemn enthusiasm of 
 worship and admiration. 
 
 Night came on, and the traveler turned his steps toward 
 a column of smoke he saw rising from a little nook in the 
 side of the mountains. He had tramped twenty miles 
 since morning. His noon meal had been eaten at a way- 
 side house far down the road ; and he was now weary and 
 hungry, and glad to find some human habitation, however
 
 AFTER ALL. 273 
 
 humble, in which he could find food and shelter, without the 
 trouble of preparing these things for himself. 
 
 It was an old mountaineer's cabin which he had reached, 
 small, low- roofed, and moss-grown, but having a certain air 
 of comfort and cleanliness. Nearly covering its front 
 there were skins of wild animals tacked up to dry. Some 
 long-handled gourds, and some strings of red pepper hung 
 from wooden pegs driven in the side joists of the door. To 
 one side there was a neat little kitchen-garden and some bee 
 hives ; on the other were some rude shanties which appar- 
 ently had been constructed as quarters for the goats and 
 poultry that were feeding near. 
 
 A small fice ran out and barked with vehement indignance 
 as the stranger approached the dwelling. Then the door 
 opened, and the lord of the premises appeared, followed by 
 his wife, an old crone clad in homespun, who stood in the 
 door looking over his shoulder. They both looked surprised, 
 and a trifle uneasy at the advent of a stranger. The man 
 had long gray hair and beard. He wore a tattered shirt of 
 blue jeans, corduroy trousers, tucked into high boots, and a 
 ragged felt hat, which he placed on his head as he emerged 
 from the door. 
 
 " Who you be, and what's yo' bus'ness, and where you 
 come from? " he asked, having returned John's greeting. 
 
 In brief words John explained his mission in the moun- 
 tains, and the reason of his unexpected coming to their 
 home. 
 
 "Come in, come in," the old fellow then said, "my 
 name's Bill Burgess; Betsy kin take keerof you, I reg- 
 gin. I don't know how goat's milk and cornbread and pos- 
 
 18
 
 274 STUBS OF TIME. 
 
 sum pie will set on your city stumick, but you kin try it ; 
 and we got one spare room you kin take. Tain't nobody 
 here but me and Betsy, now. We got a married daughter 
 livin' East ; and we had a son, but he got killed in the war. 
 We hardly ever see anybody 'cept Johnnie, and his Ma, and 
 the old couple they lives with. Johnnie, he comes over here 
 'most every day, and is heap of company for us. We's jus' 
 as fond of him as if he were our own chile. Betsy, she makes 
 him pies, and I makes him chink'pin whistles, and bird traps, 
 and such things. He's a mighty fine boy, Johnny is." 
 
 " And who's Johnnie? " John inquired, wishing to know 
 more of the subject of this eulogy. 
 
 " Johnnie ! " the old man exclaimed, as though he thought 
 it strange that any one should not know who Johnnie was, 
 " why, he's the chap that come here some years ago with 
 his mother: he was a baby then, and his mother wanted to 
 live with us. She was a widow lady had jus' lost her hus- 
 band and property and everything she had in the world ; and 
 she wanted a quiet home among decent folks, where she 
 could live, and pay for herself and child by doing such work 
 as a strong young 'oman kin do. We couldn't take her in, as 
 our daughter was livin' with us then that bein' before she 
 was married although we'd liked to have done it: she 
 was such a quiet, peaceable, ginteel-lookin' young 'oman> 
 and with such a soft gentle voice and manners. Pretty, too, 
 as a picture. I was in favor of riggin' up some sort of a 
 shanty for her anyway, and lettin' her stay with us ; but 
 Betsy, she seein' how I was lookin' at her, and how pretty 
 she was, got a little kinder jealous, I think, and thought 
 twouldn't be altogether safe to have her 'bout the place, 
 even if I is old. So she referred her to the old couple in
 
 AFTER ALL. 275 
 
 the valley right down there 'bout three quarters of a mile 
 away. This old couple was livin' there by themselves a 
 good old pair as ever lived, and without a chick or child in 
 the world. They got a mighty nice little cottage and gar- 
 den, and two cows, and some sheeps, and fowls. Course 
 all these things 'quires considerable 'tention, and as the old 
 people wasn't as active as they used to be, and couldn't 
 turn about as quick, Betsy told this young 'omaii that she 
 thought they would be glad to take her in. 
 
 "So we let her spend the night with us, although Betsy was 
 mighty jealous, and watched me close as she could. And 
 the next moruin' I took the 'oman down to Jake Huggin's, 
 and introduced her to 'em, and told 'em the situation. He 
 and his wife was very much tickled at the idea, 'specially 
 when they see what a nice young 'oraan she 'peared to be ; 
 and they told her that she was welcome to make her home 
 there. 
 
 " And there she put up, and there's she been ever since ; 
 and a great blessing she's been to that old couple, too. 
 She takes the management of everything there now, and 
 they's got the neatest little place you'll find anywhere in 
 these mountains. It's a pretty valley they live in mighty 
 small, but then it seems they got everything 'round 'em to 
 make 'em content and peaceful. 
 
 " Johnnie that Johnnie I was tellin' you 'bout is that 
 widow lady's son. He some nine or ten years old now, and 
 as I was ii-tellm' you, tain't a finer chap livin.' He jus' 
 the life of our two families ; for we's the only people that 
 live in ten miles of here, and we don't know what we'd do 
 without that boy. He's smart as a steel trap, too, kin 
 hunt, fish, trap, and do most anything. If you want any-
 
 276 STUBS OF TIME. 
 
 body to show you where the trout bites best, or where game 
 is most likely to be found, you ought to call on him. He 
 knows every deer path, and rabbit track, and fox den for 
 miles round here." 
 
 They had taken seats before the fire in the dining, sit- 
 ting, and living room of the small house, and the moun- 
 taineer paused to take up a firebrand to light his pipe. 
 
 "Yes," John said, " if I remain in this neighborhood 
 for any length of time as I expect to do I shall be 
 glad to have the services of Johnnie as guide and instructor 
 in woodcraft ; for I am virtually a novice in regard to 
 mountain life and methods." 
 
 Meanwhile, the frugal supper had been laid by the old, 
 but bustling Mrs. Burgess ; and they took their seats at the 
 table. 
 
 Having finished the meal, the two men drew their chairs 
 to the fire again, and John, taking some cigars from his 
 pocket, offered the old man one. 
 
 " Thankee, no," Mr. Burgess said, " I never smoke any 
 of those new-fangled things. I can't go back on old 
 friends for new. This old pipe and me has been chums for 
 years ; and I always has my own little terbacco patch, and 
 never smokes any other." 
 
 They sat by the fire till a late hour, the old mountain- 
 eer entertaining his companion with tales crudely, but 
 graphically told. He told of his war-time experiences ; of 
 Ms mountain hunting trips ; tales of local folklore, and 
 neighborhood legends and traditions. 
 
 John found him a man of interesting personality rough 
 and unpolished, it is true, but original, and gifted with a 
 talent for wild and picturesque narrative. So pleased was
 
 "V, 
 
 : ' 
 
 "WITH SPINNING WHEEL BY HER SIDE."
 
 AFTER ALL. 277 
 
 Ardslye with his host, that before they retired for the night, 
 he decided to accept the invitation Mr. Burgess extended 
 him, to make his house the headquarters of the mountain 
 sojourn. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 Next morning, having finished breakfast, John with rod 
 and gun and lunch, started off to take an all-day tramp, 
 wishing to explore the surrounding country, and see what 
 its possibilities were as a field for game and sport. He took 
 a tiny path which wound down the mountain side for some 
 hundred yards and then vanished in a thick growth of 
 beech and chestnut. As he drew near the woods, a rabbit 
 sprang up near the path, and with its white tail much in evi- 
 dence, bounced and scampered towards the covert of the for- 
 est. John let drive with both barrels, and made a clean miss 
 of it. He was reloading, when he heard the clatter of bare 
 feet running rapidly around the turn in the path, and a 
 childish voice rang out: " Did you get him, Uncle Tim? " 
 
 " No, I didn't get him," said John, smiling as a young 
 boy rounded the bend, and after nearly running into him, 
 came to an abrupt standstill on seeing a stranger. " And 
 I'm not Uncle Tim," John continued, " I'm Mr. Ards- 
 lye, and you, I suppose, are Johnnie. Poor shooting, 
 wasn't it?" 
 
 The boy stood looking at him with mild-eyed surprise. 
 He was a handsome, manly looking lad with big thoughtful 
 blue eyes, fair, closely cropped hair, and a ruddy com- 
 plexion. He wore a big straw hat, and was plainly, but 
 neatly dressed in shirt and trousers of some stout summer- 
 weight goods. 
 
 They stood staring at each other for some time, John
 
 278 STUBS OF TIME. 
 
 smiling good-naturedly, while the boy seemed to be scrutin- 
 izing his every feature. Presently he smiled too. " What 
 was it? " he inquired, " a rabbit? " 
 
 " Yes, a rabbit," John answered, "and I missed him 
 clear as whistle : can't you go along with me, and show me 
 how to shoot? I spent the night with Mr. Burgess, or Uncle 
 Tim, as you call him, and he told me of you, and said I ought 
 to get you to go outing with me to show me the best trout 
 holes, and places for game. I'm lucky to have met you. 
 Can't you go with me? " 
 
 " Yes, I reckon so, but I'll have to go back, and ask 
 Mamma. She doesn't know you, and we see so few 
 strangers here, that she tells me to be careful how I have 
 anything to do with them when I do meet 'em. She says 
 the world is just full of bad people, and we ought not to 
 make friends with anybody too soon. You come on, go back 
 with me it's just a little ways and let Mamma see you. 
 You look like a nice, good man, and I think she will let me 
 go with you. 
 
 " Don't anybody but Uncle Tim and I ever shoot around 
 here, and, of course, when I heard your gun, I thought 'twas 
 he." 
 
 "All right," John said, " I'll go back with you, and ask 
 your mamma if you can go with me." 
 
 Guided by the boy John rapidly threaded the forest path, 
 most of which was down hill, and soon emerged into a valley 
 of only a few acres extent, but fair and fertile, and shut in 
 by the great mountains. As they came along John heard an 
 indistinct buzzing or roaring sound, though, because of its 
 indistinctness, and the hurried pace of his companion, he 
 did not ask its origin.
 
 AFTER ALL. 279 
 
 In the middle of the vale was a pretty little vine-covered 
 cottage, neatly white-washed, and with a rustic veranda all 
 overgrown with a profusion of flowering morning glories 
 and trumpet creeper. An old man was hoeing the trim 
 garden, to one side of the house. He was busy at his 
 work, and did not notice the approach of the stranger. 
 
 As they came around to the front of the house they saw a 
 woman sitting on a rustic seat under an apple tree. A 
 spinning wheel, and a large basket piled high with wool, 
 stood by her side. She was carding the wool, and as she 
 finished a lot of it, she would twist it on the spindle, and 
 then give the wheel a turn till it whirred resonantly. This 
 was the noise they had heard. 
 
 Intent on her work, the woman did not see them till they 
 were quite close. Then as the boy called out, " here's 
 Mamma, now," not thinking but that her child was alone, 
 with a fond mother's smile on her face, she raised her head 
 to look at him, and hark to his childish want. 
 
 John had stopped by her, and, as she turned, looked full 
 into her face. It was Laura Lane. 
 
 She knew him at once; and for a moment her face 
 blanched almost as white as the wool which slipped from 
 her hands onto the ground. Then the color came rushing 
 back to her cheeks in a great surge, and tears welled up 
 in her eyes. John's face was set, white, and immovable. 
 Thus they stood looking at each other motionless as 
 though turned to stone ; and neither spoke. 
 
 "O, Mamma, what is the matter? " Johnnie said, break- 
 ing the silence, seeing that something out of the usual had 
 happened. 
 
 " Shall I tell him? " she said.
 
 280 STUBS OF TIME. 
 
 " Yes, tell him," John answered in a broken voice. 
 Then he stooped and caught the lad up in his arms, and 
 kissed him. " My boy," he said, " I am your father." 
 
 " No you are not; my father is dead he died long 
 time ago before I can remember. Didn't he, Mamma? 
 
 "Yes, my boy, but he has been sent back to us by a 
 merciful Providence. Our prayers have been answered, 
 and he is come back to us ; and you must be glad and love 
 him." 
 
 " I thought my father was dead ; I'm glad he isn't." 
 
 " Yes, my son, I am he, and I love you." 
 
 " I believe you are my father: I can just feel you love 
 me just like Mamma does. And won't you stay, and live 
 with us now all the time, and not go 'way, and die any 
 more? I'll show you how to shoot, and we can go hunting 
 together every day, and have such a good time." 
 
 The man said nothing ; but the boy felt himself drawn 
 closer in his father's arms. Then he was put down gently 
 on his feet, and John, holding him by the hand, looked into 
 the beaming, boyish face. 
 
 "It's a wonder I did not know those eyes," he said; 
 " they are yours, Laura. And I remember now when I 
 first laid eyes on the lad something startled me, but I 
 could not place it exactly I didn't know what it was." 
 
 "And you have looked for me," Laura said, "and 
 traced me till you have found me in the wilderness. I 
 thought, perhaps, you might come some day. My love 
 has remained as firm and constant, as strong and enduring 
 as it was on the day we parted. It is that which has 
 brought you ; it is that which is irresistible ; a power 
 working silently, patiently, potently ; it accomplishes its
 
 AFTER ALL. 281 
 
 ends with resistless certainty ; for it works in harmony 
 with the eternal forces. Other things may triumph for a 
 while ; but in the end only that which works in unison with 
 the great, good laws will prevail. You will not leave me 
 any more ; for I believe that your love, too, has remained 
 true, and we will be married married in law and custom 
 as we have been in soul." 
 
 ' ' Yes, my love has has remained true ; but, 
 Laura, it was accident which brought me here simply 
 chance. I am married." 
 
 The words were spoken in a hoarse, unnatural voice, 
 sounding like hollow reverberations from the chambered dark- 
 ness of a sepulchre ; and they were followed by a death-like 
 stillness. Laura bowed her head for an instant, and pressed 
 her hand to her brow. John's expression was that of one 
 in agony, hard and fixed. 
 
 Laura now raised her head and looked full at him. Her 
 face was white, her eyes cold, dry, expressionless. 
 
 "John," she said in a firm voice, " if you are married it 
 were better that you do not stay here. Leave us ; leave me 
 and my boy, and go, or we must flee from you. I did not 
 know you had a wife, or I would not have spoken as I did." 
 
 She got up, and taking her son by the hand, started 
 towards the house. 
 
 John stared at them as one dazed. When they had 
 nearly reached the door, he rushed forward, and catching 
 the boy in his arms, kissed him passionately. He put him 
 down, gave one look at Laura, and walked rapidly away. 
 
 It was with a leaden heart that he retraced his steps to 
 the humble home of Burgess. He could not hunt ; he took 
 interest in nothing ; he could scarcely think.
 
 282 STUBS OF TIME. 
 
 "What's the matter with you?" Burgess said, as the 
 guest sauntered dejectedly back, " come back mighty soon. 
 Got tired already? ain't had no luck? couldn't find no 
 game? sick? or what is it? Tain't snack time yet. Heard 
 your gun ain't shoot yourself, is you? You look sorter 
 white under the gills. Maybe it's our grub ain't settin' easy 
 on your stumick? " 
 
 "No," John said, " nothing's much the matter; but I 
 couldn't find any game except a rabbit, and 1 missed him. 
 I'm feeling a little indisposed, Mr. Burgess, I'm afraid 
 this mountain air doesn't agree with me. Then there's an 
 affair of business that is weighing on my mind, and which 
 I have been thinking of, and which I ought to go back and 
 attend to. So, all things being considered, I have decided 
 that I must go back to-morrow. I have enjoyed and appre- 
 ciated your hospitality, and hope you will accept this note 
 as a token of my regard for you. I suppose Betsy will be 
 willing to trust you to town to get it changed. I hate to go 
 so soon, but it is absolutely necessary." 
 
 " Pshaw! pshaw! " his host exclaimed in a tone of dis- 
 appointment; "I'm mighty sorry mighty sorry. You 
 ought to have had Johnnie to go huntin' with you, and you'd 
 have done better, and wouldn't be so down-hearted, and in 
 such a hurry to get back. You ain't even had a chance to 
 see that boy yet; he's the finest thing we's ever raised in 
 these mountains, and I wanted you to see 'im so as to get a 
 good opinion of somethin' here in the backwoods. I'll go 
 over there after him this evening, and bring him over here 
 just to let you see him. Let him tell you about all the fish 
 and game, and wild varmints that he knows of, and maybe 
 you won't be in such a hurry to go."
 
 AFTER ALL. 283 
 
 " No, no ; please don't," John answered, so solicitously, 
 that Burgess looked at him curiously. 
 
 "Umph!" he ejaculated, "sudden and funny dislike 
 you've took to these mountains ; and you was so pleased at 
 fust. Can't understand it. Reggin this fresh mountain air 
 is stirred up the bile in you, and made you sorter moody. 
 If you jus' stay here a little longer 'twill all settle, and git 
 out you, and you'll feel better than you's done for years. 
 Betsy will make you a tonic out of roots and yarbs that'll 
 make you feel chirpy as a chicken. 
 
 " Or maybe you's taken with a little spell of homesick- 
 ness want to see your wife and chillun ; but you'd get 
 over that blueness in a few days after you cotch onto our way 
 of livin', and we'd let you 'dopt Johnnie as long as you 
 stay." 
 
 Ardslye flinched so perceptibly every time Johnnie was 
 mentioned, that it did not escape the shrewd observance of 
 Burgess. He was in no better position to tell the cause, 
 however, than he was to tell what was going on in the moon ; 
 but perceiving that his talk no longer interested, but rather 
 worried John, he soon left him to pursue, uninterrupted, his 
 own train of thought. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 Next morning, in accordance with his resolution, John 
 started back home. As the train pulled out from the depot he 
 gave a last look towards the mountains towards the valley 
 far up among them, where she lived Laura. And he knew 
 she was thinking of him. He felt as though he was being 
 borne away to his grave ; that he was about to leave all the 
 joy, all the good that life had ever held for him, and was to 
 be shut in oppressive darkness hopeless forever.
 
 284 STUBS OF TIME. 
 
 On getting back to the city he found strange occurrences 
 taking place at his home. A notice of sale was the first 
 thing that greeted him as he entered his gate-way, and on 
 going a little further, he saw that the house was filled with 
 strangers, and the furniture was being removed. He also 
 noticed that people looked, and pointed at him, some nod- 
 ding and winking at each other, while others smiled, and 
 shook their heads knowingly. He felt himself to be the 
 object of vulgar curiosity, and perhaps ridicule, and not 
 knowing, and not having the temerity to inquire the cause, 
 he speedily retired to a place of privacy in the reading-room 
 of a near-by club. While there, a paper having come into 
 his hands, he saw his name and^that of his wife in big heavy 
 type, and ascertained the cause of the puzzling conditions. 
 In a highly sensational article he read that his wife, while 
 abroad, had obtained a divorce, and had been wed to young 
 Byrnewood; that she had sold, and disposed of all her 
 property interests in America ; had bought a handsome 
 villa in Southern Italy, where in the future she and her 
 husband would reside. 
 
 John bowed his head in silent adoration, prayer, and 
 thanksgiving when he had read this startling news. 
 
 " Thank God," he murmured, " I am now left a pauper 
 as the world goes ; but I have enough money in my pocket 
 to take me back to her to take me back to that wealth 
 whose real value 1 now know. I have tasted the bitter 
 fruit early in life, and I now know what things are of real 
 worth, what things give true happiness, what things are of 
 most good most worth striving for." 
 
 That same day found him on the return trip to the 
 mountains. And the afternoon of the next found him
 
 AFTER ALL. 285 
 
 entering the valley where Laura lived. He did not stop at 
 Burgess's house ; he noticed nothing cared for nothing 
 along the way; he only wanted to see her, and he went 
 straight as though impelled by a resistless force. 
 
 John understood himself now : he knew his strength and 
 his weakness ; and he knew that Laura had always known 
 him. His character was balanced now. Once he had been 
 vacillating and indecisive, taking a false view of things ; 
 but he was steadied now. 
 
 As the sun sank behind the blue range, like a radiant king 
 wrapping his robes of purple and gold about him, Ardslye 
 came in sight of the cottage. There it was resting in the 
 beauteous vale, while a halo of peace and happy content- 
 ment seemed to hover over it. The stillness of the summer 
 afternoon was broken only by the bird and insect choristers. 
 The bell-like notes of the wood thrush came from the grove 
 of beech trees by the spring. That little fount of bubbling 
 melody, the house wren, flitted about in the alder thicket 
 near the path, singing with its accustomed cheeriness. 
 
 John turned aside into the beech grove to slake his thirst 
 at the cool spring before he crossed the remaining fifty yards 
 that separated him from the house. 
 
 Mankind loves to dally with the cup of joy, as the thirsty 
 toper, restraining himself , loves to look in eager anticipation 
 upon his glass ere he quaffs it. Perhaps the larger part of 
 life's joy is in anticipation. Of the actual realization of 
 felicity there is little, and it never lasts long. When can a 
 man say, " now I am happy; now I have achieved all that 
 I wish ; now I will enjoy the realization of my ambition and 
 desires? " It is always to-morrow, next month, next year. 
 The future is filled with the phantom shapes of satisfaction;
 
 286 STUBS OF TIME. 
 
 which lure and beckon, but vanish or recede when we would 
 come up with them. As a cat delays the killing of a mouse 
 so as to play with it, and prolong the pleasurable excite- 
 ment, so we hesitate to pluck and eat the fruit for which we 
 have longed, striven and prayed knowing that once eaten 
 it is gone, and that then another arduous way to another 
 goal will stretch before us ; knowing that half of delight is 
 in expectation and suspense. Possibly the acme of mental 
 joy is reached not in the actual gratification of a wish, but 
 in the consciousness of the immediate power to gratify the 
 wish. 
 
 So John, having quenched his thirst, stood on the thresh- 
 old of what he thought to be the crowning joy of his life, 
 and hesitated to enter, while he looked into the clear, 
 bubbling waters of the spring, and mused. He could feel 
 the quickened beating of his heart, and he knew that he had 
 a vague fear that fate might turn against him at the last 
 moment. 
 
 After thus pondering for some time, with heart beating 
 faster, he turned, and started towards the house. As he 
 came from among the trees, and rounded the sharp bend 
 in the path, he walked suddenly against a woman. The 
 woman's face was concealed by a big sunbonnet, and she 
 carried a water bucket which told her mission at the spring. 
 
 Recovering from his surprise at the collision, John hastily 
 stepped back from the path to give her right of way. But, 
 she, removing the bonnet from her head, looked him in the 
 eye ; and then he saw it was Laura. 
 
 " Why are you here why have you come again? " she 
 asked him. 
 
 In a few words, he told her everything ; and then hand
 
 AFTER ALL. 287 
 
 in hand the}' went to the house. Matters were explained 
 to the good old couple with whom Laura lived, and such 
 simple arrangements as were necessary were made for a 
 speedy wedding. Burgess was sent for, and consulted. 
 He was much pleased at the turn of affairs ; he said if they 
 would just give him time, he thought he could get a fiddle 
 and some dozen or so mountain girls and beaux to come 
 and celebrate the wedding with seemly festivities. 
 
 A little after dark Johnnie came in with a string of 
 squirrels he had shot. His mother's joy quickly infected 
 him ; and though he did not understand everything, he 
 knew that his father had come to stay with them. 
 
 Within a week John and Laura were married, a minister 
 having come for thirty miles over the mountains to per- 
 form the ceremony. Tim Burgess found it so difficult to 
 collect guests in their sparsely populated regions, that it 
 was decided to have a very quiet wedding. But the fiddle 
 was forthcoming, and Tim rendered some very sweet and 
 sentimental old melodies. 
 
 That night they gathered around the fire in their room, 
 John, his wife, and little son ; and hearts were opened, and 
 the stories of life told. 
 
 " I decided not to go to the city," Laura said in answer 
 to her husband's questions relative to her leaving home 
 after the birth of her child : "I did not want to go there 
 where vice stalks abroad, and poverty, where it exists, is so 
 abject. I wanted to raise my child amid the largeness and 
 sublimity of Nature. In the woods, in the fields, there is no 
 poverty, no vice. I wanted to raise him where his nature 
 could expand in all of its true proportions, strong and 
 riginal. For he was conceived in love, and I did not want
 
 288 STUBS OF TIME. 
 
 him bred in narrowness and conventionality. Here in this 
 mountain valley he can grow, while a mother's love, and 
 the holy influences of Nature mold his character. Here let 
 the majesty and stability of the mountains be impressed 
 upon his character ; let the pure fresh air of these altitudes 
 be imbibed in his very soul ; let the sinewy lithesomeness and 
 grace of the mountain ash be that of his frame ; and let 
 the tender and modest beauty of the wild mountain rose be 
 that of his heart." 
 
 Some months after John and Laura had been wed, and 
 while they were living in that rest and contentment of mind 
 which often comes as the aftermath of tribulation ; while 
 they worked cheerily together as though each was the other's 
 preordained complement; he performing joyously the 
 heavier labor which was necessary to meet their physical 
 needs, while she did the lighter:' one day there came news 
 that Maud Byrnewood had died ; that during her last illness 
 her mind had dwelt constantly on John, and remorsefully 
 on her treatment of him ; and that she had made her will 
 and left him the greater part of her fortune. 
 
 The news caused no ripple in the calm, placid life of John 
 and his little family. 
 
 " I will only keep enough to buy this valley for our 
 home," he told Laura; "the rest shall go to educa- 
 tional and eleemosynary institutions. We know now 
 wherein happiness consists, and that the voice of the nobler 
 instincts is the only guide to it. Love is best love and 
 a high purpose. Life is worthless which has no ideal above 
 itself. The old truths, the old principles, the yearnings of 
 the heart ; they are right after all."
 
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