UC-NRLF
111 711
GIFT OF
Berkeley Public Library*
/ :
sARWOOD .
A NOVEL
BY THE AUTHOR OF "THE ODD TRUMP."
flew
E. J. HALE & SO^ ? PUBLISHEBS,
MUKRAY STREET.
1875.
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1875. by
E. J. HALE & SOX,
in the office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington.
PR EFACE.
Most Courteous Reader :
The Author has only endeavoured to indicate in
these pages how Youth may pass into Manhood through the
portals of Grief; how Manhood may grow into full maturity
in the practice of self-abnegation, without the lapse of years.
For the rest, the story is simply told, and appeals to noth-
ing but your gentler sympathies. And if it shall happen that
the characters herein rudely sketched shall assume shape and
identity, and grow with you, as they have with him, into
living realities, and so awaken your kindly interest, then
the Author will have accomplished his purpose and won his
reward.
478743
CONTENTS.
HARWOOD.
PAGE.
CHAPTER I. Preliminary 7
II. Book Making. .-. 11
{II. The First Ordeal 15
IV. The Second Ordeal 19
Y. The Third Ordeal 23
VI. The Third Ordeal Concluded 26
VII. Eureka! 31
HERBERT'S JOURNAL.
CHAPTER VIII. First Impressions 36
IX. The Haunted Laurels 45
X. Captain Delaney 53
XL Misteono 55
XII. The Doctor 60
XIII. Ret 64
XIV Herbert V8
XV. Kindred 92
XVI. A Parting 96
A BUNDLE OF LETTERS 130
HERBERT'S JOURNAL RESUMED.
CHAPTER XVII. Mr. Denham 129
XVIII. Allen Harwood's . Letter 134
XIX. Wheal Pentland 133
XX. Heartbroken 148
XXL Recognition 156
XXII. TheCrisis : 170
XXIII. Barnard Harwood 178
XXIV. A Year Later. . 190
HARWOOD.
CHAPTER I.
PRELIMINARY.
YE who listen with credulity to the whispers of fancy, and
pursue with eagerness the phantoms of hope $ who expect
that age will perform the promises of youth, and that the deficien-
cies of the present day will be supplied by the morrow ; attend to
the story of " Harwood " and the publishers.
The foregoing is a slight improvement upon the opening sentence
of " Easselas." It has been quoted to many an unhappy student
of rhetoric as the culmination of elegance in English composition.
It is an undeniable fact that this history of the Abyssinian prince,
admitted to the front rank among English classics, is almost un-
known to the present enlightened age ; and it may be that it has
been ostracized, like Aristides the Just, because humanity cannot
stand prolonged arrogant assumption, even if well founded. The
courteous reader will, therefore, please note that the above sentence
is a quotation. The last thing I should dream of doing would be
to kill Harwood by writing too elegantly at the outset.
To descend to plain prose, then, I invoke the reader's patience
while I relate the story of Harwood's birth. And I counsel the
cultivation of this virtue the more earnestly, not only because of
its inherent excellence, but also because patience is the very attri-
bute that will be most exercised in getting through the following
pages.
More than a dozen years ago I was an exile from home and
kindred. It does not matter how this came about, and it is enough
to say that the exile was endured in the way of known duty. The
Sahara to which I banished myself was the City of New York, and
the solitude of that desert was the more horrible from the density
;i
:": %,
8 HABWOOD.
of its population. Some good writer, whose name Las escaped me,
has made a similar remark in different language, and the fact that
two writers, who have never met to exchange opinions, should
assert the same general proposition, is a strong argument in favour
of its verity.
During the day I was constantly occupied, having charge of
interests of considerable importance, and labouring under a con-
sciousness of responsibility that was heavy enough to keep my
thoughts employed. But
" "When night came o'er the plain,
And moonlight o'er the sea,"
\
I found myself longing for human companionship. I wandered
about the corridors of the hotel, and looked, with all the curiosity
I could muster, upon the various types of humanity that crowded
them. In all seriousness, I was an object of pity, because in all
the throngs I there encountered night after night, there was not a
solitary being that awakened or experienced one thought of human
sympathy within me or for me. The hotel life became intolerable
within a week. To escape from it I wandered through scores of
streets running from the Hudson to East Eiver in search of lodg-
ings. At last I found a house in a quiet neighbourhood, where I
rented a room. The excitement of the change and the study of
my new surroundings availed for two or three nights, and then the
loneliness came back.
In all essentials my life was a vagrant one. I always got out
of the house when dawn arrived, and wandered about the streets
aimlessly until breakfast time. I not only wanted companionship
but I also wanted good coffee. At the period to which I refer cof-
fee in its virgin state was a very expensive article, but coffee that
was made of chicory, baked beans, burnt sugar and sole leather was
comparatively cheap. It is highly probable that tea of some sort
of chop, unsophisticated, could be found in most of the eating
places 5 but coffee, never ! I read with a daily shudder about forty
signs in shop windows, which mendaciously announced that the
purest Mocha or Java (always roasted and ground, so as to defy
analysis) could be obtained within at an absurdly low figure. My
early education had been faulty in that I had never been taught to
imbibe tea. In my mind's eye this fragrant beverage was ever-
more associated in some weird fashion with panada, senna and
manna, quassia and chamomile flowers. I longed for coffee but I
PRELIMINARY. 9
found it not. Why, in the name of wonder, did not some enter-
prising Yankee open a coffee house on Broadway, and set a little
nigger in the window behind plate glass, and let him turn a coffee
roaster, fed with the genuine berry in sight of an admiring public ?
He would have rivalled Astor in wealth by this time.
I got meals in this vagabond fashion at numberless eating places,
from Delmonico's down or up, as the reader chooses. I cannot
say that I ate breakfast or dinner. I fed just as a horse does, but
did not dine. You cannot dine in a civilized manner while your
jaws only masticate in grim silence. They were also intended to
be used in conversation ; but in my dining places I heard no con-
versation nothing but the clatter of dishes and the gnashing of
teeth. This was suggestive, and my loneliness increased. I began
to pity myself. And here I paus^ to warn the gentle reader to avoid
similar folly. It is the first step toward madness. It is the most
indigo hued of Blue Devils !
One night I met the landlady as I entered my lodgings, and she
very politely invited me into the parlour, saying, " I would find it
more cheerful. 7 ' In sheer desperation I followed her, and she in-
troduced me formally to four men and four women. They were all
eight talking when I entered, but my glum countenance dampened
them for a little time. I sat by a young lady, and after due delib.
eration I startled her by announcing that it had rained that day.
It is possible that she had learned the fact before, but she was too
polite to say so. And then, the ice being broken, all eight began
to talk again. They talked at me, across me, under my arm, over
my head, and every way but to me. I cannot say what kept them
back, but they were somehow repelled. I was negatively magnet-
ized. They had but one topic, upon which they rung countless
changes. It was well let us say the taking of Sebastopol.
My heart was sick of Sebastopol, of Inkermann and of Balaklava.
The Charge of the Six Hundred seemed to be a very foolish piece
of business, and I had a horrible suspicion that the account
was about three quarters lies. But the women two of them were
deeply pious made a kind of hideous religion out of the taking of
Sebastopol. The Eugged Eussian Bear was the Yicar Apostolic of
the enemy of mankind. Those of the Six Hundred who rode, as
Tennyson says, into the mouth of some place, came out again and
were incontinently canonized. I don't believe they came out at
all. While the talk went on I sat apart and mused. I thought
of thousands of gentle women, and tens of thousands of little chil-
10 HARWOOD. %
dren, who were widowed and orphaned by the glorious strife over
which those four women gloated. There was nothing in their talk
to indicate any personal interest in the savage contest, but it is
certain that they feasted most ravenously where the carnage was
greatest. One of the men was Reverend, and I said something to
him about this strange appetite that possessed the women. His
answer was a quotation from Holy Writ : " For wheresoever the
carcase is there will the eagles be gathered together." He meant
me to understand that the women were she eagles, and he thought
the eagles were good birds. I did not tell him that those men-
tioned in his quotation fed on carrion. It was less lonely in my
room, and I slipped out unnoticed, leaving them regaling.
It was too early for bed, so I lighted a cigar. Something that
had been said in the parlour brought to my mind a family I had
known in another city. There were some remarkable incidents in
their history, and as the smoke gathered around my head I began
to fill up intervals in their story, weaving a sort of plot. I found
comfort here, and getting my portfolio I began to write. It was
a total change in my habits of thought : It was the inception of a
Purpose : I would write a Book !
And so, night after night, for months, the work proceeded. My
loneliness was gone. The people who grew up into shape and in-
dividuality were living realities to me. Oh, reader ! if they shall
also grow into realities with thee !
Thus was "Harwood" born. During the day the calls upon my
faculties were almost incessant, but I would catch myself or my
thoughts at odd intervals slipping away from the unreal events of
my daily life to the dear friends who were waiting for me in my
portfolio. I always quitted them with regret and returned to them
with delight. In them I found companionship and sympathy. I
did not force them to keep within any set grooves. I had settled
their destinies, it is true ; yet I allowed them to reach their various
goals in their own way. Ordinarily, they were tractable enough,
but sometimes they took the bit in their teeth and bolted. The
reader will please bear this in mind, and whenever these characters
misbehave in any way, remember that the author was blameless.
One night or rather one morning, for I remember hearing the
clock strike two I wrote " Finis." It was a great shock to me.
For a week I was dispirited and nervous, and then I began a
sequel: "The Lacy Diamonds." Have patience, gentle reader;
it is progressing.
BOOK MAKING. 11
CHAPTER II.
BOOK MAKING.
"TTTHEN " Harwood " was finished I was still a comparative
V V stranger in New York. I had business acquaintances by
the score, but I had no intimate friends. The good natured people
whom I encountered in my daily occupation treated me well and
kindly, but I knew none of them well enough to venture even a
hint of authorship to them. Busy men, all of them, hunting dol-
lars while the sun shone, and begrudging the minutes wasted in
unremunerative conversation. There were certain topics of ab-
sorbing interest to me which would also interest them. But they
all looked at these only on one side, and I soon discovered the
profitless nature of any discussions.
It chanced one day that business brought me into contact with
a publishing house that had not been long established in the me-
tropolis. The accidental acquaintance thus begun ripened rap-
idly into friendship. The members of this firm knew something
about Sebastopol and the Charge of the Six Hundred, and held
my views about that notable conflict. It was very refreshing to
me to spend occasional half hours in this pleasant company ; and
meeting always a cordial welcome, I gradually fell into the
regular habit of smoking my after-lunch cigar in their establish-
ment, discussing new books with reference both to their commer-
cial value and their intrinsic merits. Yery frequently I would
find them engaged in reading and correcting proofs of their own
publications, of which they already had a considerable list. I had
forgotten "Harwood," which was packed away among sundry
fragmentary manuscripts at home after taking a journey which
will be recounted in the succeeding chapter. I retained a som-
nolent sort of interest in the bantling, feeling a father's affection
for it, mingled with a compassionate appreciation of its demerits.
With Touchstone I thought, " An ill-favoured thing, sir, but mine
own." So, while I gathered in many new facts, and became some-
what learned in the art of book making, the thought of getting
" Harwood " dressed in type never occurred to me.
As a rule, my friends did not publish fictitious literature.
Beams of this description of property were offered to them on
the most flattering terms. Nearly all the authors who sent their
12 HAEWOOD.
precious manuscripts generously proposed that the firm should
print the work at their own expense, and allow the usual royalty
to the writer. I am convinced that none of the authors dreamed
of anything less than ten editions, if the work could only be got
into print and within reach of a hydra-headed public, waiting
with bated- breath for copie%, hot from the press. As our inti-
macy progressed I learned the stereotyped form of rejection.
" The present state of trade ;" " would be pleased to print at the
expense of the author, involving an outlay of so many dollars ;"
and other polite intimations that must have been eminently dis-
gusting to the manuscript makers. There seemed to be an inex-
orable law that connected authorship with irapecuniosity.
On one occasion I happened to be present when my friends
were packing up one of these forlorn manuscripts to return " by
express " to the rightful owner. I had heard of its arrival some
days previously.
u Have you really read that great mass of papers ?" I inquired.
" Certainly ," answered the junior.
" How much is there IP
" Seven hundred and eight pages," he replied.
" What is it about F
"I don't know. The title is " and he turned the parcel
over and consulted the first page " l The Eemorse of the Yictim.'
There are some very good things in ( it. Some of the words are in
five syllables.' 7
" Did you understa-nd them all f ' said I.
" Oh, no," he answered coolly. " I don't think the author
understood them either, but that makes no difference. Did you
ever read ' Talmanasia f "
" No."
"Nor'Shanghif"
" No, certainly not," I replied, with a shudder.
" My dear sir," said he, with a grisly compassion, " you are not
abreast of the age! Haven't read 'Shanghi!' Don't you ever
read anything f "
" Yes," I faltered, " I read the Herald sometimes. Have you
read l Shanghi V "
"Not exactly read it, but I have sold five hundred copies. It is
a great success. The publisher paid ten thousand dollars for the
manuscript and copyright. Made money on his investment too."
This interview made a profound impression upon me. i knew a
BOOK MAKING. 13
man who was the happy owner of " Shanghi," and as my con-
science forbade an investment in that direction, I borrowed the
book, from which I had read sundry extracts when it appeared,
That night I sat down resolutely and began the book. I read two
chapters at the beginning, two in the middle, and two at the end
of the story. I did not have a stroke of apoplexy, nor cerebro-
spinal meningitis ; but I shall die in the belief that an additional
chapter would have given me both these ailments with a touch of
delirium tremens thrown in. The next day I took " Harwood "
with me at lunch time and left it with my Mend.
" I have known you to read about forty bulkier manuscripts,' 7 1
said, " and I have brought this for you to read. I just want your
candid judgment, comparing this with the forty you have read and
rejected. Of course I have no expectation of printing it. Bead it
at your leisure.' 7
" What is it f said he.
" It is a novel which I wrote some years ago. It kept me from
going mad while I was making it. If you find, in attempting to
read it, any symptoms of delirium tremens creeping over you, I
hope you will stop in time. I have not read one line in it since
I finished it, and I do not expect ever to read a line of it in the
future."
" All right," he answered cheerfully, " I will read it with,
pleasure."
It will only be when the gentle reader closes this book (with a
sigh of relief) that he can appreciate my amazement at my next
interview with my book making friend.
" i Harwood 7 is a first class story," said he, decidedly, " and we
will be glad to publish it if you desire us to do so."
" Are you serious F said I.
" Entirely serious," he answered. " We will print it whenever
you say the word, but I advise you first to try some one else I
mean some other publishers."
" I do not understand you," I replied. " I have little or no
acquaintance with other publishers, and if I had I would select
your house out of the whole world of publishers. What do you
mean by such advice P
" Simply this : we are not much known to the trade as pub-
lishers, especially of fiction, and our customers are mainly among
houses that do not deal in novels. Now, it can do no harm to
take < Harwood ' to these other firms which have a larger outlet
14 HAEWOOD.
for just this sort of literature, and if they will print it, giving you
a copyright, let them have it on any reasonable terms they may
propose. Haven't you written another story V
" Yes," I answered with a charming blush, "I have written a
sequel to c Harwood ? that is, I am writing it now."
"Well, suppose you get one of these firms who have a large list
of novel-buying customers to issue < Harwood,' and suppose they
place it in the hands of five or ten thousand readers, don't you see
that another novel by the author of i Harwood 7 would have a
large sale ?"
The senior partner stood by, apparently endorsing this proposi-
tion. These gentlemen have had large experience in book mak-
ing, I thought, and they must be right.
" Have you read < Harwood f " I asked.
" Not all of it," he replied, composedly. " I have looked over
it. You know, if we print it I shall have the opportunity to read
the proofs. Your penmanship is peculiar, very peculiar. I have
read manuscript for forty years, and thought I was equal to any-
thing, but yours is very peculiar."
It did not seem politic to pursue this branch of the subject. I
tucked " Harwood " under my arm and prepared to depart.
" Do not misunderstand us," said the junior, following me to
the door. " We would be glad to publish your book at once, but,
for your own sake, and for the sake of the larger circulation, you
had better let Pippinville or Charlesburg have it. They have an
outlet for ten thousand copies, and that is better than ten thous-
and separate advertisements. Go to Pippinville! I read the
manuscript aloud, and all my auditors pronounced it a first rate
story. If you are doubtful, you might submit it to some other
critic, in whom you have confidence; but, remember, we are ready
to print whenever you say the word. I don't like the title much;
it indicates nothing."
a l'll call it < The Eemorse of the Victim,' " I said promptly.
" I don't think that would be an improvement. What do you
call your other story $
" ' The Lacy Diamonds.'"
" That is better. Good morning."
TEE FIRST OEDEAL. 15
CHAPTER III.
THE FIRST ORDEAL.
T HAVE read somewhere of a young mother who waited with un-
-i- speakable anxiety for the verdict of society upon her baby. To
her it was the loveliest iufant that ever wore long clothes. It
did not talk or walk, but that mother was entirely satisfied that
it could do both if it pleased. She had always rather liked babies,
and made full allowance for any little departures from the path of
rectitude of which they were guilty ; but the peculiarity in her
baby's case was that it made no such departures. When it first
said " Goo !" which, by-the-bye, is a very common remark for in-
fants to make that mother translated the monosyllable into a
long speech in English without the aid of lexicographers. If you
had the temerity to suggest a possible error in her rendering of
" Goo !" this young mother, if polite, would not pluralize the
original and apply it to you in words, but she would do so in her
inmost soul.
Some such experience was mine a few months ago when I dug
" Harwood " out of a mass of fragmentary manuscripts. You see
it was my first born. The horrible dread of a public verdict the
possible bete noir of all embryo authors haunted me and kept the
precious infant hidden a dozen years. I cannot tell what brought
him to light at last, but am free to confess that I entertained a
profound affection for him. I did not read the manuscript ! There
were one hundred and fifty-six closely written pages! It was
written on foreign post paper, very thin and flimsy, and the ink
had faded a little. I had selected this paper because I intended
to mail the manuscript to Parlours' London Journal, which in fact
I did. I do not call that the first ordeal, however, because nobody
with a grain of sense could expect a journal that published such
trash as Parlours' contained would appreciate " Harwood." In
due time I got my manuscript back with a polite note (I don't
believe the fellow read a page of it), and a gentle rebuke for not
sending " postage stamps for return MS.," according to advertise-
ment. It is only just to qualify the above remark about trash,
which should be limited to the serial stories in Parlours'. All the
rest is of good quality.
Between the date of " Har wood's" birth or I should say his death^
16 HARWOOD.
at the murderous hands of Parlours' and the date of his resurrec-
tion, I had written sundry small squibs, waifs upon the broad sea
of light literature, and these had met with a fair degree of success.
They were printed in a monthly still living, and which I hope may
live a thousand years. The editor (may he live a thousand years,
too!) has been my true and constant friend, and one strong mani-
festation of his friendship was in his treatment of my fugitives.
He would change objectionable words, and mend my lapses in
taste or diction never altering but to improve, never touching
but to adorn. Sometimes he would wholly reject some carelessly
written story, healing the bruise to my vanity by saying " it was
not worthy of my reputation !" and, he was always right in the re-
jection, if his salve was a flattering unction. I knew his taste was
perfect, his judgment sound, and his scholarship beyond question.
Had I been handled by a critic less acute or less friendly I should
have been snubbed, and should have laid my pen aside. But he
encouraged while he instructed me, and of all the helpers I have
met in my literary working he has been most helpful. What can
I render him in requital ? I dedicate " Harwood " to him with the
hand of my heart.
Having said this much in his praise, the melancholy duty re-
mains to say a word per contra. He is an editor! To fill this
office worthily it is necessary that a man should divest himself of
ordinary human- attributes. Of course, I refer to editors of maga-
zines, whose chief writing is in the reviews or critical notices of
new books. Your regular review writer is not necessarily trucu-
lent, as in most cases he does not read the books whose titles he
places at the head of his articles, using them merely as mottoes,
upon which he builds his essay. He need not read more than a
sentence or two (in order to quote) and he scarifies or pats his
author on the back without the slightest reference to the special
deliverance under review, but with due regard to his previous re-
cord, his political or theological proclivities, or any other matter
which the reviewer wishes to praise or blame. I know this is the
system, for I, also, have written quarterly articles. But this does
not apply to your magazine editor !
The busy bee sucks his sustenance from the opening flower, and
it is honey. The gentle lamb that little Laura had, and the cross-
grained old rani he became in later mouths, subsisted on grass.
The giraffe that stalks over the arid African desert browses on the
tree tops. The ostrich, his countryman, is said to feed on ten-
THE FIRST OEDEAL. If
penny nails. The fierce Kodent, whose story is so frequently re-
peated in "The House that Jack built," ate corn or malt, and was
eaten in turn by Grimalkin. The larger feline beast that prowls
in tropic jungles, with shaggy mane and hideous roar, eats ante-
lopes and other small deer and man eats meat and bread until
he becomes an editorial critic. Then he changes his diet and sub-
sists upon the gore of authors ! He tomahawks them, he scalps
them (unless they have failed to use the Balm of Columbia and
have ceased to be hirsute), and he sucks their blood. He sits
upon their carcases like a vampire and fans them with his wings
while he drains their arteries !
As my kind friend belonged to this fraternity it would hardly
be supposed that I would trust " Harwood " in his clutches. But
I did. It was like sending a dear little infant to play in the lava
beds with Captain Jack in the neighbourhood. But I did it, thus
arguing:
If he grinds his bones into powder and gloats over my misery
in bereavement, it will be in manuscript, and, therefore, more toler-
able. It is far better to be crushed in this form than in print.
And, besides, he has to crunch the bones, like Bulwer's Griffin, in
solitude, and cannot appeal to an admiring public until the book
is published. Then, he has praised my minor efforts once and
again, and perhaps he may say, " it is no worse than the current
trash of the day !" Or he may have recently gorged himself with
the gore of some unlucky wretch who preceded me, and, with
sated appetite, would glance complacently over part of the hun-
dred and fifty-six pages. Or he may dismiss me with a graceful
wave of his editorial hand, and with compassionate kindness say,
" Burn it, my friend, burn it !" These are the various things I
expected. I knew he would tell the truth ; I knew he would pounce
upon blemishes and root them out ; and one morning I drank a
cup of strong coffee and sent him my manuscript !
After the thing was done beyond recall I began to repent. I
did not much care for the demolition of my book, but I suddenly
remembered that my characters would also perish ! " Oh, my
gentle Eet !" I thought, " how could I be so cruel as to consign
thee to such tender mercies ! If I had sent thee to visit Scarfaced
Charley it is true thy lovely tresses might dangle at the belt of
the savage, but now ! thou art exposed to a more hideous fate !
In painting thee I have dealt so tenderly with thee from the very
first that I have grown to love thee, my darling, and now, poof !
2
18 HARWOOD.
with one stroke of his pen this vampire will consign thee to blank
annihilation." I was heartily miserable. Parlours' murder did
not hurt me one whit, but this time, if killed, " Harwood " would
be beyond the curative powers of burnt brandy.
And so passed two wretched days. On the third my manu-
script came back, neatly wrapped up and sealed. You know
when you bury a fellow you put him in a mahogany box and var-
nish it. My friend is neat and orderly in his habits, and I fancied
I could see him smacking his lips as he wrapped up that corpse,
and gleefully wrote my address in those plain round characters of
his. I knew, when I should raise the lid I mean, unwrap the
parcel I should find his " comments " among the bones, written
in the same plain hand.
Brush away the tears from your eyes, dear sympathizing reader,
and go on with me to the end. I untied the parcel, found the
comments neatly folded reposing upon the first page of my manu-
script, and, summoning all my manhood, I opened and read what
follows :
" MY DEAR : You need not be afraid to send that story to
any publisher ; and as for the critics, you may snap your fingers
at them. It is good out and out. I had intended taking it by
instalments of 30 or 40 pp., but I got so interested in the thing
that I went clear through in two sittings. It is natural, affecting,
powerful.
"But "
The reader need not heed the " buts," though I did. A whole
army of " buts " could not vanquish that elegant sentence which
I have honestly quoted, every word. You cannot add to it. Oh,
reader, be encouraged ! If a blood-thirsty editor could say so
much, what must thou not say, who art so kind and gentle ? Oh,
critic ! let fall thy blade on vulnerable crests ; u Harwood " bears
a charmed life !
Here endeth ordeal the first.
THE SECOND. ORDEAL. 19
CHAPTER IV.
THE SECOND ORDEAL.
nnHOSE "buts" of my friendly critic gave me occupation for
-L several nights. I cannot point out all the amendments he
suggested now. The reader will please give him credit for any
passages that appear particularly brilliant. The needed emenda-
tion was a labour of love, and I was specially elated at the thought
that I had '" bagged n one of the gunners, whose business was to
slaughter romances. As for the rest Thomas, Richard and Henry
I have been snapping my fingers at them, in my mind's eye, ever
since I emerged from the primal ordeal. The athlete who comes
unscarred from his first arena enters the second with the calm con-
fidence that presages victory.
It was necessary to make a selection. There are numerous pub-
lishers in this happy country, who give to its myriad readers all
sorts of printed pabulum. I could not divide "Harwood" to
oblige them, and I did not desire to stir up a contention among
them by letting them all know the manuscript was open to propo-
sitions from type setters. Clearly, I was bound to move cautiously
and see what " terms " would be proposed. One at a time.
The name that first occurred to me was
FIDLER & BROTHERS.
There were four reasons for giving this firm the precedence : first,
they publish an unlimited quantity of novels. It is probable that
they have some mode of classification unknown to the general pub-
lic, but I arranged them in three classes in my own mind as those
I had read, those I had tried to read, and those from whose titles I
had recoiled with unspeakable horror. Among the first class was a
recent novel called " Biddy's Mistress.". I read this while it was be-
ing printed serially in Parlours' Journal, and survived, because I took
it in small doses as one takes castor oil in small, gelatinous capsules.
The only impression left by the story is a feeling of thankfulness
that it is over, and will not have to be taken again. I may as well
say here, that "Biddy's Mistress " is by the author of about a dozen
similar stories that have appeared serially in Parlours' Journal,
and I am satisfied that they were all written by the editor of that
periodical. Nothing but the fond blindness of paternity could ex-
20 HARWOOD.
cuse any editor for printing such astounding trash. And this
prolific gentleman is the writer of the polite note that accompanied
my returned manuscript, and that contained the complaint about
postage stamps ! Yet, Fidler & Brothers have reproduced these
inane narratives, which, being capsuled, I place in the first class
as those I have read. " Biddy's Mistress " was the last, and my re-
sentment is still aglow against it.
Now, I argued, if Fidler & Brothers can print and find circula-
tion for "Biddy's Mistress," what may they not do with "Har-
wood?"
The other three reasons may be taken together : Messrs. Fidler
& Brothers also print three periodicals of their own, and I think
they give serials in all of them ; one of these has a circulation that
is "unprecedented." If, therefore, they should appreciate my
work, and present it first serially in the unprecedentedly cir-
culating medium ; and secondly, using the same type, print it in
book form, I should be sure of reaching the greatest possible num-
ber of readers. It was not precisely patriotism that inspired me
to make the offer to them ; it was philanthropy. I wished to con-
fer the greatest good upon the greatest number. That I failed
was not my fault ; but it was the lasting misfortune of all Fidler
& Brothers' clients.
To recount the story of my failure with this enterprising firm,
let us begin at the beginning: I took my precious manuscript
and visited their colossal establishment one day about noon. I
climbed numberless steps in a spiral iron staircase, in search of
the authority who controlled the unprecedented periodical. I
found him occupied with a mass of manuscripts, and looking as
cool and collected as a blue bottle fly caught in a glue pot ; or, if
you please, in a mass of amber.
" Sir," said I, with a polite bow, " I have brought you a manu-
script."
" For the Unprecedented, sir P
" Yes, sir 5 if it should be found suitable;" and I handed the
precious packet. He received it very graciously and placed it in a
pigeon hole.
" I will have to trouble you to call again, sir, in about a week,"
he said. " I have several manuscripts here that have precedence."
"Before I go, sir," said I, " allow me to show you a note I have
just received from another editor, who is also a very severe critic,"
and I produced iny friend's epistle. "You need only read the
first sentence to see his estimate of the work."
THE SECOND ORDEAL. 21
He took that note, which ought to be printed in golden letters
and placed in a gorgeous frame, glanced incuriously at it, and
handed it back without comment. I thought I had "done" him,
whereas I had only " done" Harwood.
Let me explain.
The forty unfortunate gentlemen who were smothered in boiling
oil by Ali Baba's servant had, no doubt, an affection for each
other. Indeed, there -is a proverb extant, applied to persons of
their occupation, whi<?h gives them credit for honourable dealings
among themselves. But editors are not troubled with similar
amiable weaknesses. My opinion is, they would enjoy cutting
each other's throats. " So, when I revealed to the editor of the Un-
precedented the flattering opinion of the other, I might as well
have committed " Harwood " to the flames. Love me, love my dog.
Punctually, at the end of the week I climbed the spiral stairs
again. My editor was ready for me. Doubtless he was ready an
hour after my first interview.
" I have read your book, sir," he began, with the benevolent
smile that always precedes rejection. " I found it very interesting."
" I hope you will find room for it, then, in the < Unprecedented.' "
" Well, no," he said, with gushing tenderness, " it does not ex-
actly suit."
" Will you please favour me with your reason f
" It is quite readable," said he, gently, " but it is not quite up
to the Mark !"
I began to get into a rage, not violent, but suppressed. " Har-
wood " was rejected, so I might indulge in a venomous remark or
two.
" I believe you printed " Biddy's Mistress," not only in your
periodical but afterwards in a book."
" Yes ; that is one of Snooks'. We always print Snooks' stories."
" If you will allow me to say so," I ventured to say, " I think my
story is better reading than * Biddy's Mistress.' "
"Yes, so do I; but Snooks has a reputation, and I think lie
writes more in modern style. Your story is a little old fashioned,
but it is quite interesting."
" If you mean by * old fashioned' that it does not contain any
indecent allusions, to make it unfit to appear in any virtuous
household, you are certainly right."
This only made him smile. It occurred to me, also, that there
were several old fashioned stories that did not come under that
category.
32 HARWOOD.
" If you choose to offer your manuscript to the other periodical,"
said the editor, " it may be they will take it."
"Thank you, no !" answered I. " I wished to print it in your
Unprecedented for the sake of the circulation and consequent
notoriety. I am writing a sequel i The Lacy Diamonds ' and I
depended a little upon the reputation < Harwood ? might gain to
create a demand for that. Of course, I expected your house to
print it in book form also."
"You might apply to them," said the editor politely, "but I
don't think they would print it."
" Of course not," I said, as I rose to leave him ; " I could hardly
expect Messrs. Fidler & Brothers to do so. As there is no inter-
national copyright, they get food for their types without expense.
I am sorry you have had to read so many pages of defective pen-
manship in vain."
" Oh, that is a mere matter of business," he replied wearily ;
" while I am reading one I do not have to read another."
As I revolved around the spiral staircase in descending, I
thought I would count the steps. There were seventy-one. If he
had rushed out after me and offered me for " Harwood " ten dol-
lars a step for the two times I had surmounted them and the two
times I had descended, he would have received a prompt denial
" Harwood " was no longer for sale. Twenty eight hundred and
forty dollars would have been no temptation.
At the last step I found my good humour again. That
wretched man up stairs has to sit there day after day, reading
manuscripts ! How could I harbour resentment against him I
And then he has to cater to a depraved taste, and it was not his
fault that " Harwood" did not reach the Mark. I wonder if " Biddy's
Mistress" has made that attainment? Fidler & Brothers have
published, it and sold ten thousand copies, no doubt. People have
bought the book and read it, all over the country. Heaven forbid
that the author of " Harwood " should ever write up to that Mark!
THE TH1ED ORDEAL. 23
CHAPTER V,
THE THIRD ORDEAL.
ALMOST all modem novel writers have fallen into the perni-
cious habit of printing their works serially. The fraud was ?
doubtless, originally introduced by magazine proprietors, who
secured a continuance of subscription by stringing out a long
novel, by a popular author, through consecutive numbers of their
periodicals. Dickens, Bulwer, Thackeray, Collins and others fell
into the trap, which (in their cases) was probably well baited ;
but it is an abominable practice, and, so far as authors are con-
cerned, it is suicidal. People have slidden naturally from books
to magazines, and in another generation they will slide from
magazines to newspapers $ and then the last refuge of fiction
writers will be the New York Ledger style of narrative, "To be
continued." All of the " deathless " works of Fielding, Scott and
others, who lived before serials were invented, will be dead as
several door nails !
I must confess, however, that this choice bit of moralizing is an
afterthought, which came to my mind at the end of the third
ordeal, which remains to be recounted.
In addition to the slight stories which I wrote for the magazine
edited by my friendly critic, I wrote a multitude that he could
not find room for. These were published in various New York
periodicals, the best of them in Pippinville's Hebdomadal.
Nothing could be more satisfactory than the treatment I re-
ceived from the conductors of this periodical. Of all the papers I
prepared for them none were ever rejected, excepting one, and I
think that was crowded out, perhaps, by matter from other con-
tributors. At all events, my relations with the Hebdomadal were
always pleasant, and I felt certain that I had the inside track
there when I concluded to offer my larger bantling to them.
Messrs. Pippinville are very extensive publishers also, and have
the reputation of liberality in their dealings with authors whom
they immortalize with their types. For book printing my pros-
pects were a hundredfold brighter with them than with Messrs.
Fidler & Brothers. But I had the " serial " fever still raging,
and the Hebdomadal was my next choice, failing the Unprecedented.
The editor was a graceful writer, whose occasional contributions
24 EAEWOOD.
I had always read with great pleasure, and it is quite possible
that he had a fairish sort of opinion of my offerings, for "which he
has given me several small cheques.
When I presented myself and my manuscript to Mr. Bland,
therefore, I felt confident that I should find this last ordeal a very
smooth one. There might be reasons, such as far extended en-
gagements with other writers, that would bar " Harwood," but I
thought his merits would be recognized at least.
" Good morning, Mr. Bland,' 7 said I, as I entered his sanctum.
"I have not been in the Hebdomadal for so long a time that you are
in danger of forgetting me. The last time I was here you sur-
prised me by returning my manuscript.' 7
" We are still rejecting very freely," answered Mr. Bland. I
don't know whether he intended this for a semi-apology, for a
stopper upon further offerings, or for a warning. I was un-
daunted, however, and I drew out my hundred and fifty-six
pages.
" Well, sir," I said, " I beg to offer you a novel "
" Oh, you will have to see Mr. Chokemoff," he answered, hur-
riedly 5 he attends to the publication of books. You will find
him "
"Excuse me," said I, interrupting him. "I don't want Mr.
Chokemoff. I wish you to print this serially in the Hebdomadal.
Of course, Messrs. Pippin ville will utilize the type already set up,
and print it in book form after you have done with it."
" I don't see how I can do it." answered Mr. Bland, discontent-
edly. " I already have a serial running, and have no space to
spare, unless," he added, after a pause, " it should be for some-
thing particularly attractive. "
"Perhaps you can decide better after looking at my manu-
script. "
" Yery well, leave it with me, then ; I will try to look through
it in a day or two."
A " day or two " always means three days at least. I waited
three days and called again. Mr. Bland had not had time to ex-
amine " Harwood," but he opened the parcel and glanced at it
with infinite disgust.
"Thin paper!" he muttered, wrathfully, "and pale ink! It
seems to me that writers go out of their way to give trouble to
manuscript readers !"
" I regret the thin paper very much," I said, " but I intended
the story for an English journal, and
TEE THIED ORDEAL. 25
" To save a few cents postage you wrote on this abominable
paper!" lie answered, finishing the sentence for me. "Oh, dear!
it is in the form of a journal!" and he turned over a dozen leaves
rapidly, u and letters ! !" and here his patience entirely forsook
him, and he stuffed the thin leaves back into the portfolio with a
groan.
" My dear sir," I began, humbly, " I could not help it. The
form in which the story is told and most of it is literally
true "
" That is no advantage !"
" Well, the most natural way to get the events narrated was as
I have done it. Indeed, I do not see how I could do otherwise.
If I could only persuade you to read a little way into the
story "
" Leave it until Saturday, then," he said, savagely. " I will
read it, but I don't see how I can use it."
I waited until Monday.
Mr. Bland was quite composed when I appeared the next time.
He had read enough to get humanized a little.
" I have read part of your story," said he. " It is interesting,
but the title won't do. You ought to call it l Adventures in the
Southwest. 7 The name don't indicate anything. That descrip-
tion of the panther business is very readable ; but the title won't
do."
" You have not read enough, sir." I was getting mad by this
time. " If you had gone a little further you would have found
that the title is very appropriate. Now, please understand the
case. I have no difficulty to surmount to get < Harwood ' into
type, but I am anxious to secure a large circulation. I am writ-
ing a sequel, < The Lacy Diamonds,' and if I can make ' Harwood'
a success the next book will make its own way. If you print it
first in the Hebdomadal, and afterwards in a duodecimo book "
" Can't do it," said Mr. Bland, u it will have to be octavo. Could
not use the type in duodecimo."
" Well, I don't care about the size, but I do care about getting
the Pippinville imprint. If you would only break your leg, or
something, so that you would have to lie about at home for a few
days, you might get time to read the whole of the story."
" Leave it a few days longer," he answered, setting his teeth
with desperate determination, " and I will get through it ; but I
don't see how I can possibly use it in the Hebdomadal. Perhaps
the house will publish it, though."
26 HAEWOOD.
It is possible that the reader has had some experience of battle-"
fields. If so, he will remember that the excitement that resembles
trepidation passes away pretty soon after one gets positively
under fire. At first, the guns make a great deal of noise, and the
chance of getting hurt appears quite promising, especially if one
can see the fellows that are shooting ; but in a short time one ceases
to notice the dust and smoke and the snappish rattle of the guns,
and goes into the business with cold blooded ferocity. I began
my series of ordeals with becoming modesty and humility ; at the
end of the third and last I was bloodthirsty. I knew perfectly
well that the next interview with Mr. Bland would be the crisis.
I postponed it ten days. He should not say I hurried him.
I aru somewhat discomposed at revealing to the " general pub-
lic " so many of the secrets of book making, but candour is one of
my weaknesses. It may be that some would-be author will light
upon these revelations, and, profiting by my experience, he may
be led to abandon that Sisyphus-like occupation. It is the easiest
thing in nature to write a book ; it is somewhat more difficult to
get type, as these adventures of mine will prove, and then there is
something still to be encountered. Critics ? Bah ! who cares for
critics ? If any would-be author dreads them, let him try himself
to cut up some other author. He will soon find what a harmless
sort of amusement it is! But, rash man, know there is the
PUBLIC ! Ah, there is the only ordeal to be dreaded ! You may
get some kind friend (like the present writer, for example) to give
you a word of encouragement $ you may get through Tidier &
Brothers and Pippinville and Co., but beware of that hydra-
headed monster The Public !
CHAPTEE VI.
THE THIRD OEDEAL CONCLUDED.
AT the expiration of the ten days I found Mr. Bland in his
cosy sanctum. He was waiting for me and his mind was
made up. But being a good natured man he intended to let ine
down gently.
" I have read your manuscript/' he began, " and found it in-
teresting.' 7
THE THIED ORDEAL CONCLUDED. 27
" In spite of the journal and letters "
" Yes. Those are certainly faults, but not fatal faults. It
would have been far better to have told the story in the third
person, instead of the first. But there are more serious objec-
tions."
"What are they P
" Well, it is an American novel. Nobody wants an American
novel. I hardly know how an American novel could be made a
success."'
"I believe you have printed two or three in the Hebdomadal,
and issued them afterwards as books, and you have had a good
sale for them. Indeed, I have been told that the author had
obtained a very handsome price from another publisher for her
last copyright." This was intended for a shot ^between the eyes.
I knew there must be more or less soreness on that subject, as
there is more or less rivalry between publishers.
" We did print the books you refer to," said Mr. Bland, " but
there was something in them. I mean in Quantity. Now, yours
Why, there's nothing of it !"
u One hundred and fifty- six pages "
" Equal to less than a hundred of print ! Have you counted
the words V
" Yes. There are between four and five hundred words on a
page."
" Well. The Hebdomadal has seventeen hundred nearly. If I
were to print " Harwood " serially it would run through about
three months and then it would make an octavo of eighty pages.
There's nothing of it ! I tell you there's nothing of it !"
" I might enlarge it somewhat," said J, rather disconcerted.
" There is hardly any descriptive writing in it n
" No use. It is too old-fashioned. And then the date !" and
he pulled " Harwood " out of his pigeon hole and viciously tore
him open ll Eighteen hundred and thirty-six ! Do you know
that was nearly forty years ago I Why, nobody was born at that
era! You might as well have laid the scene on Mount Ararat
and described the landing of Noah and his family. Oh, the date
is totally out of the question."
" My dear sir, I think I have mentioned before that the sequel
i The Lacy Diamonds J
" Oh, we have nothing to do with the sequel. The date must
be obliterated. You need not have any date. What in the world
28 EARWOOD.
do you want with a date f Nobody cares about dates that is,
nobody is going to grope in the darkness of remote antiquity when
lie is reading a novel. Scratch out all the years, and leave the
months only."
" Well, that might be done, I suppose. Perhaps you are right.
Anyhow, I perceive the Hebdomadal rejects the story. Give me
the manuscript."
" There's Mr. Chokemoff. You might try him. The story is
interesting. I read a hundred and forty pages and then turned
over to see how it ended. But there's nothing of it! They might
perhaps print it and give you a copyright, if you could make it
three or four times as big. I don't see how you could enlarge it,
though. Look at this !" and he snatched a book from a shelf,
" here is one of those novels you spoke of there are four hundred
pages of over eight hundred words ! Three hundred and twenty
thousand words ! Now, there is something of that !"
" I am ashamed to say that I have not read it. In fact, I did
not try. Good morning, Mr. Bland."
My portfolio felt very lank and light as I turned my back upon
Pippin ville's establishment. I saw great rows of fat books ?
quartos and octavos, and wondered how the writers had ever got
BO many words together. Do words roll out of successful writers
as water bubbles up from a spring ? I saw " Trench on Words,"
and had half a mind to buy it. I knew a man in New York who
could talk straight on for seven years without fatigue, and without
saying anything. I thought of getting him shut up somewhere
with a stenographer, and so making the requisite number of pages.
Words! I had been under the delusion that Ideas were the im-
portant things.
But the objections to " Harwood " looked formidable as I re-
flected iipon them. " Old-fashioned and out of date !" If this is
well taken then Ivanhoe and The Talisman come under the same
condemnation. Perhaps these critics referred rather to the style
than to the matter ? And here " Harwood " is possibly faulty. I
endeavoured to write plain, simple English, and modern light
literature is often made up of dictionaries and encyclopedias.
" Journal and letters !" Well, " Eob Roy " is all made up of letters,
and " Redgauntlet" is largely so composed, and these books have
been tolerably successful. As for the journalistic form, Wilkie
Collins has managed to invest it with considerable interest in
" The Woman in White." The " Date !" Mr. Bland was parti-
THE THIRD ORDEAL CONCLUDED. 29
cularly savage in his assault upon the date. But I happened to
remember a book, entitled "Waverley; or, 'Tis Sixty Years Since."
If Sir Walter could go back sixty years I might venture on forty.
Supposing these disposed of, there remains the unanswerable
" Nothing of it !" Poor, little " Harwood !" After my long incu-
bation have I really only hatched out a mouse ? Is it only on a
par with one of those pious Sunday-school books, whose heroine
gets to heaven by having a drunken father, and a mother dying
of consumption'? One hundred and fifty-six pages ! Do you call
that nothing ? And besides, the story is all told, be it long or
short. It seems to me that the time to stop writing is when you
have completed your story. Something must be done, however,
to enlarge my book, and I suddenly remembered that I could get
valuable suggestions from Mr. Yampyre.
I became acquainted with Mr. Yampyre some years ago in this
wise. I had been writing a series of articles for the New York
Blazer and found it necessary to read proofs. To do this I was
obliged to climb to the fifth story of the Blazer building about
twice a week. The proofs were always brought to me in Mr.
Yampyre's office a little apartment with one window opening on
the street and I usually made my corrections at his desk. He
was introduced to me as " the book editor," and he was and is the
most curiously amiable man that I know. Six feet in his stock-
ings, or out of them, weighing about two hundred, bearded like
the pard, he is as gentle as an infant, and seemingly incapable of
anger. Yet his " Book Notices " are perfectly terrific. The Blazer
has only one mission among books, and that is to exterminate
them. We became rather intimate while I was making my series
(though since these were finished I had not seen him for two or
three years), and he would sometimes read passages from Ms
proofs. The contrast between his jolly good nature and the blood-
thirsty .stuff he wrote was positively ludicrous.
I found him at his desk on the last day of my third ordeal, and
he brought the ordeal to its conclusion.
" What in the world is that parcel under your arm P he asked,
after we exchanged greetings.
" It is a manuscript.' 7
" Too big for the Blazer /" he said j " what is it P
" A novel ! And I give you fair warning that I am not going
to stand any of your slashing. You must speak well of it when
it appears."
30 HARWOOD.
" Oan't do it, my boy ! I am sorry for you, but this shop don't
deal in i soft sawder P If you dare to print that lot of stuff, I'll
certainly skin it !"
" Have you no bowels of compassion "
" Not a bowel ! But I can probably slash it in such a fashion
as to attract attention to it, and that will make it sell. This is all
you will care about, you know. Are you going to print it anony-
mously f
" Certainly. But I'm in a quandary, and have climbed up your
horrid staircase to ask you for help."
" What is the trouble ? I am quite ready to help you in any
way in my power, except by partial criticism. That is not in my
line." Here a pallor overspread his handsome face, and he faltered
out, " You won't want me to read your manuscript *P
" Not a word ; never fear. But the trouble is that there's no-
thing of it!"
" Is that all ! My dear fellow, that is precisely the trouble with
all the books I review. I got through * The Double Parricide '
last week. It contained five hundred pages, and there was no-
thing of it, I assure you, especially after I had done with it !"
" My novel is nothing like * The Double Parricide,' Mr. Yampyre.
It is a very sensible story, and the only serious defect is want of
bulk. It won't make enough pages of print !"
"Well, why can't you keep'on writing until you get it long
enough f
" Because it is finished. How can I 'keep on ' when my charac-
ters are all dead or married, which is about as bad f One can't
keep up interest beyond the denouement."
" I suppose not," said Mr. Yampyre, reflectively. " How many
words have you ?"
" Seventy-five thousand."
" Great Methuselah ! How many do you lack ?"
" Seventy -five thousand."
Mr. Yampyre whistled softly, and meditated. He is a man of
unlimited expedients, and I knew I should get some practical sug-
gestion from him if I waited. His life was spent among books,
and he would certainly know what was best to be done. He
opened a drawer in his desk, got out two cigars and a match. We
smoked five or ten minutes, while he looked over the pages of my
manuscript. At last he closed the portfolio with a sigh of relief.
" Will you leave this bundle of stuff with me until to-morrow F
EUREKA ! 31
Certainly."
u Well, come up again to-morrow. I have an idea ! In fact I
have two ideas. But I must get through this proof now for to-
morrow's paper. Keep a good heart. I see the way out of your
trouble !"
CHAPTER YII.
EUREKA !
THE misgivings that had preyed upon my mind in the interval
between my two interviews with my friend Yampyre were all
dispelled by his cheerful greeting on the second morning. He was
seated at his desk. There was in his tout ensemble that air of con-
scious power belonging to men weighing two hundred pounds
avoirdupois and adorned with a big beard. He had an enormous
roll of manuscript before him from which he appeared to be mak-
ing selections, as he was busily taking a pile of sheets from the
general mass and smoothing them out in a separate parcel.
" Now, my friend," he began, " sit down here, and heed my major
proposition. If I understood you yesterday, your trouble is want
of bulk?"
" Yes, that is the main difficulty."
il You have no doubt about the quality of the stuff you have
scratched down here in these hundred and fifty-six pages ? By-
the-bye, you write an atrocious hand ! Do you know that the
printers get paid by the quantity of matter they set up ? Well,
every minute that you compel a printer to waste in deciphering
your abominable hieroglyphics is so much of a fraud. There is no
excuse for it in your case, because your manuscript is really legible
in spots !"
U I did my best, Yampyre. The Blazer printers used to say my
copy Avas good."
" They lied, then. But to my question. Does the matter suit
you, as far as it goes P
" Yes. Yery good judges have complimented "
u Pooh ! Don't be misled by praises. Wait until I get my knife
at work on you ! I have made a memorandum of a dozen passages
I intend to skin when it gets to piint ! Ha ! ha ! Listen to this :
32 EARWOOD.
<As the red gleam of the lightning illuminated the plain Lord
Fitzgerald spurred his steed in his mad career. He held the bridle
in his teeth, and with petronel in one hand and sword in the
other ' "
" What in the world are you reading, Yampyre V 9 said I, aghast,
" there is no such passage as that in my book !"
"Not yet, my boy, but there will be! Now just lay aside your
vanity and listen to what I propose. This manuscript," and he
laid his hand impressively upon the roll, "was sent to me by a
schoolmate of mine. Poor Tom ! he was always a little shaky in
his upper story, and now all of his lunacy has been collected in
this mass of precious stuff! He writes me to ' read it, and to do
what I please with it.' Well, now I can serve two friends at once.
You can take as many pages of this as you need, and incorporate
them in your immortal work what d'ye call it ? Oh ! yes "Har-
wood." You can change the names, you know, and as many sheets
as you take will reduce the lot that I have to burn ! For my
friendship for Tom demands the bonfire! Just think of it! six
hundred and odd pages, of five hundred words each ! and all of it
very similar to the passage I read to you. I ask you, on your con-
science, can I do less than burn them F
"All, except what you have selected for me," I answered, with
suppressed rage. " You think I can make up the required bulk
with such matter as you read F
" Exactly ! I have picked out the most stirring passages, and
I think you might send Tom a cheque for a moderate sum if you
use his stuff. Don't say anything uncomplimentary though, for he
is as short tempered as the Double Parricide man. But I have not
told you about him F
"No."
" Well, you ought to know the story. Probably you can utilize
that also. He came up here two hours ago, and Was completely
out of breath when he came in. I gave him the chair you occupy,
and he sat there and fanned himself with his hat about fifteen
minutes/while his lungs resumed their normal action. He is a lit-
tle fellow, about your size, though scarcely so heavy, but as plucky
as a dog."
" Are you Mr. Vampyre F he said at length.
" At your service, sir."
" Did you write the review of the ' Double Parricide ' in last
week's Blazer ?"
EUREKA f 33
" I did, sir."
" Well, sir," lie said, rising, and stretching himself out as long
as he could. " I ain the author of that work!"
"Ah, indeed," I answered politely, "resume your seat, sir. I
am glad to meet you."
" And I am glad to meet you, sir ! I have climbed up these in-
fernal steps of yours to tell you my opinion of you."
" Quite unnecessary, my dear sir. I dealt as lightly with your
work as possible. There were many things I intended to say
about it, but want of space forbade. For instance, the title is
absurd !"
"What do you mean, sir P
" Why no man can be a double parricide unless he is a double
fellow, like the Siamese twins. How the deuce can a fellow kill his
father twice P
" I cannot tell you what his answer was. He talks two or
three languages, and being very much excited, he went from Eng-
lish to French and from French to German, and he cursed me
roundly in all three. At last, the little whelp made a dive at me.
I think he intended to elongate my nose. I caught his arm, then
took him by the waistband and dropped him out the window."
" Yampyre ! "
" Oh, it did not hurt him much. He fell on a wheelbarrow and
knocked it into splinters. The owner of the wheelbarrow made
no allowance for the altitude from which the author had descend-
ed, but collared him incontinently, as he rose from among the frag-
ments. There was a crowd in a minute, and some policemen came
up and took them all off."
" You don't expect me to believe that, Yampyre P
" ^N"o. But I do expect your readers to believe it, if you present
it properly. But that was my second plan. What do you say to
my first P
"I have to decline. I can't make Lord Fitzgerald assimilate
with ' Harwood.' "
" Well. It would save a good lot of writing. I thought you
would probably decline, for all authors think their own produc-
tions better than any other's. You could easily mix in these scenes.
Why, Tom has a real earthquake in this selection. Listen?
<As the roar of the tempest increased, Lord Fitzgerald was startled
to feel the solid rock, upon which he stood, vibrating in the throes
of an earthquake ' "
3
34 HARWOOD.
" My dear Vampyre, such a shocking affair would knock the life
out of i Harwood F I must positively decline. Let me hear your
second plan."
" It is very simple. How many people have seen your manu-
script I I infer that you have been the round of the publishers,
or you would not have discovered your attenuated condition."
In answer to this question, I told Mr. Vampyre all that I have
told the reader in the first five chapters. When my narrative
was finished, Mr. Vampyre, who seemed to enjoy the story amaz-
ingly, clapped me on the back triumphantly.
" Go in and win, my boy ! Write down all you have told me,
word for word, and let it be the introduction to Harwood. You
will accomplish two or three things at once.
" First, you will get that muck matter in addition, and make
your bulk sufficient. Second, you will hide the objectionable jour-
nalistic form, which your readers will know nothing about until
they have gotten so far into your story that they will have to go
on. And third, you will be giving the public some true matter to
leaven the lump of fiction you have written."
" Shall I include my interviews with you ?"
" By all means. If you put in the Double Parricide and tell about
the wheelbarrow catastrophe } you had better say my sanctum
is on the tenth floor !"
" That wheelbarrow story is a little too strong, Vampyre, to
mingle with my more modest fiction."
" See there now !" answered Vampyre, " the wheelbarrow story is
founded on fact. I actually knew a Hibernian labourer to fall from
a scaffolding as high as this window, and to escape with a few
bruises. He fell on a wheelbarrow, which was totally wrecked.
I am not like you fellows, who weave impossible plots. There is
an air of vraisemblance about my yarns which you won't find in
your hundred and fifty-six pages."
" Did you read any of my manuscript P
" Ye-es ! Oh, certainly !"
" How much ? Tell the truth."
" Well, my boy, I read the title, and then turned over until I
came to the end of the journal "
" Which is the end of the book !"
" Exactly. I read the last page, every word. You'll do !" he
continued, encouragingly. " I was greatly pleased with the con-
clusion !"
EUREKA !
35
The more I reflected upon Yampyre's plan the more it pleased
me. I could not make matter to stick about in odd places. The
story was told, and I feared to mar its fair proportions. In my
young days, I remember that great statesmen in legislative halls
were sometimes put up to speak " against time." I, imitating
their worthy example, have been writing against space.
Oh, injured reader, I have thus led thee along through the
foregoing pages, pretending to have an entertaining story to re-
late, when I was all the time slyly countings-he new pages, and
rejoicing in the prospect of so much added bulk. No longer will
I pursue these devious ways. I am sick of the constructive deceit 1
I have been practicing, the more especially as the end is accom-
plished which I had in view when I began it. Accept my repent-
ance, gentle reader, and begin the real story on the next page, with
unruffled composure. Sincerely do I hope that thou wilt enjoy
the reading as much as I have enjoyed the writing.
AUTHOR AND PUBLISHER.
I
36 EAEWOOD.
CHAPTEE Yin.
HERBERT'S JOURNAL.
FIRST IMPRESSIONS.
BATON BOUGE, LOUISIANA, May 1, 1836.
PBOMISED my dear Mother that I would keep a journal regu-
larly and systematically j and though I have allowed a week to
slip away since I arrived here, it is not too late to begin. I hardly
know what to set down for my " first impressions " of Louisiana
life and manners ; but I want this diary to be as true and faithful
a transcript of my real feelings, and as literal a history of my
sayings and doings, as I can make it. As it will always be in my
power to destroy the record, I need not hesitate about writing
with perfect freedom. I may remark one thing at the beginning,
which is, that one week's sojourn here has sufficed to make a man
of me. I can imagine myself twenty-nine instead of nineteen. As
to-morrow will be Sunday, I will have more time and a better
opportunity for journalizing, and will therefore postpone the regu-
lar beginning of my short story until then.
SUNDAY, May 2, 1836.
Just a month ago that is, on the first of April I was at work
at my desk in the counting-room of Jalap & Julap, whole-
sale Druggists, of Baltimore. I had had a small fight with Mr.
Julap, the junior partner, who pretended to know more about
book-keeping than I did, and who consequently undertook to cor-
rect some entries I had made. It is worth while to notice here that
the quarrel began by Mr. Julap's translation of a French label; or,
rather, of a French phrase on an English label. It was on a bottle
of English perfumery, and was the well known motto on the English
Arms : "Honi soit qui mat y pense." I had remarked that the first
word ought to be written " Honni," when Mr. Julap replied that
" Tumi was the French for honey, and there was honey in the perfume-
ry, no doubt." I was silly enough to endeavour to set him right, be-
fore two or three grinning clerks, and then he fell to abusing me for
bad book keeping, because I had proved him guilty of bad French.
He knew about as much of one as of the other, so of course he
made an ass of himself. Mr. Jalap was in New York, so he was
fuller of authority than usual, and I could not forget that I was
HERBERT'S JOURNAL. 37
always above him at sehool, though he was six years my senior.
The quarrel would have become serious if we had not been inter-
rupted by the entrance of a stranger, and I resumed my work, in-
tending to renew the contest at the earliest opportunity. The
new comer announced himself as Mr. Bayard, of Louisiana, and
I soon became deeply interested in him and in his discourse. He
had that free, off-hand manner for which Western and Southern
men are distinguished, and he came from a State that has always
figured in my dreams as El Dorado.
" I am looking,' 7 said he, after a pause in the conversation, "for
a young man who understands book-keeping, and who has some
knowledge of drugs and chemicals, to take charge of a store I am
about to open in Baton Rouge. Can you, sir, assist me in the
search P
Before Mr. Julap had time to reply I had slid down from my
stool, and, approaching the stranger, stammered out, " I will go
with you, sir !"
"And who are you P he asked, half surprised and half amused.
" Herbert Harwood, sir."
" And what does this gentleman say P glancing at Mr. Julap.
" Oh, he has my consent, sir," replied Julap with a sneer, " and
I can safely say that he knows more about drugs and books than
he does about French."
" The French will come in good time," said Mr. Bayard, rising
and taking his hat, " come to Barnum's Hotel at six this after-
noon, youngster, and we will arrange about terms. I like your
looks, and foresee that we shall get along famously. Good-bye."
He shook hands with me with a kindly smile, nodded to Mr.
Julap, and left.
That is about all the story. Of course there was a fuss at
home, and of course Mother and the girls cried, and I got a little
spoony myself ; but here I am in Baton Eouge, and as happy as
a lark.
GARRVILLE, LA., Sunday, May 9, 1836.
I am not altogether certain that it is proper, or in accordance
with my Presbyterian training, for me to devote Sabbath days to
this work of journalizing. Hereafter I will find some other time,
for Mother's sake ; for I know she would not approve of a work
which is neither of mercy nor necessity. But I am just now so
full of an adventure which I had to-day that I must write it
down to-night. In the first place, we, that is, Mr. Bayard and I,
38 HAEWOOD.
have moved to the town of Carrville, twenty miles lower down the
river than Baton Kouge, and he intends to open his store here.
Our goods are coming round by sea from Baltimore to New
Orleans, and they will not be at the latter city for two or three
weeks, and in the meantime we have little to do, except fixing
shelves and counters. Mr. Bayard brought me here last Monday,
and left the same day for New Orleans. I expect him back to-
morrow. We came in the steamboat " Firefly," which is the regu-
lar packet plying between Baton Kouge and the city. The " Fire-
fly" is owned and commanded by a queer old Frenchman named
Captain Joli. I shall have some funny stories to tell about him,
if we meet often. For example: I was very much hurried on
Monday, and wishing to know exactly how much time I had, I
ran down to the landing early in the morning, and asked Captain
Joli at what hour his boat started I His reply was
" Ten o'clock, sare, precise ! You not here a quarter before ten,
you be lef ', begar !"
The "Firefly" usually arrived from Baton Eouge a little before
noon, and when there is a shipment of cotton on our landing the
boat remains at Carrville several hours. This was the cape the
other day, and Captain Joli, leaving the loading in charge of his
subordinates, spent an hour or so with me. He found me poring
over "La Yie de Washington," and overheard some of my
attempts at French pronunciation, which seemed to disgust him
considerably.
" Pardon, Monsieur Hubbard," said he, " vil you pleese say
twenty-eight in French *P
" Vingt-huit."
" C 7 est bon ! Now say < huit* by himself. 77
" Ungweet F I answered, honestly striving to imitate him.
" Mille tonnerres ! I did not tell you to gront like one peeg!
Unit!"
u Huit /"
u Ah, that is better. It is ver 7 strange you not talk good French,
ven you read him so well. Many peoples speak good French here.
S'pose you talk much French every day with Monsieur Carr ? I
will give you lesson, too. Dis time, I give jonhuitj oui, dixliuit!
You mus 7 not say i icee, J but oui. Do you observe ze difference f 7
" Yes, sir. You are very kind, Captain, and I will strive to
profit by your lessons "
" Ah, you have ze small sword also ! Come out in ze yard, and
BERBER TS JO URNAL. 39
I shall give you another lesson. Bah f we do not want ze mask.
I shall not scratch your face."
" But I may scratch yours, Captain."
" I will take ze risque. Allons !"
I took down the foils, and we walked out into the little enclosure
behind the store. There is a large China tree here, and under its
shade the gallant Captain gave me my lesson. I have been a
pretty good fencer for several years, and was a favourite pupil ot
our old Baltimore instructor. But he was an Italian, and there-
fore did not take to sword play as a Frenchman does. Captain
Joli put me through the ordinary exercise, correcting slight inac-
curacies here and there, and politely complimenting me upon my
skill.
" Now, mon ami," quoth the Captain, who began to be fond of
me, " regardez ! You straddle your long legs too much. Yen I
call fendez-vous ! you stretch about five feet. You must always
keep your legs under you, and be ready for retreat. Now strike
my breast, en carte."
I gave him the thrust in straight carte. He did not oppose his
blade, but simply drew his body back. My foil did not reach him
by several inches. He then reversed the proposition, and I
avoided his thrust in the same manner. This was a grand attain-
ment. He then put me carefully through the parades of prime,
seconde and octave, and made me expert in the serai-circular parry.
We resumed our coats, walked into the store, and while we blew
a double cloud of fragrant smoke, the Captain finished his lesson
verbally.
" You cannot tell, mon ami, when you may be required to do
sword play in earnest."
" Do you mean in a duel, Captain ?"
u Yes ; all gentlemen have to fight some time."
" I shall never fight a duel, Captain," I answered, positively.
" Che sard, sard /" responded the Captain, sententiously. I
started as he uttered the proverb.
" Where did you learn that, sir !" said I, in astonishment.
" Ah, that is a villanous motto of a villanous race. It means,
* What will be, will be/ and was ze proverb of ze Medicis. I do
not know why I repeated it just now."
" It is also the motto of a better race than the Medici," I replied.
" It is blank fatalism!" quoth the Captain, " and it is not true."
" I understand it to mean the same thing as an article of my
40 EAEWOOD.
creed, sir," I answered, after a pause, " namely : 'God liath, from
all eternity, foreordained whatsoever coineth to pass.' "
" Ver' bad philosophy !" replied Captain Joli. " But to return to
ze sword play. Ze sword has always been ze weapon of a gentle-
man, and always will be. To be master of it there are only two
or three principles to learn, and ze rest is mere practice. First:
you must look into your adversary's eyes, and learn to detect each
change of parade wizout seeing his blade. Second : you must feel
his weapon wiz yours, all ze same as if you felt wiz your hand-
Third : you must be content wiz enough defence to deflect his
blade from your body. One inch from your person is just as good
as two yards. If you Tmow you are covered, you fight wiz assur-
ance. And if you observe my rules, and practice patiently, you
will become nearly invulnerable."
" Suppose two men meet, Captain, who are equally skilful if
your theory is true, neither will gain an advantage."
" Ah ! that is not a supposable case. But if it were, one man
would get excited, and poof ! ze other plug him !" The Captain
reflected a few minutes, and continued, " I have had four expe-
rience ze first time I got a coup in my arm ; it hurt like ze diable !"
" And the other times, Captain f
" Eh, bien ! I am here !" The Captain rose and took his hat.
" Au revoir, Monsieur ! Ze next time we meet we shall confine our-
selves to prime and seconded
When the boat arrived at this place the other day, Mr. Bayard
handed me over to a strange gentleman, who was the only other
passenger for Carrville, saying he would go on to the " City" (as
everybody calls New Orleans), and return in about a week. The
stranger was Mr. Charles Carr. I will try to describe him when I
have more time. As the a Firefly" pushed off from the landing Mr.
Bayard called out, " Good bye, Herbert ; take care of yourself!"
He has always called me by my Christian name (which he pro-
nounces " Hubbard"), and as Carr and I walked up from the river,
he once or twice addressed me as " Mr. Hubbard." I remember
that now, though I did not notice it particularly at the time.
When we reached the hotel, Mr. Carr walked up to the desk in
the bar-room, and entered my name on the register as " Mr. Hub-
bard, of Baton Kouge." I was so shy and foolish that I did not
correct the mistake, and I am ashamed to add, that I have not
corrected it up to this hour. I have been introduced to fifty peo-
ple as Mr. Hubbard, and I really feel like crying when I think
HERBERTS JOURNAL. 41
how horridly stupid I will look when the truth comes out. Of
course, I cannot make everybody understand the case as I under-
stand it. It was awkward to say to the first stranger, " my name
is Harwood not Hubbard ;" because it looked as though I thought
myself of so much importance ; and every time the introductions
took place the difficulty increased. I have not even told Carr, who
is a first rate fellow, and who would appreciate my peculiar diffi-
culty if I were to tell him just how I feel about the affair. I have
concluded to leave the whole matter in the hands of Providence,
and don't intend to let it annoy me any longer, if I can help it.
Mr. Bayard will be able to work me out of the mess when he
comes back.
But all this is not the story I sat down to tell ; and I will scratch
that down now in as few words as possible, for it is getting late,
and I am tired to death and want to go to bed. * Well, all last
week I was overlooking the men who were fixing up the shelves
in the store, directing them as to the width and height, &c., and
very lazy work it has been. Every day Charley Carr would ride
into town (he lives about two miles off), and spend two or three
hours with me, sometimes fencing, sometimes teaching me some
new steps in dancing, and sometimes helping me in my French.
He fences like some Frenchman I have read about, who could
make his sword do everything but talk. I never saw anything
like it, and I would give five dollars to see him encounter
my old conceited Italian teacher, Mazzi, who used to put on so
many airs with us boys, when he twitched our foils out of our
hands. Well, well, well ! I shall never get to the adventure ; I
will tell it right straight, without any more circumlocution. Yes-
terday Carr said :
" Hubbard, will you join a small lot of us fellows in a deer hunt
to-morrow ?"
" To-morrow will be Sunday," I replied.
" I know that," said Carr, " and as you will not have any men
at work here, I thought you could get off on that day."
" But I have no horse," I answered, " and no gun 5 and besides I
don't like "
a Come, come, sir, you shall have Eet's mare. She is a little
skittish, and will be all the better after a good gallop ; I don't
believe we shall find any deer, though, as the season is so late;
but we shall have a pleasant time, and you will see something of
the country back of the river. I will send a boy in with the
42 HAEWOOD.
mare early in the morning, and you can stop at our house on
your way to the meeting place, and get Herbert's gun and ac-
coutrements. I will have all ready for you."
Who was Eet ? and who was Herbert ?
As Carr mounted his horse, half an hour later, he turned to me,
with a kind smile in his great blue eyes, and said,
" Maybe you don't like to spend Sunday in mere amusement ;
if your conscience is against the frolic T won't urge you to violate
your principles."
"If you may do it why should not IT" 1
" Oh, I am a free thinker," he replied, half sadly and half con-
temptuously.
I was a little provoked as I noticed the shadow of a sneer in
his voice and manner, and I, therefore, made no reply. He
rode off without further remark, taking it for granted that I
intended to go, though I had almost decided that I should not.
With my customary tardiness I had allowed him to fall into the
mistake, intending to write an excuse and apology this morning
when the boy brought the horse.
When I got up this morning I looked out of my window and
saw a negro leading a beautiful black mare up and down the
street before the door. The mare was curveting and capering
about at a great rate, and the man evidently had his hands full.
I recognized Carr's servant, Jacobus, who had once or twice
brought me messages from his master, and as I watched the gam.
bols of the spirited animal he had in charge, all my good resolu-
tions vanished, giving place to an uncontrollable desire to bestride
the magnificent beast. I dressed hastily ? and opening the win-
dow, called the negro to the sidewalk.
" Have you been here long, Jacobus ?"
" Jist come, Mars'r. Jist hitch my hoss yonder, and was gwine
to knock at your door, only dis black varmint would not be
quiet. Gosh ! Mars'r, she'll take you in a gust dis day !"
" Did Mr. Carr send any message ?" I asked.
" Got um note here, sar," replied Jacobus, pulling his hat off,
and taking the missive out of the lining. I believe negroes carry
everything in their hats. I descended to the street, and taking
the note read as follows :
" DEAR H. We are to start from Maltby's house, where we
are to get breakfast. Jacobus will guide you. Don't ride with
spurs the mare is very excitable to-day. Yours, C. C."
HERBERTS JOURNAL. 43
I had pulled on a pair of riding boots, with spurs screwed into
the heels, and as I could not easily get them out, I mentally
promised to keep my heels away from the mare's sides, and
mounted. Jacobus noticed the spurs as he held the stirrup, and
exclaimed :
" Gosh ! Mars'r Hubbard, if you tetch Midnight wid one of dem
squrs she'll jump clean outen her hide !"
" I can't get the spurs out of my boots, Jake,' 7 I replied, "but I
will take care she does not feel them."
" Werry well, Mars'r you best not. You see, sah, Midnight is
lady's hoss, and ain't 'quainted wid squrs. Mars'r Herbert rode
her once, and jist let his squr tetch her, and she flung him clean
over her head. Him not easy flung neither."
" Is Mr. Herbert Mr. Charley's brother F I asked with some
curiosity.
u No, sar," answered Jacobus, u Mars'r Herbert is Miss Eet's
brudder."
u And who is Miss Ret, Jake P
" Him Mars'r Herbert's sister, sar !" replied Jake, innocently,
and with the air of a man who was giving valuable information.
We rode on in silence for a mile or more. I was not willing to
question the negro too closely concerning family matters, though
I was burning with curiosity to know who these new comers on
the scene could be. I have seen the elder Mr. Carr once or twice,
and am inclined to think that I should admire him very much if
I knew him better. He must have resembled his son when he
was at his age, though there is a great dissimilarity in their ap-
pearance now. Mr. Carr is a grey, grave, old looking man, won-
derfully courteous and affable, though seemingly habitually mel-
ancholy. I remember that he expressed a great deal of interest
in me, when Charley introduced me to him, and that he said
something about the beauty of Baltimore, my native city. I sup-
pose he really cared very little about me or my birthplace, and I
have credited his apparent interest to his natural politeness. It is
a great thing, certainly, to be born a gentleman, and Mr. Carr and
I have both had this good fortune.
As Jake and I rode on I noticed the sweet odours of the coun-
try much more apparent as we got further from the river. My
walks have hitherto been confined to the bank of the majestic
stream upon whose broad bosom I have travelled for so many
hundreds of miles. Compared with the rivers of my own State,
44 HARWOOD.
the Mississippi is very dull and uninteresting in appearance. Its
waters seem always muddy, and its margins are so low and mono-
tonous. But one cannot see the steamers passing each hour of
the day, and hear the bark of their high pressure engines all
through the night, without getting a large conception of the mag-
nificence of this great highway. About two miles from Carrville
our horses stopped to drink in the middle of a sparkling little
creek, which seemed more charming to me from its contrast to
the yellow river I saw every day, and I promised myself the
pleasure of many a walk hereafter to so beautiful a locality. My
sable guide informed me that this creek was called " Manahio."
This is the name of Mr. Carr's estate, and I presume this little
rivulet is the one of which I have heard my friend speak. The
name is Indian, and signifies " Blight Water." Carr told me that
the streamlet separated his father's lands from another estate,
whose name he did not mention, and we have projected a fishing
excursion to some of the deep pools of the Manahio, to come off in
June or July.
The valley through which the creek flows appeared to me like
some dream of fairyland. I have never seen, in my own colder
home, anything like the abundant and gorgeous vegetation of
these southern forests. As we rode up the hill, rising abruptly
from the Avater, I checked my horse for a moment to admire the
scene. I shall not try to describe it at least, not now. I will
only say th^t I thought of Buckingham's curse " marriage and
a life in the country " and concluded that the curse might fall
upon me, and that it would rest full lightly if I might select this
spot for my home and be allowed some small space to seek for my
" partner in distress." Just at the ford there are three enormous
laurels (Magnolia GrandifloraJ, their trunks half hidden by the
undergrowth, there being no other tall trees in their immediate
vicinity. Jacobus had pulled up his horse behind me, and observ-
ing my admiration of the scene, he pointed to the magnolias and
said
" Dem is de haunted laurels, sar 1 "
" Haunted !" I exclaimed.
" 'Deed dey is, sar ; plenty of people done seen de ghossesses*
Mars'r seed 'em one time. Him nebber ride 'long dis road at
night !"
" What kind of ghossesses are they, Jake ?" I asked.
"Well, sar," answered the African, edging his horse a little
THE HA UN TED * LA UBELS. 45
nearer to mine " it am purty long story, but we got two mile
good yet to git to Mars'r Maltby's and ef you like to hear
him, Pll try to tell him."
But I am not going to repeat Jake's story to-night two o'clock,
by Jupiter ! Ill go to bed now, and try to finish this interminable
yarn to-morrow. And in order to make the narrative as coherent
as possible, I will begin with the wild legend, which, I am ashamed
to say, makes me feel extremely uncomfortable whenever I think
about it. So I will try to think about home till I fall asleep, and,
maybe, I can dream about Mother.
I
CHAPTER IX.
THE HAUNTED LAURELS.
MONDAY, May 10, 1836.
FEEL like a stewed witch this evening, and no wonder. All day
I have been harassed by the workmen who are fitting shelves and
drawers in the adjoining room, and who were perpetually wanting
instructions, and Carr has been here, and I have promised to go
with him to Manahio to-morrow night, to return on Wednesday
morning after breakfast. I must record yesterday's adventure,
while it is fresh in my mind ; and I have provided myself with
two candles, and mean to write while I can keep awake so here
goes ! Jake's story is the first thing in order, and may be entitled
" The Haunted Laurels."
Five years ago Mr. Carr was parish judge, and his neighbour,
Mr. John (the negro called him "Mars'r John" all
through his tale, and I forgot to ask his name), was State's attor-
ney for this parish. At that time there was an unusual degree
of excitement throughout all the eastern parishes of Louisiana,
caused by the persistent efforts of a handful of Abolitionists to
induce slaves to abscond, and it was said, also, to incite an insur-
rection. Yery vigorous measures were adopted, some of which
were extra legal, and five or six men were arrested, tried and
hung most of them under the authority of Judge Lynch. Among
these victims there were two men, father and son, who were ar-
rested under suspicious circumstances, at a plantation in the
neighbourhood. They were strangers, and no white man could be
46 HARWOOD.
found, between the date of their arrest and day of their death,
who had ever seen them before. I could not get from Jacobus
any very coherent account of the trial of these Densons, or of the
testimony upon which they were condemned. Letters were found
upon their persons, written by a noted Abolitionist who was tried
at Baton Eouge the same year, and who is now in the State pen-
itentiary, sentenced to imprisonment for life. This man, Sumner,
who was, perhaps, the most guilty, who openly avowed his senti-
ments in the court room, was the only one who had a regular trial,
and the only one that escaped the halter. His offence, however
atrocious in intention and tendency, was one exactly provided
for in the law of the State, and the penalty was life imprisonment
at hard labour. There is little doubt, however, that he would have
shared the fate of his accomplices, if he had been tried under
Lynch law.
The Densons were chained to one of the three laurels on the
bank of the Manahio, near the high road, that they might be
visible to all passers by, whose recognition of them might avert
an impending doom. Two or three dozen young planters from
the neighbourhood, armed to the teeth, kept constant guard over
them, and precluded the possibility of escape or rescue. At the
trial, held at the slme spot, each planter present was a judge and
juryman, and the prisoners were allowed to defend themselves.
Their defence amounted to little more than a plea of not guilty,
and they constantly demanded a regular trial before a constituted
court, affirming their ability to prove their innocence, if suffi-
cient time were allowed them. At the end of the week they were
both hanged on one of the trees of the haunted group. Before
the stern sentence was executed the elder Denson made a special
appeal to Judge Carr and the State's attorney, as representa-
tives of the law. He might as well have appealed to a couple
of tigers. The legend affirms that Denson then predicted the
violent death of these two gentlemen, upon the same spot, within
some definite period, and promised that both he and his son
would haunt the grove until this dire prophecy was fulfilled.
One morning, within the year, the body of the prosecuting at-
torney was found at the foot of the gallows tree, dead from a
pistol shot in the head. His own jjistol was clutched in his hand,
and the current belief, at least amongst the superstitious negroes,
was that he had shot himself. Jacobus represents this gentle-
man "Mars'r John" as a man of extraordinary courage and
THE HAUNTED LAURELS. 47
prowess. I recollect his exact expression at this part of the
story. "Mars'r John," he said, < ; wor not 'feard of two hundred
debbles and ghossesses all at once ; and ef he had fair chance in
the daylight, he could make ghos 7 and debble bofe run." All that
was known about his death was, that he had left Carrville near
midnight for his home. His horse was found in the early morn-
ing near his house, and a fragment of his bridle lying near his
master's body, which was discovered in the bushes, by tracking
the footmarks of the aniinai back to the haunted laurels. At
this portion of the narrative Jacobus was visibly affected, and I
fancied that I could detect a strange mixture of grief and horror
in his tones. He spoke of the deceased gentleman with evident
affection, and I thought he regarded his mysterious death as a
kind of swindle on the part of the " ghossesses." He said, for in-
stance : " Mars'r John didn't hab no fair shake wid dem. Dey
was 'feard to fight him out in de open road, whar de moon was
shinen ; so dey tolled him inter dem bushes, and dar dey busted
his big heart, and made him kill hisself !" There was something
about the weird manner of the negro that made me feel very un-
comfortable, in spite of my consciousness that the whole story was
susceptible of a matter of fact solution if one could only get at
the clue.
So far as Mr. Carr is concerned, the prophecy has as yet found
no fulfilment. The narrator did not say much upon this branch
of the subject. It seems that he resigned his office shortly after
the execution of the Deusous. That he has seen something un-
canny at the haunted laurels Jake does not doubt, but he asserts
most positively that he avoids this road in his journeys to and
from townj crossing the stream at another ford, a mile higher up.
He concluded his story just as we reached Mr. Maltby's, begging
me to say nothing to "ole Mars'r or Mars'r Charley" about the
haunted laurels. " Ef you ebber git chance, sar," he said, as he
held the gate open for my entrance into Mr. Maltby's grounds,
" and ef you want to know more 'bout dis story, you might ax
Miss Eet kase she jis like her fader, and not 'feard ob de debble
hisself!"
A dozen questions rushed to my tongue, but Mr. Maltby's ap-
pearance and cordial salutation prevented the utterance of any of
them. There ! I am heartily glad that I have gotten rid of that
horrid legend for the present.
I wonder what Mr. Maltby. and so inanv of his guests as were
48 HARWOOD.
near me, thought of my trencher powers yesterday morning I
The ride had increased an appetite that was vigorous enough
before, and the coffee was the first Mocha that I had tasted since
I left my dear Mother's table. And to cap the climax, there was
genuine wheat bread in abundance, which is a rarity in this fair
land. Mrs. Maltby said, as we rose from the table, " You have
found the way to Highlands, Mr. Hubbard, and I hope we shall
see you very often hereafter." To which Mr. Maltby added,
" Yes, come out every day that you can get off, Hubbard." These
Louisiana people are very kind and hospitable.
Carr handed me a gun and accoutrements as I remounted Mid-
night, and renewed his cautions against the use of spurs. I ex-
pressed some surprise at the selection of so fiery a beast for a
lady's horse, especially as her trot was none of the smoothest.
" Why, that black rascal has put a curb bit in her mouth," said
Carr ; " here, Jake ! take off that bridle and martingale, and put
mine on the mare. She travels better with a snaffle, Hubbard,
and you will find her gait pleasant enough. How came you to
put the curb on the filly, Jake F
"Golly! Mars'r Charley," answered the negro, with a grin,
"how I gwine to know that Mars'r Hubbard kin ride like de
witches ? She done flung Mars'r Herbert todder day !"
".Keep your eye oil her, Hubbard," shouted Carr, as the mare
glided ahead $ " she is safe enough till she feels the spur."
I have gotten another object to be attained, namely the posses-
sion of that mare. I do not know whether money will buy her,
and I am not overburdened with that particular article, if it
would. But I mean to own that mare some of these days ! Her
gait is indescribable. To me, who have been accustomed to trot-
ting horses all my life, it was altogether new. She appeared to
"devour the distance" with a motion so light and easy as scarcely
to move me in the saddle. These Southerners, who consult their
ease on all occasions, think more of a horse trained to " pace "
than of the fatest trotters 5 and Midnight has been so carefully
instructed that I must consider her matchless. But I am getting
along very slowly with my story.
Mr. Maltby stationed me in a glade of the forest, a mile or so
from his house, directing me to watch for the deer whenever I
heard the cry of the hounds. " You can either dismount," he said
at parting, " and fasten your horse to a swinging branch, or you
can shoot from the saddle if you get a shot. The mare will stand
THE HAUNTED LAURELS. 49
fire." So saying he plunged into the woods, winding his horn, and
followed by all the yelping hounds. The other gentlemen of the
party galloped off, to take " stands," as they call these openings
in the woods, similar to mine, and in a few minutes I had lost
sight and sound of them all. And now I am at the beginning oi
my adventure, at last. While I sit here in quiet, hearing no sound
but the scratching of my pen over the paper, I feel my heart beat-
ing more rapidly and my body quivering with excitement as the
memories of the few events I have to record come thronging back
upon me.
After Mr. Maltby disappeared I fastened the mare to a sapling
and started in search of water. I had smoked a heavy cigar after
breakfast, and my throat was dry and parched. I soon found a
tiny rill issuing from the bushes, and thinking the draught would
be cooler and purer if I could find its source, I threw my gun into
the hollow of my arm, and pushing aside the undergrowth, I
splashed my way through, walking in the bed of the rill. As I
advanced, the passage grew more and more difficult, and I should
have given up the attempt, but for a lamentable obstinacy of dis-
position, which always makes me persist more resolutely in an
undertaking when obstacles thicken around me. My dear, par-
tial Mother speaks of this trait as " one of my few failings." I
went on, therefore, getting my gun entangled in the overhanging
vines, getting stung in thorny bushes, and growing more thirsty,
arid more determined to find the spring, till I had probably got
two or three hundred yards from my horse. At last I emerged
into au u open" of small circumference, and saw the spring, the
water bubbling over a bed of pure white sand, and looking de-
liciously cool and tempting. I kneeled down, and plunging my
face in the water, I took the sweetest drink I ever had in my life.
As I raised my head and glanced around I discovered that I was
not alone. On the other side of the spring, half hidden by the
tree against which he was leaning, sat a man clothed in buckskins.
His back was towards me, and I could only see his left arm and
leg, and the muzzle of an old looking rifle lying across his thigh.
He sat perfectly motionless, as I watched him for some minutes
and as he must have heard my approach, I wondered why he did
not look round the tree to see who I was. I had halt a mind to
slip quietly back by the way I had come, and, rising to my feet,
with this half-formed purpose, and drawing a step back, I got a
partial view of his head, and recognized the straight black hair
4
50 HARWOOD.
and copper colored, skin of an Indian. I have so long wished to
see a real live Indian in something like his " native state," that
curiosity overcame every other feeling and I stepped round the
tree and accosted him.
a Good morning/ 7 said I, nodding to him as cordially as I could.
He raised his head when I spoke and I discovered that he was
tolerably drunk. He had a junk bottle in his hand which he held
out, offering me a drink.
"Urn!" he grunted, "white brudder come to see ole Injin!
White brudder welcome ! take drink !"
"I have just had a drink," I answered, declining the bottle and
pointing to the spring " it is better than that in your bottle."
" Spring good, whisky better! white brudder want moccasin f
Come in wigwam." He rose as he spoke, and thrusting the bottle
in the bosom of his hunting shirt, he moved away from the tree,
dragging his rifle after him.
" I don't want any moccasins that is, not to-day 5 1 must go back
to the stand now." I began to feel a little uneasy, and to remem-
ber a hundred stories I have read and heard about scalps, roasting
before a slow fire, and similar nonsense. The grisly rascal was six
feet tall, erect and vigorous, and looked as though he could make
mince meat of me in a twinkling. Drunk as he was, he walked
without staggering. He faced me again and beckoned to me to
follow him.
" Nebber mind stand," he said, "no deer to-day. Brudder have
some Injin's venison? Injin dry him himself 5 come!"
" No, I thank you, not this time ; good bye !"
" No whisky, no moccasin, no venison !" said he, angrily strik-
ing the ground with the butt of his gun " what for young brud-
der afeard F
I began to be angry myself now, as well as scared angry per-
haps because scared. I tried to look as fierce as I wished to feel.
" I am not afraid of anything," I answered ; I never drink whis-
ky. If you will bring me a pair of moccasins to town to-morrow
I will buy them,- and as for the venison well, I will taste your
venison. How far off is your wigwam F
" Here," he replied, once more stalking away from the spring.
I followed him to the edge of the opposite thicket until he arrived
at the trunk of a tree that had been prostrated by some hurricane,
as was evident from the huge mass ot roots that stood perpendic-
ularly eight or ten feet above the surface of the ground. A quan-
THE HA UNTED LA UEELS. 5 1
tity of suckers and vines with long trailing branches and tendrils,
sprang from among the upturned roots, and, hanging over the
cavity they had once occupied, formed a beautiful bower, which
shaded and concealed the rude hut beneath them. The fallen tree
had stood on a slight eminence or hillock, and the hollow which
its roots had scooped out was still a little higher than the sur-
rounding surface. The hut was formed of long strips of bark,
leaning against the base of the tree, and appeared to be water-
tight ; the edges of the bark neatly sewn together and covered in
places with pieces of deer hide. I did not enter, but as the Indian
pushed aside the rude door I saw two or three pairs of moccasins
hanging on pegs, and a bundle of skins lying in a corner. At that
instant my attention was attracted by the cry of the hounds, and
I was about to hasten back to my stand, when the Indian reap-
peared, with a piece of smoked deermeat in his hand.
61 Nebber mind stand," he said; " dog no find deer, 'spose him
find fox !" He listened intently for a moment and added, u him
come dis way."
I walked hastily along the trunk of the prostrate tree, until I
found a place low enou gh for me to clamber up, and cocking both
barrels of my gun, I looked anxiously for the appearance of the
deer or fox, whichever it might prove. The Indian followed me,
still dragging his rifle after him. I pointed in the direction of the
sounds, for the furious baying of the hounds could now be heard
distinctly, and they seemed to be approaching very rapidly.
" Plenty time," said my companion, waving his hand, " fox run
dis way, dat way. Dog lose him bimeby. S'pose he climb tree;
plenty time."
He propped his gun up against the tree, and, drawing a long
knife from his belt, proceeded to cut a strip of venison. Suddenly
there was a crash in the bushes beyond the hut, and I saw the
body of an animal glancing through them. The Indian dropped
the meat, stuck his knife into the tree, caught up his rifle and
fired. I heard a fierce growl, another crash, and again saw the
beast bounding over a bunch of tangled vines. He was not over
twenty yards distant, and I discharged one barrel at him just as
he leaped into sight. Another growl, another mighty bound, and
there he was before me, and I saw the long, striped body, and
thick tail, gliding through the grass, as he approached me. I took
good aim, and gave him the contents of the second barrel as the
hounds a dozen ot them came tearing through the bushes.
52 HAEWOOD.
They were upon him in a moment, and such a babel of growls,
barks and howls, I never heard before, and hope never to hear
again. I was watching the fight as I reloaded my gun. The In-
dian was forcing a bullet into the muzzle of his rifle, and I heard
him mutter : " Whisky too much ! hand shake ; no shoot f when
I saw Music, a favorite slut of Carr's, dash at the panther, and
retreat on the instant, bleeding and howling dismally. Without
a thought, I snatched the Indian's knife from the tree, jumped
down and plunged into the mel^e. I hardly know how it was done,
but I pushed in among the dogs, several of them badly torn, and
drove the knife into the beast's side up to the hilt. He must
have been already nearly dead, as we afterwards found that both
of my shots had taken effect the first in his flank and the other
in his shoulder. The thrust finished him, however, and, after a
convulsive jerk or two, he rolled over, dead. Just then I heard
the clatter of horses' hoofs, and Mr. Maltby and a stranger gal-
loped into the open.
CHAPTEE X.
CAPTAIN DELANEY.
strange gentleman was a man to be looked at. He
-L seemed to be about thirty -five, though I do not know if this
estimate of his age is within ten years of the truth. He had that
indescribable tout ensemble that belongs to very mature young
men. His eyes were black arid piercing, his hair black, and his
sallow face, closely shaven, showed the black roots of his thick
beard, around his chin and over his lip. He was dressed with
great nicety, in the everlasting blue cottonade unmentionables,
and a brown linen frock coat. His shirt bosom was particularly
white and smooth, and one got the idea, from a glance at the man,
that he would not rumple or soil it if he wore it a month. He
wore a black silk cravat and no collar, a broad brimmed Panama
hat and kid gloves. Altogether, he was too nice looking for the
woods. As he drew up his horss he looked steadily at me, and I
touched my hat. He returned my salutation by removing his own,
and bowing gracefully, and I observed that his hair, which was
crisp and wavy I feel inclined to write it " ~kiriky" was arranged
CAPTAIN DELANEY. 53
with care, parted as if it had been done with a rule and pair of
compasses. I thoroughly and excessively disliked him at the first
glance.
" Why, what in the world are you doing here, Hubbard?" asked
Mr. Maltby, looking with great round eyes at me and the bloody
knife in my hand.
" I believe I have been killing a panther, sir," I replied, with as
much modesty as I could muster.
" The deuce you have ! where is he ?" and he threw his long leg
over the saddlebow and slid down from his horse. " Here he is,
by jingo ! shot in two places, and stuck to boot ! It was your
gun, then, that I heard I and here is a rifle shot, right over his
ear. Somebody had a pop at him before you ; I heard the rifle,
but this only riled him. Was he coining at you ? Where did you
get that knife I Do you usually carry a toothpick of that size T
"It is the Indian's knife, sir," said I, answering one question,
out of the volley.
" What Indian P said the stranger, speaking for the first time.
I looked round to the dead tree, where I had left my hospitable
friend, but he was no longer there ; I stepped to the hut, pushed
'the door open and looked in but my " Injun brudder " had dis-
appeared.
" He is gone," said I, returning from my fruitless search ; " he
was at my side a minute ago, just as you came. I cannot imagine
what has become of him ; he was watching me when I stuck the
panther 5 I saw his head over the tree trunk yonder."
" What was he like f ' said the stranger abruptly, speaking in
a sharp, peremptory tone that was rather offensive. I thought
he was not treating me with the consideration due to a man of my
age, who had just killed a panther. I was in no hurry to answer,
therefore, and putting the caps on my gun, I walked towards Mr.
Maltby. I am nearly six feet tall, if I am young, and it is not
agreeable to be spoken to as if I vere a boy. He repeated his
question, rather more civilly, and I answered without looking
round :
" Like other Indians, I suppose. Mr. Maltby, what am I to do
next?"
" Get your horse, and we will call in the standers ; no deer to-
day, at least not in this drive. I think we had better go home, as
the dogs are pretty well used up, anyhow." He mounted his
horse, and blowing his horn, the hounds gathered around him,
54 HARWOOD.
poor Music limping painfully along and whining piteously.
"Can's bitch is badly hurt, I'm afraid ; did the beast get her
down P
"No, sir; she darted into the fight and out again like light-
ning, hurt as you see. It was then that I seized the knife and
stabbed the panther." Seeing that he listened with great interest,
I went on, telling him the story pretty much as I have recorded it
here. When I had finished, he said,
" It was a plucky thing to do, youngster, but I advise you the
next time to keep your distance. If that fellow had got a lick at
you with his paw you would not have been standing here ! The
Indian must have been old Misty ; he lives hereabouts. Where
the dickens has he gone, I wonder? drunk as usual! Well, get
your horse and come on; we'll ride slowly, and get the dogs
home."
I started through the bushes, but returning to stick the knife
back in the tree, I heard Maltby say : " His name is Hubbard a
friend of Carr's he's genuine wildcat though, ain't he f I could
not hear his companion's reply, but I heard Maltby say : " Lying !
no, no! I'll be sworn the boy told the truth." Confound that
spruce blackguard ! maybe I'll have a chance to pay him off some
of these days.
I lost myself, and lost much time in getting back to the mare,
and had to betake myself to the rivulet at last, and very nearly
retrace my steps. At last I found the stand. The mare was rest-
less, and I had considerable difficulty in mounting, encumbered as
I was with the gun. I had fastened her by unbuckling the bridle
rein, and rebuckling it round the limb of a sapling. I at last got
into the saddle, and was trying to buckle the rein, when she
stretched out her neck and twitched the bridle out of my fingers.
She was off like a shot right into the woods !
Under ordinary circumstances I could easily have regained the
rein by leaning forward in the saddle, but, as it was, I was kept
busy dodging the overhanging branches and managing my heavy
gun. Once the muzzle caught in a trailing vine, and as the gun
swung round I got a sound knock on the side of my head. I have
the mark yet. This accident confused ine somewhat, and a few
minutes later the catastrophe happened. I had presence of mind
enough to shake my feet clear of the stirrups when the mare first
bolted, and thereafter I was doing regular riding school practice
holding on with my knees. And while the sparks were still
MISTEONO. 55
flying from my eyes I saw a tree galloping up to me, and leaning
to the right to avoid it, I accidentally touched Midnight with the
spur. She swerved suddenly to the left, the tree struck me full
in the breast, and that is all I know about it.
CHAPTER XL
MISTEONO.
"II THEN I recovered my senses I found myself alone in that
VV wilderness, and felt as I suppose one feels when recover-
ing from a mighty " drunk." My watch crystal was smashed, and
my timekeeper had stopped. I picked up my gun and discharged
both barrels, hoping that some of my fellow hunters might hear
the report and come to my assistance. But the forest was per-
fectly quiet, though a moment before my fall I had heard Mr.
Maltby's horn and the yelping of the dogs that followed him.
The situation was decidedly unpleasant. There I was, as com-
pletely lost as though I had dropped down there from the clouds.
I reloaded my gun, expecting to be attacked by three or four pan-
thers at once, though Oarr has since told me that they are very
rare birds in this latitude. I walked about, gradually growing
more accustomed to the peculiar position of affairs, and gradually
perceiving how serious the accident really was. The most important
fact was that I was lost. I could not even identify the tree that
had brushed me so nicely from the saddle. I only knew that it
was a beech, for I remembered the white spots on the bark. And
I counted five or six beeches, all near enough to me, and each
looking exactly like all the rest. When I first staggered up I
moved about, dizzy and confused, and I don't know how far I had
walked from the spot I had occupied between my fall and awaken-
ing before I thought of finding my way out of the woods. And
then, even if I knew the way, the walk was tolerably long, as I
was hurt, and wanted sleep more than anything else. I tried to
whistle, but failed ; I tried to hum a tune, but broke down with
something like a sob. I concluded that the adventure was per-
haps a little romantic, but also decidedly disgusting.
At length I sat down at the root of one of the beeches and
5G HARWOOD.
endeavoured to collect my energies. I wondered what Miss Eet
was like, and what she would think of the loss of her inare ; and
then I wondered if I should ever see either mare or mistress.
I wondered what Carr would think of my manhood. I wondered
whether Miss Eet was an old maid of forty or a young damsel of
fourteen. She could not be very young, or she could not manage
that she-devil of a mare ; probably twenty-five. If so, she would
think that boys ought not to be trusted with valuable horses.
Then I wondered why Carr had not talked to me about her. Was
she his cousin or aunt I He called her " Ret," so she could not
be his aunt. What did " Eet" stand for ? It was very queer if
it was her real name. And she had a brother, named Herbert ;
man enough to own a gun and to ride Midnight. Thank fortune
Midnight had thrown him before I ever saw her. I wondered
what Mother would think if she knew how I was amusing myself
at that particular moment. And then I remembered her ideas of
the Sabbath, and how I had violated my own convictions when I
started on the hunt. And then I vowed, from the very depths of
my heart, that I would never misspend the day again. Then I
began to wonder whether I should live to see any more bright
Sabbaths dawn upon the beautiful earth. I suppose my breast,
which is bruised and still sore, hurt me, for I groaned.
" Young chief lose boss ? nebber mind, Injin find him."
I started to my feet, and, turning around, saw my Indian ac-
quaintance standing near me. He was leaning on his gun, and
did not look quite so drunk as he was at our last meeting. I
noticed the long knife in his belt, so he had been back to his hut
since I left it. I did not think about scalps this time, but cordi-
ally shook the hand he held out to me. fo doubt I looked pale,
for I felt very shaky, and when he pulled out the bottle from the
breast of his shirt I did not refuse it. I took a mouthful of the
whisky, which was horridly nasty, but it seemed to revive me.
He nodded when I gave him back the bottle, and put it back in
his bosom, and then motioning for me to follow him, he struck off
into the woods. He reminded me of a cat creeping along with
his noiseless step, and I no longer wondered how he had man-
aged to approach me unheard. Beneath my feet the dry twigs
cracked and the dead leaves rustled, while the Indian, a step in
advance, moved as silently as a ghost. We skirted a caiiebrake of
some extent, pressed through a dense growth of greenbriar bushes,
and at length emerged into the open, a few yards from the In-
MISTEONO. 57
,
dian's hut, The first sight that gladdened iny eyes was Midnight,
quietly cropping the grass near the spring. She was secured by
a thong, attached to a wild grapevine, which was elastic enough
to allow her tolerably wide grazing ground. As she raised her
head at our approach I noticed that the vine drew up and kept
the thong and bridle clear of her legs. This is, therefore, another
lesson in woodcraft that I have learned.
I walked round the tree, and was about to kneel down for a
drink at the spring, when Misty handed me a gourd, which he
took from a fork in the tree. If any one who may ever happen to
see this record, wants to know what nectar tastes like, I advise
him or her to get thrown from a horse at about noon on a May
day in this latitude (which is about equal to a July day anywhere
else), and to lie stunned on the ground for an hour or so, and
then to take a mouthful of awful whisky, and stumble through
wild vines and thickets for a mile or two, till he or she is just
ready to die of fatigue and thirst, and then to get a gourdful
(say half a gallon) of pure, cold spring water, and drink it in the
shade.
After I had satisfied my thirst, and washed down the scalding
taste of the raw whisky, I handed the gourd back to the Indian,
who replaced it in the tree, and resumed his position, leaning
against the trunk. We took a good look at each other. There was
not much trace of intoxication left in his countenance now, and he
looked more respectable than at our first interview. His long
black hair, which was the only head gear he wore, hung straight
down over his face and neck. His little, sharp, black eyes were
roving over my person, resting upon my face occasionally, with
as friendly an expression as such a countenance could assume.
There seemed to be a mixture of perplexity and intelligence in
these furtive glances into my eyes, as if he were trying to recall
my features to his memory, and were baffled each time. He was
grave and dignified, apparently waiting for me to address him.
" Is your name Misty ?" I asked. He looked all round the
open, then nodding his head, he said,
u Yes. Injin have 7 nudder name when he was warrior. Young
chief name Hubbard P
" Why, where did you learn my name, Misty F I answered with
surprise, " and why do you call me young chief?' 7
" Injin see young brudder kill tiger cat. Young brudder brave,
he be warrior biineby. Injin was chief when he live in the Semi-
53 HAEWOOD.
nole country. Then he have good name. Misteono was warrior
before he drink whisky. Now he drunken Misty."
" Who calls you drunken Misty ?" I asked.
" You hear him. Injin hear him when he hid under the tree
yonder. When Cap'n come, Misty hide no want Cap'n see
him."
" Do you mean the man who was with Mr. Maltby ?" I in-
quired.
" Yes, Cap'n Delaney. Misteono knew him in Everglades
Misty know him here."
" What cause have you to fear him, Misteono V said I, giving
the Indian his ancient name. A fierce scowl passed over his face
as he answered,
" Misteono not feared ! time not come yet. See !" he added
suddenly, pointing his finger at a snake that appeared for an in-
stant and then wriggled into the bushes ; " Eattlesnake no make
noise till he ready to strike."
I unfastened my horse and mounted with considerable agility
as I heard the name of the dreaded reptile. They are uncomfort-
ably numerous in this locality, and I have heard enough stories
about them from the Carrville people to make me prefer my seat
in the saddle to the grassy bank upon which I had been standing.
Misteono evidently noticed my trepidation and understood its
cause.
" Eattlesnake not get bad for two, tree moons yet," he said,
" and he always rattle ? fore he bite."
" How did you catch the horse, Misteono P said I, not wishing
to pursue the snake subject any further. It is not worth while to
deny that I am horridly afraid of all varieties of the serpent
tribe ; and I believe that this dread and aversion is the instinctive
feeling of all men.
" Him come to the spring to drink. Bimeby he lay down to
roll and Misteono catch him before he get up. Know young
chiefs horse, so take his trail and go back for young chief. How
fa' off! Squaw ride him " Without waiting for an answer
he darted to the bushes just as I heard the faint sound of a horn.
I rode in the direction of the sound and soon saw my friend Carr,
followed by Jacobus. I shouted as soon as they came into sight,
and Carr galloped up to me, exclaiming " Here he is, by Jove !"
There is not much more to tell. It seems that the whole hunting
party returned to Mr. Maltby's, and after waiting an hour for my
MISTEONO. 59
arrival, Carr concluded that I was lost. Learning from Mr. Malt-
by that lie had left ine near the Indian's wigwam he had started
with Jacobus to look for me.
" I have been delayed somewhat," he said, " as I came round
by Manahio, supposing that you would leave the mare to find the
way for you, and I was sure she would go straight home. I was
a good deal disappointed, and, indeed, uneasy when I found you
had not been there. But when I reached your stand and dis-
covered that you had ridden off eastwardly I made up my mind
to hunt for you in the wilderness of the Anrite."
"I did not have a choice of routes," I answered. " Midnight,
took matters into her own charge as soon as I mounted and soon
unseated me. But tell me, Carr, how shall I reward Misty, who
has been a true friend in need."
"Oh, give him a gallon of whisky and he will be grateful while
it lasts. What a pity it is that the rascal is such a drunkard !
He is oue of the best hunters I know. And you ought to see him
spiking the fish in the creek by torch-light. You shall see him,
by Jupiter ! We will change our fishing excursion to the pools of
the creek to a regular gigging party, and Misty shall be master of
ceremonies. What do you say ?"
"Agreed," I replied ; " but where are you going now F
" To Mauahio, of course," answered Carr, " where you will get
some dinner and spend the rest of the day in any way that may
suit your fancy."
" Not to-day, Carr, if you please. Let me go home, take a bath
and dress my wounds and bruises. I shall be very happy to visit
Manahio some other time."
" Well, to-morrow evening then, or" seeing that I hesitated
" say Tuesday. Give me your gun and ammunition and Jake will
go with you as far as the ford. Keep the mare till Tuesday and
I will come into town after dinner and ride out with you. Good
bye."
I got home safely, took a famous nap after my bath, ate a good
supper, and then sat up half the night journalizing. And here
have I been doing the same thing to-night, but I'm off to bed.
GO HAEWOOD.
CHAPTER XII.
THE DOCTOR.
TUESDAY, May 11, 1836.
npHE postmaster of Carrville, Mr. White, has located his office
-L in a little building adjoining our store. I have allowed him
to open a door into the store room, so that I have an oversight of
the post-office while I am in our own building. We have a mail
twice a week, and I have been sworn in as deputy postmaster, and
I find that I shall have all the work to do, which don't amount to
a great deal. It takes about fifteen minutes to open and assort the
mail, and about as much time to make up the mail that leaves
Carrville so that I have undertaken to do fifty hours work in the
year for fifty dollars per annum. In to-day's mail there were two
letters for me. One from home ; all well and happy except for
my absence ; the other from. Mr. Bayard, who is still in New
Orleans. He says there is some reason to fear that the Seagull
is lost, with all our goods on board, and asks me for a list of in-
voices, and a memorandum of the insurance. I have answered
both letters, and have placed the insurance policies in the iron
safe at the hotel. I find that the total amount of purchases is
twelve thousand dollars, and that the insurance is for that amount
and ten per centum advance, which is according to custom. So,
if the Seagull is lost, Mr. Bayard will make twelve hundred dol-
lars, and the difference of interest between the settlement of the
claims upon the underwriters and the maturity of his bills in
October next. He concluded his letter in these words : " If the
ship is ascertained to be lost, one of us will have to go North to
collect the insurance and replace the goods." I did not reply to
this portion of his letter, because I did not know whether he
meant to include me in the " one of us,' 7 or whether he referred to
a silent partner, to whom I have heard him allude once or twice.
It would be too good news if he meant that I might have an op-
portunity to visit my dear home so soon.
There are two gentlemen in this place of whom I have been in-
tending to say something ever since I began this diary, and I may
as well take the present opportunity to put down my impressions
concerning them. Of course, I know very little about them, but
they have both been very friendly in their intercourse with me, and
THE DOCTOR. 61
I like them particularly. The first is Mr. Robert White, our post-
master. He is a quiet, gentlemanly fellow, about thirty years old ;
rather good looking and moderately lazy, or, perhaps, I ought to
say, indolent. I met him on the night of my arrival, and was
pleased with him from the first. Carr tells me that he owns no
plantation in this neighbourhood, though his wife has one some-
where in what they call the "Te'che Country." I suppose this
means the lands lying on or near the Bayou Teche. He lives, in a
pretty little house on the outskirts of Carrville, and I spent a
pleasant hour there one afternoon last week. I called him lazy
just now, but when I remember the beautiful garden around his
house, which he has adorned with his own hands, and which he is
all the time improving, I am forced to recall the slander. Still he
seems to be lazy about everything else. He won't do anything
about the post-office that he can escape. When he proposed to
open the door of communication between the office and our store
room, he said :
" I don't intend to work much among the mails. I did not ask
for the appointment ; and I should like you to undertake the prin-
cipal part of the duties at whatever price you think reasonable*
You can do all the mail work in an hour each week. The revenue
it yields me is very trifling, but it will be advantageous to you to
Lave it located near your store. What do you think would com-
pensate you ?"
u Fifty dollars per annum," I answered.
" Agreed!" said Mr. White, and that was the bargain.
The thing that made the strongest impression upon me the other
evening when I called at his house, was the profound affection he
and his wife entertain for each other. There was no violent de-
monstration, but it was constantly apparent. The mere inflexions
of their voices, as they called each other's names u Eobert " or
" Mary," attracted my attention all the time. I do not believe that
I can describe them, or even express what I think about them,
but I only know that I have never seen a man and his wife so
cordially devoted to each other as Mr. and Mrs. White seem to be.
They have no children. I shall probably have more to say about
them hereafter. Perhaps the best indication I can offer of the
impression their unity of sentiment made upon me, is the fact that
I never think of them separately.
The other gentleman is Doctor Markham, the only physician in
this neighbourhood. And now that I have written his name, I am
62 HAEWOOD.
at a loss to begin a description of him. He is probably a year or
two younger than Mr. White, and is undoubtedly a right down
good fellow. His office is opposite the store and I see him fre-
quently during the day, sometimes mounting his horse to start out
on his round of visits, and looking as if he had not fully made up
his mind whether to start or not, or which foot he would put into
the stirrup. Sometimes, when he comes home, his horse stops at
his door and he sits awhile in the saddle, as if debating in his own
mind whether or not he had better dismount, or call his little
nigger " Sam " to help him down. He is the slowest man I ever
met, and yet he is a man of excellent sense and sound judgment*
His practice is large, and probably would be profitable, if he were
not too lazy to attend to collections. This morning, as he was rid-
ing away, he called out to me across the street :
"Hubbard! I wish those drugs of yours would come, I am
almost out of calomel !"
" I can get some for you, doctor," I answered.
"Where? How?"
" From Baton Rouge. I can send by Captain Joli, and have it
here in a day or two."
" So you can !" he exclaimed, after meditating a few minutes.
" I wish you would send for half a pound." And then he paused
again, and added, " Hey ! No ! Say a quarter of a pound. Maybe
it is not good!" Another pause, and then "No, you had better
get a pound ! When yours comes I can use this for external ap-
plications. Get up !" And away he went.
He came back about noon. I have had toothache for a day or
two, and to-day it was dreadful. So when the doctor returned, I
walked over to his office and followed him into it. He shook hands
with me and handed me a chair with great politeness. Then he
took off his hat and coat, and bawled out for " Sam." When the
young African appeared, the doctor told him to " get some water
in the other room." The boy moved with great activity to obey
his commands, and presently I heard the doctor splashing in the
water in the next room. He came to the door in a short time, rub-
bing his face with a towel, and wiping his hands as though he
never intended to consider them dry. At last he looked at me
attentively and said :
"What ails you, Hubbard ? Your face is a yard long P
" I've got the toothache, doctor."
" Hey ! Where is it ?"
THE DOCTOR. 63
" In my mouth, sir," I replied with a sickly attempt at a smile.
" The deuce it is !"
He pulled open a little drawer and took out two or three horrid
looking implements. The pain suddenly subsided, and I began to
think what an ass I was to come over there at all. But I was
ashamed to back out now, so I allowed him to examine my grinders.
il Does it ache much F asked the doctor, after he had found the
ailing tooth, and poked about it in a very unpleasant manner.
" No, sir ; it don't ache at all now." He laughed, and I plucked
up courage to ask : " Do you think it ought to come out, doc-
tor?"
" Yes ; it will probably ache until you get rid of it ; but if you
don't want it out, I'll put some kreosote in the cavity ; maybe it
will get easier."
" Will it hurt me much to draw it F
" Yes ; it will hurt like blazes," he replied, with charming can-
dor. "The gum is inflamed and sore ; but it will soon be over,
and I think you will survive the operation." And here he laughed
again.
" Work your fiendish wilt upon me !" I exclaimed, in a rage.
He put his arm around my head, and passed a lancet around the
gum. Then he seized the tooth in the forceps, the heavens and the
earth came together with a crash, and the doctor stood over me,
nourishing the extracted molar in triumph above my head.
Slow as he is about most things, he was fast enough this time.
"There!" he said, kindly, "you bore that like a stoic. I ex-
pected you to howl a little. It hurt, didn't it ? Here ! take a sip
of brandy. I don't often recommend brandy, either. Will you
have another tooth drawn F
" Ko, I thank you, doctor. I am sorry to deny you the grat-
ification, too; but the next time I submit to such an opera-
tion it will be after I have endured the pain three hundred and
sixty-five days."
" It won't be a wisdom tooth, then," quoth the doctor. " Here,
I'll lend you a book ;" and he took a volume from a shelf. " It is
old Burton's Anatomy."
"I am much obliged to you, doctor," I answered, "but I have
the book, and have already read it through."
" The deuce you have ! Burton's Anatomy of Melancholy ! read
it through ! What d'ye mean ? Have you laid it aside as a work
accomplished F
64 HARWOOD.
11 No, indeed $ I read a little every time I get a chance. One
does not finish Burton with one reading."
" How old are you ?" said the doctor.
" Not quite twenty-one ;" replied I. And then I thought it was
a small business to pretend to be older than I was, so I added :
" the truth is, doctor, I am not quite twenty. I am about nine-
teen and a half."
" Well, you will be older in a few years, if you live; besides,
there is not much difference between nineteen and twenty-one.
A man don't have any sense until he is thirty-five or forty, any-
how."
" I did not think you were so old, doctor," I rejoined with a
bow.
" Who ? I ? Oh, I don't profess to be very wise ; and there are
exceptions to all general rules. Are you going ? Well, I'll call
over to-night and have a talk with you."
" I am going to Mr. Carr's to-night, but any other time "
" Why, so am I! I have to see that boy again to-day. Well,
then, I'll meet you there, if I am not able to ride out with you.
Good bye !"
I have written all this about Doctor Markham, because he can
thus describe himself better than I can describe him. Mr. White
says his patients are all very much attached to him, and that he
could " take his choice " among the young ladies of the neighbour-
hood, if he were inclined to marry. When I know him better I
intend to find out why it is that he keeps single ; but I hear Carr's
voice, and now I must get ready for our ride. I suppose I shall
have to wear a black coat, hot as it is. We won't have the doc-
tor's company, as I saw him ride off an hour ago.
CHAPTEE XIII.
RET.
WEDNESDAY, May 12, 1836.
T FEEL so bewildered, and (I don't know why) also so dispirited
-L to-night, that I am half inclined to put my diary away again and
go to bed. There is some unfathomable mystery enveloping me, and
the matters I have to record are so strange to my mind that I kept
RET. 65
awake all last night, thinking and wondering. I believe I have
made up my mind to consult Mr. White, and to be guided by his
advice. He is a good man, and I can trust him with the whole
story. Since I came in from Manahio, this morning, I have had
very little to do, and I have spent the day in thinking over the
events of last night. The workmen have gone at last the store
being finished ; and I have been alone here all day, as Mr. White
went to Baton Eouge early this morning. I cannot go to sleep,
if I go to bed, so I will write until I feel drowsy, anyhow.
After Carr and I crossed the creek yesterday afternoon we
turned into a broad carriage road, which followed the course of
the stream for more than a mile. We arrived at the grounds
around the house, which is not far from the Manahio, at sunset.
Like all residences in this State, the house is surrounded with a
broad veranda, and for eight or nine months in the year the spa-
cious " galleries," as they term them, are the living rooms of the
family. As we rode up the gravelled road, approaching the house,
I saw several persons on this open porch, and my heart beat with
mingled curiosity and bashfulness as I perceived that a young
lady was one of the party. She was dressed pshaw ! what do I
know about her dress ! I only noticed that it was black, and
looked blacker in contrast with her fair neck and arms. I sup-
pose I ought to call these "alabaster." She has brown hair,
brown eyes, generally sad looking, though sometimes bright and
sparkling. I don't know whether she is handsome or not. Prob-
ably she is, or would be, if she did not dress in black. She is
eighteen. I heard Mr. Carr say that she was two years older than
her brother, and he told me that he was sixteen. But I am anti-
cipating.
Jacobus took our horses, and as we ascended the steps Mr. Carr
came forward to meet us. He shook hands with me, inquired if
I felt any ill effects from my late accident, and then presented me
to the young lady, who stood near him.
" Mr. Hubbard, my dear ; Miss HARWOOD, sir !" I bowed and
stammered something, as the lady returned my salutation, and
Mr. Carr, who had me by the arm, led me to a youth seated in an
arm chair, and finished the ceremony, and nearly finished we, by
adding : " Mr. HERBERT HARWOOD, sir ! The boy had his right
arm in a sling, and he put out his left hand to me, saying : " Mid-
night gave me a tumble, too, Mr. Hubbard. Please excuse my
left hand !" He is a bright looking fellow, and decidedly good
5
66 HARWOOD.
looking, too. I don't know what I should have said or do no in
iny confusion, if Dr. Markham had not come up, and shaking my
hand, inquired : < ; How is the toothache now, Burton F
What under the shining sun does it mean? My name is not a
very common name, and here I find a boy bearing it, while I have
lost it. There certainly must be some wonderful mystery about
the business. How has it chanced that I have never heard the
name of this brother and sister before? I remember, when
the negro told me the story of the haunted laurels, he spoke of
their dead father constantly as " Mars'r John." While I lay
awake last night, thinking confusedly of that ghost story and of
these young children and their sorrows, of the melancholy expres-
sion of the girl's face, and the horrid burden she constantly bears,
in the knowledge of her father's death, perhaps by nis own hand ;
and then her brother's name, Herbert a name given to me in
memory of my father's uncle, and so uncommon that I have
never known a single individual who bore it while I thought of
all these matters, I vow that I almost fancied the room was
haunted. I was foolish enough, at last, to get out of bed, dress
myself, excepting my boots, and sit at the window, smoking
cigars, and listening to the murmur of the Manahio, which I could
hear distinctly in the stillness of the night. But I am not telling
my story very coherently.
At the tea table I sat next to Miss Ret, which is the universal
name of Miss Harwood, and had some slight opportunity to look
at her and converse with her. She looks actually beautiful
when she smiles, which she does very rarely, however. Doctor
Markham asked her brother if he felt disposed to ride Midnight
again, and if " he would like to have his other shoulder put into
place F
" I am ready to take another ride whenever Eet will lend me
her mare," replied Herbert 5 u but I am. not the only one she has
thrown ;" and here he glanced slyly at me.
" I was not exactly thrown," replied I, u the mare brushed me
off by running on the wrong side of the tree. Besides, / had no
bridle. You must be tolerably courageous, Miss Harwood, to
undertake the management of Midnight."
" Oh, she never misbehaves with me," she rejoined, with a
smile; "perhaps she is like most of her sex, restive under mas-
culine restraint."
" I am always uneasy, however^ Miss Henrietta," said Mr. Carr,
RET. 67
" when you mount that animal, and I have nearly concluded to
forbid your use of her for a year or so. She will, perhaps, be
more discreet when she is more matured."
" Now, father," said Charley, " you must not lay an embargo
on Bet's rides. Herbert was thrown because he would spur
Midnight, and Mr. Hubbard by Jove! Jie had spurs on Sun-
day, too ! I had forgotten all about them ! Look at him ; he is
actually blushing 5 make a clean breast of it, my friend ! She
threw you because you spurred her. Hey P
" No ! Yes ! that is " and everybody, Miss Eet included,
began to laugh. I told the story of the accident as soon as they
got quiet enough to listen, but I am perfectly satisfied that they
all blame the spur. Anyhow, they laughed again when I had
finished. It is just possible that the accidental touch of my
" armed heel " hastened matters somewhat.
" How old is your mare, Miss Harwood ?" I asked.
"Four years on the first of July next," she replied. I was
about to say something concerning her accuracy in dates, when I
observed the smile fade away from her face, which became deadly
pale. I thought everybody looked Bather grave, and wondered
what impropriety there could be in the question and answer.
There was a few minutes' silence after her reply, which seemed to
be embarrassing, and it was at last broken by the young lady
herself remarking that both her brother and I had met with our
disasters on the Sabbath.
"Do you really believe, Bet," said Charley Carr, " that the day
had anything to do with the occurrences ? Because Midnight
must then be more religiously inclined than any of us. Besides,
you are in some sort responsible yourself, as the mare is your
property."
"You know very well, Charley," retorted Eet, "that the animal
was used on both occasions without my knowledge or consent,
and you also know that I should have objected, if my opinion or
will had been consulted." This was said with a quiet dignity,
and she looked beautiful once more, though she did not smile.
" I am obliged to confess," said I, interrupting Carr's re-
joinder "that my first thought, when I recovered from the
effects of the fall, was, that I deserved my fate for violating the
Sabbath. Moreover, my firmest resolution at the same time was
to avoid all similar abuses of the day hereafter." They were all
looking at me when I said this, Miss Eet very kindly, Mr. Carr
68 HARWOOD.
very curiously, and. Charley and the doctor very incredulously.
I went on bravely : " I am not particularly pious, and I know I
do a great many worse things ; but my Mother would be deeply
pained if she knew how I had spent that day."
"That's right, Burton," said the doctor, patting me on the
back, "and I'll knock anybody down that says you are wrong."
" The resolution was a good one at least," observed Miss Har-
wood, "whether the motive was proper or not. I mean," she
added apologetically, as we rose from the table, " I mean that
you might have had even a better motive than love for your
Mother." Once more she looked superbly lovely.
" Perhaps I have, or may have," replied I, in a low tone. She
heard me, but nobody else did. She is a wonderful woman, con-
sidering her age ! My answer was somewhat equivocal, and her
look showed that she so regarded it. We were all seated on the
gallery a few minutes later, where we found a Mr. G-owrie, an old
Scottish gentleman living at Oarrville, who had just arrived. The
discussion was resumed by the doctor, who observed that all days
were necessarily alike to him, inasmuch as people " got sick on
Sunday, and had to be visited and prescribed for." I waited for
somebody else to answer him until Oarr asked : " What have you
to say to that, Hubbard f '
"I don't know why you appeal to me," I replied, "but it is only
necessary to say that good people hold that works of necessity
and mercy are allowable on the Sabbath. The doctors vocation
includes both classes."
"My idea," quoth the doctor, "is, that men should cultivate a
thankful, and, if you please, a devout frame of mind all the time.
I don't believe in any religion that one puts on only one day in
seven."
" That is to say, the Sabbath is the product of mere human
superstition," I replied, " or, at least, that actions which are
wrong on Sunday are equally wrong on any other day."
" Exactly," said Charley Carr. There was a short pause. Miss
Harwood looked inquiringly at me, as if she expected me to say
more. She sat just opposite one of the windows, and the light
from the room shone on her face. I could not resist the look. I
was foolish enough to fancy that it said, " Answer him," in a tone
that was at once imperious and gentle. Mr. Carr appeared rest-
less, and tired of the conversation. Master Herbert was whistling
softly; nevertheless, I ventured one more shot.
KET. 69
" You seem so well satisfied with your conclusion, Carr, that it
is almost a pity to disturb your serenity, but I will just say an-
other word : if we are creatures at all, we owe allegiance to the
Creator, and He has expressly commanded a special observance
of one day of the week. He has forbidden certain things on the
Sabbath which He enjoins upon us during the week."
"That is verra weel put, young gentleman," observed Mr.
Gowrie, " but it does not contain all the argument." We were
all slightly startled by this remark. Mr. Gowrie had walked out
from the village, and declined the invitation to supper when Mr.
Carr found him on the gallery, saying he had already supped.
He had been listening very quietly to the conversation, and this
was his first remark. There was something pugnacious in the
tone, which awakened the doctor's pugnacity in turn.
" I should like to hear an argument, Mr. Gowrie," said he, " if
there is one."
" It is no' easy to state it in full, but the septenary division of
time seems to be written upon the nature of humanity. It is
found among heathen tribes, who never heard of either Jewish or
Christian Sabbath."
"But that proves nothing about the establishment of a special
day for religious observance. Does it, Burton ?"
" I beg to refer you to Mr. Gowrie. My side of the debate is in
his hands now, and I am well content to leave it there."
"D'ye happen to know," said the Scot, "why the Sabbath came
to be observed at first ?"
There was a slight pause, and then a sweet voice answered?
" For in six days the Lord made heaven and earth, the sea
ami all that in them is, and rested the seventh day ; wherefore,
the Lord blessed the Sabbath day and hallowed it."
" Preceesely. The young leddy has given the best possible an-
swer. If you believe the words she has quoted have authority, I
suppose there need be nae mair argumentation."
" I have an objection to put in just there," said Charley Carr.
" The day, you observe, is not the day referred to in Miss Har-
wood's quotation."
" And I have another slight objection," quoth the doctor. " I
happen to be a geologist, and, therefore, I can never believe that
this earth was made in six days."
The Scot settled himself in his chair, took a pinch of snuff,
cleared his throat, and answered :
70 EARWOOD.
" Til just tak> one objection, at a time, and begin with yours,
doctor. Geology is a fine science, and I cherish a great respect
for it, but it is no ? quite so auld as revelation. Then, its professors
dinna agree verra weel aniaug themselves. I know of a dispute,
in which a few millions of years are involved, between twa of your
maist famous professors in Scotland."
" But they agree in rejecting the six days story, anyhow."
" Ay, ay," answered Mr. Gowrie, "they agree in many points;
but I am no ? certain about the sax days inyseP, and, in fact, I
dinna care a bawbee whether it was sax days or sax million ages.
D'ye happen to have a copy of the Scriptures at hand, Miss Har-
wood P
Miss Harwood rose, stepped through the window into the room,
and reappeared in a moment with a Bible in her hand, which she
offered to Mr. Gowrie.
" If I may be so bauld," he said, " I'll trouble you to read the
passages I want ; my eyes are no sae young as they were forty
years ago."
u With pleasure, sir," replied she. " I can see perfectly by this
light."
" Weel," began the theologue, dogmatically, " there were twa
things which God gave to man in Eden that he brought out wP
him. He left somewhat in a hurry and brought very little else.
The first was the marriage relation, the second was the Sabbath."
" That is a striking remark," said Dr. Markhain, " and I am
pleased to admit it 5 but the six days "
" Bide a wee, we'll hae the sax days soon enough. Please to
read a varse or twa of the second chapter of Genesis, Miss Ret."
She read three verses, and Mr. Gowrie stopped her. " There is
the whole story ab initio. I tak> it for granted that you young
gentlemen will admit that these varses contain the whole original
account of the institution of the Sabbath."
" Yes," answered Charley and the doctor in a breath.
" Weel," said Mr. Gowrie, very slowly and composedly, " there
is na word.aboot the sax days there."
Miss Jlarwood read the verses again. There was a pause.
Everybody appeared reluctant to " tackle " the Scotsman. He
looked very grisly, as he sat there in the dim light, audibly
chuckling.
a l cannot see the force of the omission, Mr. Gowrie," said Miss
Eet, at last. u Will you please explain f
SET. 71
" Certainly, so far as I can. I think the Sabbath was hal-
lowed because God rested, not because He worked. He could have
made the world in sax minutes, if He pleased, or He may have
wrought through countless ages. It mats no differ in either case,
as it is the Best we celebrate on the Sabbath."
" Mr. Gowrie/ 7 said the doctor, elaborately, " I am sure you err
in calling the day <the Sabbath. 7 It is probably owing to the mis-
fortune of your Presbyterian education. The day observed by
Christians (except Seventh-day Baptists), whatever their mode of
observance, is in no sense of the word c the Sabbath/ which is a
peculiarly Jewish institution, and belongs to the seventh day of
the week alone. If you observe the seventh day you observe the
Sabbath ; if the first day, be as rigid as you please, it is ' Sun-
day/ or < the Lord's day/ if you like, but not i the Sabbath.' You
might as well call Easter * the Passover. 7 "
Here was another pause. At first I thought Mr. Gowrie was
floored, but happened again to hear his truculent chuckle. I
looked intently at him, saw his eyes twinkle, and waited for his
answer.
" I dinna ken whether you'll hae the patience to hear the
answer "
" You can't get off so easily, Mr. Gowrie," said Charley, de-
lightedly ; " we'll listen to you all night, if necessary."
11 Less time will do, Maister Charley, and I am the inair willing
to answer the doctor,* because I answer yon objection of yours at
the same time. Will the young leddy please read a varse or twa
from the fourth of Hebrews V 9
" What verse, sir F
" A weel, begin wi' the fourth varse. 77
And Miss Harwood read :
" For He spoke in a certain place of the seventh day on this
wise l And God did rest the seventh day from all His works. 7 w
" That is to say/ 7 said Mr. Gowrie, expounding, " He so spoke in
the second chapter of Genesis, which Miss Eet has already quoted.
Now, in the 5th chapter of Deuteronomy arid at the fifteenth varse,
Moses says the Lord commanded this observance because He had
brought the tribes out of Egypt. There was always before the
mind of the Jew the Eest of the land of Canaan, after his toil-
some wanderings throughout the forty years, and the constantly
recurring Sabbath was, to the Jew, an earnest, and pledge, and
type of that Eest. But in the eighth varse of this fourth of He-
brews the writer says Joshua did not obtain the true Eest, because
72 HARWOOD.
God afterwards spoke of another day. Nothing could be more clear
and explicit than this statement. Now, doctor,' 7 and he produced
a little volume from his pocket, " I'll just trouble you to read the
next varse the ninth.' 7
"The doctor took the book, and stepped to the window. " Why,
it is Greek !" he exclaimed.
" Preceesely," answered the Scot composedly, "and- a verra fine
tongue it is."
" I am rather rusty in Greek, Mr. Gowrie," said Markham, "but
I'll try. The ninth verse, fourth chapter here it is ! Urn, um !"
"Ye need na' read the Greek, doctor, please translate into
English."
" Well," said the doctor, " it reads somehow thus : * There re-
mains therefore a rest and a Sabbath-keeping to the people of
God.'"
" And the next varse," said Mr. Gowrie, " gives the reason. It is
because Christ also has ceased from His work, and entered into His
rest," to wit, on "the first day of the week, when He arose from
the dead, preceesely as God ceased and rested on the last day of the
week." He rose as he spoke, and with great dignity continued, " it*
is easy to preach from so clear a text as this. If the Jew had a
Sabbath, sanctified by the completion of God's great work of crea
tion, surely the Christian has a Sabbath, sanctified by the com-
pletion of God's great work of redemption. And I'll just add,
doctor," and he turned suddenly upon the medico, "if you will
take the trouble to look at the twelfth chapter of the Acts, at the
fourth varse, ye'll just find that the writer there calls the Passover
Easter. Your illustration was unfortunate. Gude night, Miss
Eet, I am verra much obliged to you for listening so patiently.
Gude night, gentlemen." And chuckling at a great rate, he went
crunching on the gravel towards the gate. In a moment he was
hidden by the trees, bat we heard him once or twice chuckling in
high glee.
We all laughed. The discomfited appearance of the doctor
was very funny, but did not seem to disturb him at all. He sat
there where the Scot left him, meditating. At length he sighed
softly.
"I tell you what it is, Burton," he said, " any man who tackles
a Scotch Presbyterian on Theology had better keep out of reach
of the fool-killer. I thought I had him down, but I hadn't !"
" Some of Mr. Gowrie's positions are new to me," I answered,
his whole argument was tolerably strong."
RET. 73
" Mr. Gowrie is cue of the most remarkable men I liave ever
met," observed Judge Oarr ; " he is very thoroughly educated, and
has more than once given me from memory long l quottatious/ as
he calls them, from classical authors, that were perfectly accurate.
He is also very fond of lighter literature, a very severe critic of mod-
ern poetry, especially that of Moore and Byron, but with sound judg-
ment and rare taste. He is an excellent business man, exact and
scrupulous in all his dealings, seeming to take delight in the dry-
est details of commercial affairs. Once or twice I have, for mere
amusement, engaged him in controversy upon theological sub-
jects, and I must say that he has always forced me to believe that
his points were well taken, and, in fact, impregnable. He has a
sly way of yielding points which appear to be vital, and then
coming down suddenly, and with tremendous force, in an unex-
pected quarter. His curious dismissal of the i Sax days ? appears
to illustrate this peculiar habit."
" What do you think of Mr. Gowrie's positions, Mr. Hubbard P
said Miss Harwood.
" It seems to me," replied I, " that his statements were all per-
fectly logical. A quaint remark of his just occurs to me. I was
speaking to him this morning about an infidel book that has re-
cently appeared, entitled 'The Free Thinker, 7 and his comment
was i ay, ay, I hae perused yon book. The maist remarkable thing
I found in it was the title. The author, instead of being 'free/ is
in bondage to the rnaist extraordinary ignorance, and there is no
sign in his book of any * thinking ' of any sort." I turned to Char-
ley and added, " You may as well abandon your flimsy theories,
mon ami, and rely upon the immutable facts of an existent Deity,
and therefore a Divine Eevelation."
"You are taking for granted every thing that you ought to
prove," said Oarr ; " the existence of a Deity, the fact of a Divine
Eevelation, and "
" Oh ! Charley ! Charley !" Miss Eet is certainly in love with
my friend, I think, and she is as evidently disgusted with what
he calls his i free thinking. 7 I don't believe, however, that he is
settled in his infidel opinions, but rather suppose he talked for the
sake of argument. Fll have it out with him hereafter."
His father interposed at this point :
" We have been waiting for this opportunity, Mr. Hubbard, to
hear from you an account of your adventures last Sunday," he
said. " Charley tells me that you did not give him more than the
74 HARWOOD.
outlines of your story, so if you please we will postpone polemics,
and listen with great pleasure to your account of the panther
hunt. 7 '
" If you please, father," said Charley, "I would like to ask Hub-
bard one question before we change the subject. Why did you go
on this unhallowed expedition last Sunday ? I presume the views
you have just expressed are not altogether new to you F
" I hardly know why I did not decline your invitation when it
was given. I recollect that I offered some objection and I think
you did not give me time to refuse. However, I had determined
to send you a note of apology by Jake, but "
" But what P said Miss Harwood.
" But my good resolutions vanished before the desire to bestride
your mare as soon as I saw her. After I once mounted, I confess
I did not think much of the day until Midnight and I parted
company."
" There !" said Charley, triumphantly, " I said it was all your
fault, Bet, or your mare's fault, which is the same thing. She is a
dumb brute and not responsible."
" I want to hear about the panther now," replied Miss Harwood.
Her brother ceased whistling, and drew his chair up. I had a
very attentive audience. They all listened with a flattering silence
while I narrated the panther story. I tried to say little about the
actual encounter, which was no great shakes after all. The brute
must have had some forty buckshot in his body before I gave him
the couj) de grace. When I finished the recital Carr observed that
my account did not exactly agree with Mr. Maltby's. " He said
that you rushed in and knifed the brute while he was still fighting
the dogs."
" I believe I did," I answered $ " it was all over in a minute. I
saw Music dash at the panther and get an ugly scratch, and you
know she is a pet of yours and mine. I suppose I was induced
to take an active part in the dispute on her account."
" Mr. Maltby says he would not have stood in your shoes for the
best plantation in the State. The panther was more dangerous
because wounded, and poor Music can testify that he was not
quite so nearly dead as you suppose."
" Please tell me, Mr. Hubbard," said Herbert earnestly, u what
you thought when you went in."
" I don't remember," replied I, laughing at his earnestness. " I
had not much time to think. I saw the dogs flying about, and
RET. 73
when I first got a good view of the panther he was on his back,
fighting with all four of his feet. As I ran up a dog passed me
and darted at his throat, and in the struggle that followed he
turned over on his side. I think I put my foot on his fore leg and
thrust the knife into his body, just behind the shoulder."
" That was just it," said Charley Carr. " Maltby thinks it was
the pluckiest thing he ever saw or heard of. It is curious, by -the
bye, what became of the beast. Maltby went with one of his boys
in the afternoon to skin him, but could not find hide or hair. Old
Misty could not be found either, nor has he been seen since Sun-
day."
a There was a person with Mr. Maltby on Sunday," said I,
" called Captain Delauey, I think "
" Delaney !" said Miss Harwood, with a start.
" Yes 5 at least the Indian told me that was his name. I men-
tioned his because I wished to know if any of you could tell me
anything about him."
" Captain Delaney lives in New Orleans," said Mr. Carr. " He
comes to this parish occasionally. When he is in this neighbour-
hood he stays at Mr. Maltby's. I think he is related to Mrs.
Maltby."
" Is he in the army, sir ?" I inquired.
" No that is, he was a captain of volunteers in the Florida war,
and he still retains the title. At present he is a
" A sportsman," said Charley, when his father paused, as if he
were hunting for a word to describe the sleek gentleman's occu-
pation. " Sportsman " in this latitude means simply a gambler.
" I was going to say a gentleman of leisure," continued Mr.
Carr. " He seems to have plenty of money always. Charles calls
him a i sportsman, 7 1 suppose, because he plays for money, but I
think he has never been suspected of unfairness. Most of the
gentlemen in this vicinity have played with him, and though he
generally wins, his good fortune is attributed to his superior luck,
or skill, or both together."
Here the doctor started up, saying he must " be off." Jake
brought his horse to the step, and after he had deliberated some
five minutes, he finally made up his mind to put his left foot in
the stirrup. He mounted while he was making his farewell
speech.
" Do you keep yourself quiet for a day or two longer and you
shall have your fiddle again. You had better get Burton here to
76 HA E WOOD.
give you some lessons. He plays like tlie witches ! Good evening.
Never mind the gate, Jake. Mr. Hubbard will open it for me.
Come, Burton, walk down to the gate ; I want to speak to you."
As soon as we got out of earshot of the occupants of the porch,
the doctor, who is very thoughtful and considerate, began :
" I only wanted to say to you, Hubbard, that you must not
allow yourself to admire Miss Eet too much. She is mortgaged
to our friend Charley, I suspect."
" Much obliged for the warning, doctor," replied I, laughing,
although I felt rather provoked, " but there is not the slightest
danger in my case."
" I don't know about that, Burton. She is the finest girl in this
State, or in any other, that I know of."
u No doubt. Nevertheless I am safe enough.
" The devil you are ! D'ye mean that your young affections are
already placed ?"
" Yes upon myself. I am not young enough to fall in love
with the first pretty girl I see. Besides, Miss Eet is not so re-
markably beautiful. Oh, please tell me what there was about
my question that was mat apropos. I mean, when I inquired how
old Midnight was."
" Nothing amiss on your part. The mare was foaled on the
night that Mr. Harwood died. I'll tell you about it to-mor-
row. Here's the gate. I advise you to go back by that walk to
the left. I hate to be crunching over gravel when I can get on
the soft grass. Good night."
I turned off the carriage road as the doctor advised and pres-
ently came to a beautiful little bower, covering a rustic seat. I
sat down here and puffed at my cigar, thinking over all the mat-
ters I have been scrawling down here. It is probable that the
time slipped away faster than I imagined while I was indulging
in my " maiden meditations, fancy free." At last I threw away
the stump of my cigar and was about to resume my walk when I
heard footsteps on the carriage road, which was near the path,
and as they drew nearer I heard Miss Harwood's voice. She has,
a remarkably sweet voice, and I paused to listen.
" The doctor calls him Burton," she said.
" That's not his name, though," said Charley Carr. " Stop, 1
have a note from him in my pocket now. I can read it by moon-
light." He fumblecj in his pocket and I heard the rustling of the
paper. " It is signed i H. H.,'" said Carr, in a tone of vexation.
RET. 77
" l H.' does not stand for < Burton,' " said Miss Eet.
" It must be < Henry,' " observed Carr.
" Maybe it's ' Herbert/ " said my namesake, and then the young
rascal began to hum
" Old Mother Hubbard,
She lived in a cupboard."
" Hush !" said his sister, " he might hear you and perhaps he
would not like it. I think he must be a namesake of mine,
brother ; your name is not very common."
" I shall call myself ' Henry' hereafter, anyhow," said I, advan-
cing ; " Miss Harwood has not left me a choice."
They all laughed, though I thought the young lady was some-
what embarrassed, as she observed,
" We did not know you were so near."
" The doctor recommended the walk to me, and I was tempted
by the beauty of this arbour to rest while I finished my cigar. I
have overheard very little of your conversation. Dr. Markham
calls me < Burton' sometimes, because we both admire an author of
that name."
" I can very easily find out Hubbard's Christian name," said
Charley, " as some of the Carrville people will know it."
"Very well," replied I; "in the meantime I am to remain Henry
Hubbard, at your service."
" Your initials are the same as mine, Mr. Hubbard," said Her-
bert, " and Bet's too. Isn't that funny F
" Yes. But I know something still more unaccountable ; and
that is, that I am acquainted with a Baltimorean whose name is
precisely identical with yours."
" Herbert Harwood !" exclaimed all three.
I watched them to see what effect the announcement would
produce. Carr and Herbert expressed nothing but surprise, while
Miss Harwood appeared to be discomposed. Maybe this was only
my fancy. But she said immediately "we are keeping Mr.
Hubbard standing all this time. Let us go back to the house."
Charley and her brother walked on ahead, and I had the honour
of walking by Miss Bet's side. I think she lagged a little be-
hind purposely, to say to me, " At another time I will be much
obliged to you for a fuller account of your Baltimore ac-
quaintance. It is possible that Herbert and I may have relations
there of whom we know nothing, or very little."
I made no reply to this. I thought once or twice of bolting out
7-5 EARWOOD.
the secret of my identity with these possible " relations," but there
was some inflexion in her voice, or something in her manner, that
kept me silent. It's of no use for me to try to say what it was.
I don't know. But I will know, if it pleases heaven!
Ten o'clock came pretty soon. Charley escorted me to my sleep-
ing apartment, in which everything was nice and comfortable, and
left me, wishing me " pleasant dreams !" I hunted for the dreams
till midnight, and then got up and dressed. My room opened on
the second story of the verandah, and I spent most of the night
sitting at the window and on the door-sill, smoking, wondering,
dreaming perhaps, but not sleeping. I left this morning before
anybody was up except Jake, who got my horse for me.
CHAPTEE XIV.
HERBERT.
THURSDAY, May 13, 1836.
I HAVE been thinking a great deal about Miss Harwood to-
day, and trying to recall all that I hav e ever heard about my
father's family. I think there must be some relationship between
this young lady and myself, as I cannot otherwise account for the
interest I take in her and all belonging to her. It would be quite
absurd to suppose that the short time I spent in her society was
long enough to create any special I was going to say regard,
independently of an instinctive recognition of Kinship, if there is
such a word. It may, and probably will turn out that I am her
forty-seventh cousin that is always supposing my friendly feel-
ing to be the result of a blood relationship, recognized by me
through some mysterious faculty of the mind. In that case, how-
ever, the liking, if I may so call it ought to be mutual, and I
am bound to confess that I cannot remember that she gave any
evidence that way 5 though I think I remember all her looks and
words. I have not much to record as the events of to-day. If
Mr. White had returned I should have had some talk with him
about the matter. I don't know now whether I had better tell
him about my change of name or not. I wrote a letter to Mother
about it to-day and tore it up afterwards. I don't know what to
HERBERT. 79
think about an engagement between her and Charley Carr. While
she appears to be devotedly attached to him, I could not see any
tokens of very flaming love on his part. It would be truly hor-
rible for such a girl as she is to marry a man who did not half
love her ! But what business is it of mine $ I'll quit writing on
the subject.
I have been in the post-office all day. There are not many ap-
plicants for letters here, except on the day after the mail arrives,
so I have been uninterrupted most of the day. At dinner at the
hotel I noticed a stranger on the opposite side of the table, and
intended to look at the register to ascertain who he was and where
he was from. He is a slight, pale young man, a little bald, wears
near-sighted spectacles, and looks as if he had burned any quantity
of midnight oil. I forgot about the register when I came out,
and was seated behind the counter in the post-office smoking my
after-dinner cigar, when the stranger entered the office.
" Is there a letter for t Hamilton f " he asked.
" Yes sir !" replied I, going to the letter box and selecting it. It
was addressed to " the Eev. Philip Hamilton, Carrville, La."
"You have a good memory, sir," he observed politely. He
opened the letter, read it rapidly and then put it in his pocket.
" I remembered your letter, sir," said I, when he had got through
with it, " because it had the Baltimore post mark." He was turn-
ing away as I spoke, but came back immediately.
" Ah !" he said, with considerable interest. " Are you from that
city P
" Yes sir, it is my birth-place."
" The hotel keeper told me you were Mr. Hubbard ;" here he
bowed. " I asked your name, because I fancied that I saw in your
face a resemblance to some one I have met in Baltimore ;
perhaps a relation of yours P
" I have a Mother and two sisters there, sir, and no other kind-
red that I know."
" Ah ! then I must have fancied a likeness. Good afternoon, sir."
" Won't you walk in and take a smoke with me?" said I. "I
can't invite you into the post-office ; but if you will step into the
street and come in at the door at the right, we can fumigate the
whole of the adjoining house."
<' Thank you, you are very kind." So he came in. I gave him
one of my regalias, and we were soon puffing away in the empty
store room.
80 HARWOOD.
I found my new acquaintance very entertaining. He is very
fond of a joke, and cracks a good many himself. Most of the
preachers that I have known have been so grave and solemn that
I have always fought shy of their society. Mr. Hamilton asked
me some questions about Baltimore ; said he had been there within
a month, though he knew very little about the people. He preached
twice in one of the churches there, Doctor Kevins', I believe, and
had become a little acquainted with some of the members of that
congregation. He is going to preach in the Presbyterian Church,
in Carrville, on the next Sabbath, and I intend to go hear him. He
knows everything, and I hope we shall be good friends.
This evening, after tea, I went into the playing room at the
hotel, and saw Mr. Maltby and Mr. Carr playing a game called
euchre, with Captain Delaney and an ugly fellow that I have seen
in town two or three times. I have heard that he is an overseer
on some plantation in the neighbourhood. His name is Beckett. I
spoke to Maltby and Mr. Carr, but did not notice the others. They
seemed to be playing a pretty high game ; that is, Mr. Carr and
Delaney were betting ten dollars a game. I only staid a short
time. The game is somewhat like whist ; the best cards, however,
are the knaves of trumps, and of the other suit of the same colour.
I did not like to see old Mr. Carr gambling, though almost every-
body out here does it. They did not keep the play up very late,
as I saw Mr. Carr, Maltby and Beckett, riding out of town an
hour or two ago. This was the first sight of Delaney that I have
had since last Sunday. I heard him say that he was going to
New Orleans to-morrow. I hope he will stay there.
FRIDAY, May 14, 1836.
Ah, me ! Let me recount things in order. First, the mail last
night brought a letter for " Judge Carr." It was postmarked New
York, and had come u by express mail, postage seventy-five cents,
prepaid." Next, Charley came in this morning, and went on to
New Orleans in a transient steamboat. By-the-bye, Delaney went
in the same boat. I showed the letter to Charley, who requested
me to send it out to Manahio, if opportunity offered, or if none
presented, and, if " I would be so kind," to ride his horse out,
with the letter, in the afternoon. We both concluded that the
letter was important, as it had come out of the ordinary course.
Third : Mr. White returned last night, and took possession of the
Reverend Mr. Hamilton, moving him, bag and baggage, from the
HEEBERT. 81
hotel to his pretty cottage. After dinner they both came in, and
when I told Mr. White about the letter, he said he would remain
in the office with Mr. Hamilton, and if I would like the ride, I had
better act upon Charley's suggestion. So I found myself, early in
the afternoon, on the banks of the creek and near the haunted
laurels.
This was the first time, since I heard the legend, that I had the
chance to take a near look at this locality, so I turned off from the
road, and pushing through the undergrowth, I reached the trunks
of the big trees. They stand near the bank of the creek, in a
triangle, the sides of which are probably eight or ten yards long.
My first thought, after I had fastened the horse to a swinging
branch and dismounted, was, that the little area would be a splen-
did place for a quiet duel. The ground is level and smooth, and
the bushes, which were thick enough outside of the trees 7 shadow,
would conceal the combatants effectually. I looked in vain for
some traces of the tragedy which had been enacted on this spot ;
but it is probable that time has effaced such dismal memorials, if
they were visible five years ago. It was here, too, that John Har-
wood died his mysterious death, and I felt the old melancholy
feeling coming over me, which took possession of me, and kept me
awake the other night. I don't know why I should not be affected
by the sad countenance of his orphan daughter, and I am not
ashamed to own that I am affected, whenever I think of her (which
is pretty nearly all the time). The thing that plagues me most is
the conviction that Charley don't appreciate her, and, therefore,
will never be able to comfort her bah ! what a dreadful ninny I
must be !
The day was hot, and I took off my coat and vest, half disposed
to take a bath in the creek. While I was thinking about it I heard
a horse neigh, and presently I heard the tramp of his hoofs. My
horse neighed in reply, and in a minute or two a Spanish pony
poked his way through the bushes, bringing on his back no less
a personage than Master Herbert Harwood.
" Hello ! Mr. Hubbard ! Why, what the dickens are you doing
here P
"That's just what I was going to ask you," replied I, shaking
his hand. He slipped down from the saddle, and throwing the
stirrups over the cantle, he let the pony go, saying : " Here's some
elegant grass, Dick, and you may eat your belly full. I never
hitch Dick; he always stays where I leave him. I have to turn
6
82 HAEWOOD.
the stirrups over, though, for once he tried to get on himself; at
least, I found him with his hind foot in the stirrup. I ain going
to bathe in here, please ; so are you, ain't you f That's jolly ! Pve
got two towels." By the time he had got thus far, he had wriggled
himself out of his coat, and was fumbling at his collar-button with
his left hand. I perceived that his right arm was not of much use
to him, though he had gotten rid of the sling.
" Let me help you," said I, unfastening his button.
" Thank ? ee ! My arm hurts me a little, and the doctor says I
must not use it much, yet awhile. Now, sir ; please pull my shirt
right over my head ! Thank 'ee ! I can manage the rest. Boots
and trousers come off together, you see ! Why don't you un dress ? r
He slipped off his drawers and stockings, and waded out into
the stream, and was pretty soon up to his neck. He did not
attempt to swim, but wading back towards the bank, he crawled
up on a log, one end of which was resting on the shore. It
gradually sank with his weight, until only his head was visible
above the water. I was getting out of my boots when he recom-
menced his harangue.
" I say, Mr. Hubbard ! You know Jake went in after Midnight
the other morning 1 I mean the day after you were out at Man-
ahioP
" Yes."
" Well, he found she was hard to lead, so he got on her back,
and she gave him an awful hyste !"
" Was he hurt ?" I asked. He made no reply, but I heard him
splashing in the water. I had my back towards him, and was
tugging at my last stocking, when it suddenly occurred to me
that he had slipped off the log. I ran down to the edge of the
creek, saw the log bobbing up and down, but the boy had dis-
appeared ! I was stripped, with the exception of my drawers,
and without a moment's hesitation I plunged into the stream. As
soon as I got into the current I allowed my body to float with it,
diving whenever the water was too deep for me to see the bottom.
The laurels stood in a little cove, and there is a strong eddy just
along the bank; I suppose that is the reason the creek is deeper
there than at the ford. It is probable that Herbert was carried
back, up the stream, by this return current, as I found, after I had
floated and swam twenty or thirty yards from the log, that the
creek was too shoal for his body to get lower down. Accord-
ingly I put forth all my vigour, swimming along the bank, until
HERBERT. 83
at last I saw his arm, and then his white body above the surface
for an instant, near the spot where I at first entered the water.
In another minute his arm was around my neck, nearly choking
me, and I was half swimming and half crawling towards the bank.
I scrambled up somehow, and laid him down on the grass. He
was not entirely insensible, though he still clutched me round the
neck, and I had some trouble to get rid of his convulsive grasp.
Altogether, I was pretty well used up. However, I began to rub
him vigorously with a towel, trying to remember what was the
proper treatment for half drowned people. He muttered some-
thing about " hurting his arm," and I propped him up in a sitting
posture, handling him as tenderly as I could. Gradually a little
colour came into his cheeks and light into his eyes. He had not
been three minutes in the water.
"I say!" he began, after looking all round " at sun and stream
and plain" as if he were trying to decide where he was " I say,
why didn't you come when I called you ?"
" You must have called me while you were under the water, old
fellow. How came you to get under 1 I saw you wading just
before you disappeared."
"I slipped off the log yonder, and it struck me on my lame
arm, and then I kept falling down, down, till the current caught
me. But I thought I called you to help me."
" I thought you were astride of the log until I looked for you,
and when I found you were not, I jumped in, and have been as
far as the ripple and back again. I found you at last close by the
bank."
"Well, then," said Herbert, "I've been drownded!"
" Not quite," replied I, laughing, " but you were not very far
from it. Can't you swim f
" Yes, a little, but my arm hurt me so ! I say !" he continued,
his lips quivering and the tears springing to his eyes " I say,
you have saved my life !"
" Maybe so, but never mind that. How do you feel now F
il Oh, I'm all right now, only a little weak. Would you mind
helping me dress ? Thank'ee ! But I'll dip myself in the water
first. I've gone and muddied my legs !"
While he was performing his ablutions I took off my drawers,
and wringing them out, hung them on a bush in the sun. They
were nearly dry by the time I had got him dressed. His tongue
seemed to be the only member that had not lost its usual vigour,
as he talked incessantly.
84 EAEWOOD.
" Look here, Mr. Hubbard ! honour bright ! didn't you hear me
sing anything while I was in the water V 9
" Not a note."
Not < Old Mother* " he paused.
" * Old Mother Hubbard, she lived in a cupboard f " replied I.
" I heard you sing that the other night."
" Did you mind it ? Ret gave me fits about it"
" Of course I didn't," I replied, li you may sing it to me as
often as you like."
" That's a jolly good fellow !" and here he insisted upon shak-
ing my hand while I was trying to get his shirt over his head.
" Well, I thought I sung that while I was in the creek. It's a
dog on ugly name though, ain't it f '
" Yes, but I have another name and "
" May I call you Harry f he shouted, " oh, that's prime ! but
you are such a big fellow that it don't seem polite. S'pose I call
you cousin Harry ?"
" That's the very thing," answered I, poking his arm into his
shirt sleeve, " and I'll call you Cousin Herbert."
" Will you I Oh, ain't that jolly f and he pulled his arm out
to shake hands again. " Well, I call Charley Carr ' Cousin Char-
ley,' and he's not my cousin, you know."
" No, I don't know 5 I thought Mr. Carr was your uncle."
" No, he ain't ; no relation at all. He is guardian for me and
Ret. We've always called him uncle, but he ain't."
" Well, now, do you hold still till I get you dressed, and we can
talk as we ride. I am going to Manahio with you."
" Just shake hands once more, Cousin Harry. Thank 'ee ! now
I'll be still as a mouse." He kept his word, and we were soon
dressed. As we rode along the beautiful shady road, which I be-
lieve I've mentioned before, my new cousin did an immense amount
of talking, and I learned from him many things that I have been
wanting to know. I avoided asking him about his family, be-
cause I intended to get the information I wanted on that point
from his sister, if I ever had an opportunity. This opportunity
arrived sooner than I expected or hoped. When we reached Mr.
Carr's house I saw Midnight in Jake's custody, with a side sad-
dle on her sleek back.
Mr. Carr came out on the gallery, welcomed me very politely,
and expressed his acknowledgments for " my kindness " in bring-
ing the letter. After he had read it, I proposed taking his reply*
EEEBEET. 85
back with me, as I could send it to New Orleans by this evening's
boat and it could go by express mail immediately, from the city.
His answer to this offer was, "that the letter could only be an-
swered in person, and it was doubtful whether the matter was of
sufficient importance to warrant a journey to New York." Her-
bert had vanished into the house, and now reappeared with his
beautiful sister, who was dressed in a riding habit. She walked
straight up to me, as if she were about to knock me down, and
holding out her little white hand, which I took clumsily enough,
she said
" Oh, Uncle ! Herbert would have been drowned if Mr. Hub-
bard had not saved him !" There were tears in her eyes and her
voice.
"How! what! when?" exclaimed Mr. Carr, with astonishment.
" I was taking a swim, sir," said Master Herbert, " and I slip-
ped off a log, and hurt my arm, and then I suppose I fainted;
anyhow, cousin Harry had to swim ever so far before he found
me."
" Your cousin Harry !" said Mr. Carr, " what cousin Harry?"
" I believe that is to be my title, henceforth, sir," said I. " Since
I had the good fortune to pull Herbert out of the Mauahio, he
has been looking out for a name for me, and I am very well satis-
fied with the one he has chosen." All this time I was holding Miss
Bet's hand, like a booby. I suppose I looked at her with a very
warm, cousinly glance, and perhaps I squeezed her little hand. I
daresay ; I was mad enough to do anything, for she was looking at
me with her big brown eyes, in which the tear-drops still glittered
anyhow, she drew her hand away, and I think she blushed a
little.
" You have not yet told me how all this happened," said Mr.
Carr, looking alternately at me and Herbert ; " how did it chance
that Mr. Hubbard found your bathing place ?"
" I was already there, sir," I answered.
" Where ?"
" At the Haunted Laurels."
" The Laurels !" said Mr. Carr, staggering back as if he had
been shot. Miss Harwood ran to him, as he sank into a chair,
and I kept on talking, hoping they would all think that I had not
noticed his extraordinary agitation.
" Herbert would have been in no danger, sir, if he had not hurt
his arm. I think you had better prohibit similar excursions until
86 HAEWOOD.
he gets over his escapade with Midnight. By-the-bye, Miss Har-
wood, you are going to ride her this afternoon 1"
" Yes, sir, I was going to Harwood with a message from uncle.
But it will answer as well to-morrow; won't it, uncle P
" Yes, yes, replied her guardian " put the mare away, Jake,
and Mr. Charles's horse, also Mr. Hubbard will stay with us this
evening."
" Don't postpone your ride on my account," said I, rising, " but
rather allow me to ride with you that is, if you are going towards
town. I have to be there this evening to attend to mail business,
otherwise I should be too happy to remain."
"Are you well enough for me to leave you, brother P
11 Oh, I'm all right," answered he, swaggering about the gallery,
" only I want the sling again."
" Well, then, we will go, if you are ready, sir," to me. " Jake,
bring the horses." And a few minutes later we were pacing
down the drive, Jake following at a respectful distance. He was
gorgeously attired, and had a livery band around his hat, and
seemed proud of the honor of attending upon his future young
mistress. We passed out of the gate and I waited for her to say
something that would lead to the questions I wanted to ask her.
As we came in sight of the creek I inquired about the depth of the
water.
"The stream is fordable in many places," she replied ; " there
are some deep places which they call 'pools,' but I think they
are two or three miles lower down, near the mouth of the
stream."
"It is deep at the the place where your brother was bathing."
" You mean at the Laurels ; yes, I have heard that it was deeper
there. How did it happen that you were there to-day f
" I was on my way to Manahio, with a letter for Mr. Oarr, and
turned off to look at the trees. I was resting under their shade
when your brother came."
" Herbert says you risked your life to save his ! Oh, Mr. Hub-
bard, I have not much left to live for, and if my brother had died
there to-day, I think I should have died too !"
" I don't deny that I was instrumental in saving his life, but I
ran no risk. I can swim across the Mississippi. You need not
look so gratefully at me. The gratitude is due elsewhere. If I
had not been drawn to the spot, by what seemed only idle curios-
ity, but which both you and I know was direct and special Provi-
HERBERT. 87
dence Herbert would have been drowned." She covered her
face with her hands and we rode on in silence. After a time I
said : " You implied, the other night, that you would tell me
something about the Baltimore Harwoods, or rather that you would
ask me some questions about them."
" Oh yes. Do you know them well I How many are there of
them?"
" I know them very intimately. There are four persons only in
the family Mrs. Harwood, Miss Alice, Miss Grace and Mr. Her-
bert. I know they have no relations at least not on this side of
the ocean."
"Alice! Herbert!" she exclaimed, "and the family of Eng-
lish origin f '
" Yes, then* immediate ancestors were English."
il Do they resemble us I I mean me or my brother ?"
" I cannot say that they do. And yet, when you smile, you do
look like dear Grace."
" ' Dear Grace !' Oh, indeed ! Mr. Hubbard ! I perceive now
why you were so eager to talk about your Baltimore friends. Like
me, is she f I take that for a compliment, anyhow. She must be
particularly lovely in your eyes !"
"You are entirely mistaken," I stammered.
" Come, sir !" she said, still laughing merrily, " Do you mean
to say that you are not in love ?"
" I am afraid I am," I answered, and I believe I groaned.
"Well, don't distress yourself, I won't pursue the subject, Mr.
Hubbard."
" I wish you would not call me Mr. Hubbard !" I exclaimed pet-
ulantly.
" I think I might follow Herbert's example, and call you Cousin
Harry, if you like that better. I am. beginning to Relieve that
your friends are truly cousins of mine, and I would only be antici-
pating a little if I gave you that relationship." All this was said
in a gay tone, very different from her usual manner. The ride
must have put her in good spirits.
" If you will honour me so much, Miss Harwood, I will be ex-
tremely grateful." She looked surprised, and I continued, " You
don't know how I hate to be called Hubbard, but I will tell you
the next time I see you that is I think I will. And now, if you
will explain to me the possible relationship between you and my
friends in Baltimore, you will confer a great favour upon me. I
88 HARWOOD.
have powerful reasons I might say I have a right to know all you
eaii tell me."
We had by this time arrived at a fork in the carriage road, one
branch of which is the direct road to Carrville, the other leading
across the Manahio, by a ford more than a mile above the Laurels.
She turned her horse into this road, remarking that " I could get
to town that way." I followed her across the creek, wondering
what she was thinking about the matter, and what she was going
to say about my request for the history of the Harwoods. She
was evidently thinking upon the subject, and arriving at some
conclusion.
" I believe I understand you," she said at length. " You shall
have all the information I can give you. You have a right to ask
on two accounts. You have saved my brother's life, and there is
no one living that can be affected by the history I can furnish you,
unless it should happen that the Baltimore family but they are
your friends " She considered a moment, and then added:
" Promise me that no member of that family shall know what you
learn from the papers I give you."
" I cannot. It would not be possible for me to keep such a
promise."
" Well, promise me that you will reveal what you learn from
them to no one except your voife."
u I may safely promise that 5 I shall never have a wife."
" There is something very strange about this matter," said Eet,
with an air of great perplexity. " I suppose it is not proper for
me to ask what it is P
" I can tell you this much," I replied desperately : "I think I
love a lady, or that I would love her if I dared. But I have rea-
son to think or know that she loves my friend. I have been
told that there is even an engagement."
" I was going to ask you if your friend loved her, but if there is
an engagement between them "
" I don't know. If I "knew that he loved her as she ought to be
loved, I think I could endure it." She listened with great interest,
and I was encouraged to go on. "At times I doubt whether she
has the kind and degree of affection for him that a wife ought to
have. My ideas on the subject are peculiar, and perhaps roman-
tic. If I should ever marry, I should require my wife to love
God supremely and then to give me every other thought and feel-
ing of her heart, and, in requital, I would love her as no man
ever loved before, or ever will again."
HERBERT. 89
"And you doubt whether these feelings are mutually enter-
tained by Miss Harwood and your friend F
"I do."
"If your suspicions are well founded/ 7 she said, speaking
slowly and deliberately, "they ought never to marry. And if
you could be certain that your feelings have not warped your
good judgment, you would be justified in using any lawful means
to avert the doom that awaits them. Your friendship for one and
your love for the other, equally demand your interference to break
an engagement which, if fulfilled, will entail a life of misery upon
both."
She said this with great earnestness. We had entered a beau-
tiful avenue, and were approaching a house far superior in appear-
ance to any of the residences I had seen in the State. It is built
in the style of English cottages, with pointed gables, and looks
like pictures I have somewhere seen, probably in some book of
architectural designs. A broad verandah extends along the
wide front, and the windows opening upon it descend to the
floor, having inside shutters, which fold back against the frames.
Jacobus took our horses, and we stood on the floor of the veran-
dah, looking at the beautiful prospect before us.
" This is Harwood, sir," said Eet, " and I bid you welcome to
my father's house."
She rang the bell, and the door was opened by a little coal
black African, who showed a mouth full of ivory as soon as he
saw us. I heard him bawling out from the back of the house,
after we had passed into a drawing room on the right of the hall,
" Oh, mammy, mammy ! Here Miss Ket done coine, wid a nudder
gemp'lurn ! Uncle 'Cobus, too !"
" It is a wonder that 4 Uncle 'Cobus' was not the first to be an-
nounced," said Eet, laughing; "here conies Aunt Chloe."
A fat, middle aged negress came waddling into the room, drop-
ping me a curtsey, and a " Sarvant, Mars'r !" as she passed me.
She waddled over to Eet, and, shaking her hand, said, " La ! Miss
Eet, I'se right down glad to see you ! But dis room ain't bin
dusted to-day. Ef I'd knowd you was gwine to come, I'd hab it
all fix up !"
" Never mind, Aunty," said Eet, " I am only going to stay a
little while. Send Phany for Mr. Beckett."
" De oberseer done gone to town, Missee," replied Chloe.
" Well, then, I'll ride over again to-morrow. Tell him I'll be
90 EARWOOD.
here at four o'clock ; and, Aunty, please to bring me the black
key box. It is on the table in my room." While Aunt Chloe was
absent, Eet said, " Since my father's death we have lived alto-
gether at Mr. Carr's. There is no one about the house excepting
Chloe and her son, Phany."
" Phany F said 1 5 " that is a queer name."
" His name is Aristophanes. The negroes like big names for
their children, and father always gratified them by getting the
longest names he could think of. Thank you, Aunty." She un-
locked the box with a key that was attached to her watch chain,
and taking a bunch of keys from the box she opened an iron door
in the jamb of the fireplace. She took a package from this recess,
and, relocking the door, replaced the keys in the ebony box, which
she gave back to Chloe, instructing her to return it to her
chamber.
" These letters," she said, giving me the package, " are ar-
ranged according to their dates. You will, perhaps, have to read
them, all if you desire to know the full history of the Harwoods.
Some of them are old, and the ink has faded, but they are all
legible. I have read them several times. You will understand,
when you read them, why I wished to impose the restrictions "
"I wish you could trust me," I said, earnestly, "and let me
judge how much of the story I may reveal, and how much of it I
should consider private and confidential."
" Well," she said, after a pause, " read the letters, and if you
think afterwards that you should be freed from your promise,
I'll consider it."
I assisted her to mount Midnight, and when we passed out of
the avenue into the road, she observed that there were two ways
by which I could reach Carrville ; " The most direct route is a
succession of blind paths, and you might easily get astray in the
woods. If you have the time to spare, you had better ride round
by the Laurels I am going home that way."
" I have the day before me," I answered ; "my mail duties do
not begin till late in the night. I would go back to Manahio with
you if it were not for this package. I am dying to get at it."
"What have you heard about the Haunted Laurels?" she
asked, as we rode along. " Do not hesitate to tell me, I know the
common legend, and should like to correct any wrong impressions
you may have."
I told the story as I heard it from Jacobus, only saying that
Mr. Harwood had been found there dead, from a pistol shot.
HERBERT. 91
"It is partly true and partly false/' she remarked, when I
had finished. The Densons were almost undoubtedly guilty; but
my father rather tried to deliver them from the doom they suf-
fered. They did not threaten Mr. Carr or my father with any
unusual calamity ; but one of them, the elder, said just before he
died : i We will haunt these Laurels for five years to come, and
cheat those cursed Harwoods, yet.' Sometimes I think my father
attached some particular meaning to the threat, but he never said
so." I expected her to say something about her father's death ;
but she did not, and I did not dare to ask her then. When we
reached the Laurels, she said she wanted to see the scene of Her-
bert's accident, so we rode through the bushes, which I endeav-
oured to separate for her passage. I pointed out the places where
he had disappeared ; where I sought for him ; where I found him ;
and where we landed. We went back to the road, and I held
out my hand at parting.
" I have said nothing to you, sir," she said, her dear eyes once
more overflowing, " about my gratitude. I hope you know that
I can never forget what we owe you."
" Pray, Miss Harwood, say no more about it. I have great cause
of gratitude to God, who allowed me to be instrumental in saving
your brother, since you ' I was going to say she might think
kindly of me for Herbert's sake ; but I stopped. She seemed to
understand me, however, but she said nothing ; and so we parted.
Since I came home I have concluded not to read the letters. It
would be dishonourable. She does not know who I am, and she
would not have given them to me if she had known my name. I
opened the package and looked at the address and signature of
the first letter. It is dated "H. M. S. Orpheus, off Malta, De-
cember 1, 1800 5" and was signed " Herbert Harwood." I there-
fore know that the letter was written by my grand uncle, and
although I was burning with curiosity, I resealed the package,
which I shall take back to her to-morrow, if I live. She said she
would be at Harwood at four o'clock. So will I. What will come
of that interview only Heaven knows. I am resolved to be
guided by circumstances.
92 EARWOOD.
CHAPTER XV.
KINDRED.
SATURDAY, May 15, 1836.
WHEN I sat down last night and opened the package of let
ters, 1 was in a state of excitement which I can neither un-
derstand nor describe. The tones of rny dear cousin's voice for she
is my cousin, I know and the light of her eyes, were still with me j
and I felt my heart nay, I feel it at this moment thumping my ribs,
as though it wanted to get out and go after her. I suppose there is
something about her forlorn condition as an orphan that excites my
sympathy. All the intense curiosity I felt to dive after the mys-
tery that was hidden in the letters, did not keep me from spending
a solid hour in recalling all her looks and words. Alas ! I can
find nothing in them that indicates any interest in me. She re-
gards me, no doubt, as a poor devil of a clerk, who has come to
this far off country to make money, and who has been fortunate
enough to get some slight claim upon her, by pulling her brother
out of the water. This is the exact state of the case, and I were
a double distilled goose to suppose anything else.
(the letters were all open, one laid upon another, and I looked
only at the date and signature to the top letter. I endeavoured
not to see the address ; but I think I did see u My dear John." I
immediately replaced the wrappers, and adding a new one, I got
sealing wax and secured the package, wnich I addressed to " Miss
Henrietta Harwood, Manahio."
After dinner Mr. White was here, and I asked him if he would
be postmaster w'hile I " took a ride." He consented, and I was
astride of Charley's horse, and cantering out of town pretty early
in tlie afternoon ; of course 1 was an hour or two too early. When
I crossed the creek I. looked at my watch, and found it was only
two o'clock. Half an hour would take me to Harwood, or to Ma-
nahio, either, so I had an hour and a half too much time. I rode on
slowly, keeping the main road, and thinking of yesterday's ride, and
trying to invent some pretext to take me to Manahio, so that I might
accompany Eet in her ride to Harwood 5 but I was too stupid to
concoct an excuse that would satisfy me. 1 would adhere to my
original plan, which was to be at the latter place at about four
o'clock. Presently I heard the hoof strokes of a horse behind me ;
KINDBED. 93
but I did not look back until he was near enough for me to hear
the rider say
" Charley Carr's horse ! Hello ! Hubbard !"
It was Mr. Maltby.
" How d' ye do !" he said. " You are going to Highlands to
dine with me? That's first rate."
*'I have dined, thank you/' replied I; "but I will ride a little
way with you. Are you from town P
" No, I have been down the creek, trying to survey a little. My
land joins Judge Carr's and Harwood, at a point near the creek,
and none of us have any fences up. I want to cut some timber,
and don't want to cut any of my neighbour's in mistake."
"Do the lands of the Harwood estate lie on this side of the
creek P I inquired.
" Yes, a portion of them. Harwood is an original section, and
the survey of that estate is perfect. The line crosses the creek at
the ford, and I think it just takes in the big laurels."
" Isn't it a fine estate, Mr. Maltby P
" Oh, yes ; poor John spent much money in improvements, and
was considerably involved when he died. It won't make much
difference to the children, however, as Judge Can holds the mort-
gage."
u How much is the mortgage, and what is the value of the
estate f
" Harwood is worth one hundred thousand dollars. Carr's mort-
gage is for fifty thousand. He advanced money to John, and I
think he also holds bills of sale, giving him the ownership of the
niggers, or of part of them. There was some arrangement made,
by which one half of the estate should go to Herbert, iminvolved,
and Eet won't want any estate, you know, as she is going to marry
Charley."
" But suppose she does not, what estate has she then ?"
" Just none at all, I reckon. But the match has been settled long
ago, and it will be first rate on both sides. Eet is a splendid girl,
and you know what Charley is."
" Yes." I tried to keep up an appearance of indifference, but I
was on fire. " When does the wedding come off f I coughed, to
hide the trembling of my voice, as I asked the question.
" Pretty soon, I reckon. Maybe Charley has gone to the city to
get his toggery now ?" here he looked at me inquiringly.
" I don't know. He did not tell me."
94 HAEWOOD.
" I think 111 persuade Oarr to settle that mortgage on Charley;
for if the Judge bets as high all the time as he did t'other night
he'll be flat broke before he dies."
" I noticed that he was betting pretty high," I said ; " ten dol-
lars a game, wasn't it ?"
"Ten dollars a game, and twenty-five on the rub," replied Mr.
Maltby, " and he did not win any rubs that night. He must have
lost a thousand at least."
" He must have a strong back to stand many such losses," I ob-
served.
" Well, I shouldn't wonder if he was short of funds now. He has
been going it tolerably strong with Delaney single-handed, and I
must say that Delaney has the devil's own luck !" He hesitated, and
then added, " ]ook here, youngster, all this is confidential, mind
you ! D' ye remember last Sunday, when Delaney and I found you
after you killed the panther ? Well he had been playing euchre
all the morning with Carr, and must have won like thunder !"
I looked at my watch and found it was three o'clock, so bidding
Mr. Maltby good-bye, I rode back to the creek, and thinking
I might overtake or be overtaken by Midnight and her mistress,
I pushed on at a good pace. But I reached the long avenue with-
out seeing any traces of her, and concluding that I would go on
boldly and wait for her, I fastened my horse near the house. I
rang the bell and Aristophanes showed his black visage in a few
minutes.
" Well, Phany, has Miss Eet come yet?"
" Ko Mars'r walk in, sar !" and he ushered me into the drawing
room. I sat down in the arm chair where she sat yesterday, and
tried to resolve to do right. Maltby had made me happy and
most miserable. She was poor! Heaven be thanked ! But she
was soon to be rich by a marriage, which I felt ought not to be sol-
emnized. What should I do ? What is my DUTY u ? I covered my
face with my hands, and made a baby of myself.
" Lor' bless us ! Is you sick, young mars'r ?" It was Chloe.
"No, Aunty!" said I, starting up and wiping my eyes, " not very.
I have had a dreadful pain just here in my side ; it is better now.
Don't tell any one that you saw me crying over such a little affair;"
and I slipped a dollar into her hand. " How soon do you expect
Miss Harwood P
" She not gwine to come to-day, sar," she replied. " 'Oobus bin
here for oberseer to go over dar. Missee Eet sick !"
KINDRED. 95
" Sick ! Good Heavens ! How sick P
" Only headache/ 7 'Cobus says. " S'poseyou ride over, sar W
" If I could do any good pshaw ! what a fool I ara ! here, Aunt
Chloe, is a package which Miss Eet gave me yesterday. Where
shall I put it ? It is important, and I want to put it in a safe place."
She pulled open a drawer in a secretaire in the room, and I
placed the letters in it, closed and locked it, and put the key in
my pocket.
" I will give the key to Miss Eet, Aunty ," I said, as I came away ;
" did Jacobus go to town after doctor Markham f
"Lor' no! Mars'r Miss Eet don't want doctor for headache!
yah, yah, yah ! S'pose I git you somethin' for pain in your side,
Mars'r am got some first rate yarb tea !"
" Never mind, Aunty, I am pretty well now. Good-bye." I got
my horse, and gave Phany a quarter as he stood grinning at the
gate, and here I am back again. I am learning a hard lesson
I am learning to wait. Oh for patience, and wisdom, and strength,
and manhood !
SABBATH, May 16, 1836.
One week ago I was in the green woods at this hour, careless
and indifferent about everything except present enjoyment. I was
looking forward with a pleasant curiosity to the time when I
should know who Eet was and what she was like. What changes
one short week has wrought ! I am a different man to-day. I am
ten years older. I used to have a theory upon which I reposed with
great complacency. It was this : no contingency can occur in
which I need be doubtful as to my course, so long as my reason
will show me what is honourable and right. And now I am per-
plexed with doubts. I decide finally upon a course, and give my
resolve to the winds an hour later. I find myself saying to my-
self " Let us wait for the emergency, and then it will bo time
enough to decide." But I hear the church bell.
96 HARWOOD.
CHAPTER XVI.
A PARTING.
MONDAY, May 17, 1836.
WHEN I went to the church yesterday I arrived in time to
assist Miss Harwood to alight from Judge Carr's carriage.
Herbert followed, greeting me warmly, and then Mr. Carr. The
latter invited me to sit in his pew. Mr. Hamilton was already in
the pulpit. His manner and the tones of his voice attracted me,
from the utterance of his first short prayer. His text was " Deny
thyself," and I have certainly never heard such a discourse as he
delivered. My attention was riveted. I heard every syllable of
the sermon, which was spoken, not read, and I could now write
down in order the divisions of the discourse, and the arguments
and appeals occurring under each head. I believe a profound and
salutary impression was made upon my mind, for I no longer feel
doubtful or desponding, though I am far from happy. I can wait
for the emergency, and think I shall do right when the emer-
gency comes. After the sermon Mr. Hamilton announced that
there would be service in the afternoon at " Harwood Chapel,"
and, as we came out of the church, Mr. Carr suggested that I
should ride out with them, and if I felt disposed, " I could attend
the service at the chapel." Herbert seconded the invitation on
the instant. I did not accept immediately, waiting for some indi-
cation of Miss Harwood's wishes. I did not get it. She looked at
me inquiringly, and I accepted, saying I would get Charley's
horse and overtake them. I rode beside the carriage, talking and
listening. Eet was quiet, answering when spoken to, but volun-
teering no conversation. When dinner was over she disappeared,
and Herbert and I walked about the grounds, he chattering and
I smoking. I had observed at dinner that I would go to the
chapel if " any of them " were going, and Eet replied that she
would go on Midnight. I was impatient for the hour to arrive. It
came at last, and we started, she and I no groom, for Sunday is
the negro's holiday. If I dared to make such a choice, I could
wish that my life ended when that ride was over. I was weak
enough to be happy while it lasted.
" Where is Harwood chapel?" I inquired, as we entered the
avenue leading to Harwood.
A PARTING. 97
" It is on an edge of the plantation, beyond the house. We go
very nearly by the same road as that we passed over the other
day. The chapel was built by my father, for the accommodation
of the blacks belonging to the three plantations, Manahio, High-
lands and Harwood."
" Then this afternoon's service is for their benefit f
" Yes, but there is always a good attendance of whites, and
ihey are always particularly welcome."
" I hope you have entirely recovered from your indisposition of
yesterday F She looked surprised. " Ohloe told me you were
sick."
" Where did you see Chloe f
" At Harwood. I was there yesterday, hoping to meet you. I
took back the letters. The package is in the right hand drawer
of the secretaire in the drawing room. Here is the key."
" Have you read all these letters *?"
" I have read none of them. I opened the package and saw
that one of the letters was written by Captain Sir Herbert Har-
wood, of the British navy, and I know that he was the grand
uncle of Herbert Harwood, of Baltimore."
"I have suspected as much," she replied, taking the key; "but
I cannot understand why the knowledge of this relationship de-
cided you to return the letters unread."
" Because you were not willing that your relations should know
anything or everything that may be revealed in those letters. I
could not read them, if I regarded my own honour, because one at
least of that family would know all that I could learn from them."
" I thought I made an exception of that one member," she said,
smiling. " I think if you had read the letters you would have
justified my course. However, we will talk about it hereafter.
There is the chapel."
Half a dozen well dressed negroes surrounded us as we rode up
in front of the building, taking possession of the horses, and over-
whelming us with polite attentions. Mr. and Mrs. White, Mr. and
Mrs. Maltby and Mr. Hamilton were standing apart, in the shade
of the trees. We joined them and entered the chapel together.
It is a plain building, weather-boarded on the outside and white-
washed. The " white folks " occupied the front seats, and the
house was soon filled with a well behaved jand attentive audience.
The singing was positively wonderful, though somewhat marred
by the necessity to "line out" the hymns, after the Methodist
7
98 HARWOOD.
fashion. The overseer, Beckett, whom I saw playing cards in
town the other night, was there, and I caught him eyeing me
curiously once or twice. Mr. Hamilton preached a plain, simple
and beautiful Gospel sermon, which was understood by the most
untutored of his listeners. It was near sunset when we started
on our homeward journey, and we rode slowly, enjoying the calm
beauty of the early summer. I talked about the discourse of the
morning, and expressed my admiration of the minister in very
warm terms.
" I have enjoyed to-day's sermons very much," she said, " but I
did not suppose that a discourse on self-denial would have been
considered so appropriate by you."
a Ah, you don't know how much I have been strengthened in
my better purposes by Mr. Hamilton's teachings this morning.
Neither do you know how much I need all the support I can ob-
tain, to keep me in the course of honour and duty."
" I do not know, of course, what particular temptations you may
be called upon to overcome, and if I did, I am not qualified to
counsel you."
" Pardon me, Miss Harwood, but you alone can give me the coun-
sel I need. Don't look at me with such an astonished expression,
or I shall never find courage to go on. I am reluctant to say what
is upon my mind anyhow, because the kindness with which you
have listened to me hitherto is due to the slight service I was .able
to render your brother. Don't interrupt me, please ! I mean to
say that you would never have allowed the present terms of in-
timacy to exist between us if it had not been for that fortunate
accident."
" There are no accidents," she replied.
" I am rejoiced to believe it, and I regard your brother's peril,
from which I was permitted to rescue him, as the interposition of
a kind Providence in my behalf. Otherwise I might never have
known you as well as I know you now."
" I understand you," she said, gently, "and although you speak
slightingly of your instrumentality in saving Herbert, I know from
your own description, as well as from his, that you exposed your
own life to danger. If another had been there, instead of you,
my brother would probably have died. You have spoken very
much in riddles about the matter that interests you. May I ask
you one or two questions f 7
" A thousand."
A PARTING. 99
" Less than that will do," answered she, laughing. " Suppose
you knew that the father of Grace Harwood had been guilty of an
act of peculiar infamy, to which he was instigated, and in the per-
formance of which he had been aided by her mother
" If there is a living man who will dare to say so," I replied,
while I struggled fiercely to keep down the raging tempest her
words had raised in my bosom, " I will slay him like a dog."
"There is no living man that I know of to encounter your sinful
anger. The testimony to this sad story comes from the grave."
By this time I was perfectly calm. I had reflected, even while
she was speaking, and had decided that some strange mystery
was to be cleared up. That such a foul charge could be true of
the noble gentleman I dimly remembered, or of his widow, my
angelic Mother, was simply impossible.
" I was excited by your cruel words, doubly cruel coming from
you, to speak intemperately. Pray, forgive me. I am perfectly
cool now."
" I do not blame you," answered Eet ; " your anger was natural,
considering the relations you sustain to that unhappy family. I
think I shall burn that package of letters
" I charge you not to do so," said I, " interrupting her. " Miss
Harwood, do you believe that I am an honest man and a gen-
tleman P
" Undoubtedly I do," she replied, astonished at my vehemence.
" Then I implore you to intrust me with those letters once more,
and without any restrictions. Nay, let me have them, with the
full certainty that every line shall be read by Herbert Harwood,
the son of the man whose memory they blacken."
"You don't know what you ask. You require me to send un-
utterable misery into the midst of a family of innocent children.
If I had destroyed those papers before I saw you, none of this
could have happened."
" It is you who are in error," I answered; " you don't know how
fatal the mistake would have been if you had destroyed this rec-
ord. I am young, but I have a man's heart and a man's arm. I
will right this dead man's memory and clear the stain upon this
living woman's name. I devote myself to this work, body and
soul. Oh, if you had known that loyal gentleman! Oh, if you
knew that spotless lady ! You would then know, as I know, that
no infamy could ever attach to their names. It is you, you who
shall admit it ! I swear it to you before heaven !"
1,00 HARWOOD.
" I cannot withstan yon/ 7 she answered, as we entered the
grounds at Mauahio, " you, shall have the letters, and do with
them as your honour and conscience shall dictate. You said just
now that I was interested in you on Herbert's account. I am much
more interested in you on your own. Oh, I am so sorry " and I
saw the tears in her eyes by the fading light, as I assisted her
from the saddle, " I am so sorry that I should have been instru-
mental in making you unhappy."
" If I ever know happiness again, in this life, it will be you who
shall confer it upon me. When may I have the letters P
" To-morrow no, on Tuesday. Mr. and Mrs. Maltby will be
here all day to-morrow, and I cannot be absent. Can you wait
till Tuesday F
" Yes, yes. I will come for them on Tuesday afternoon, shall
I ?" and so it was settled. We went into the house. I staid to
tea and then rode home in the night.
TUESDAY, May 18th, 1836.
I don't know how much time I shall have to write, but while I
am waiting for the steamboat, I may as well get as much as I can
recorded. Last night there was a mail from New Orleans, and in
it a letter from Mr. Bayard for me. He says the loss of the Sea
Gull is confirmed, and he wants me to join him on board the " Queen
of the West," which he expected to arrive at Carrville some time
to-night. She is bound for Wheeling or Pittsburg, and I am to go
on ,to Baltimore and New York to collect the insurance and replace
the goods. I went over to Mr. White's this morning, and announced
my intention to leave Carrville to-night, and begged him to take
charge of the Post-office to-day, and let me off. He growled
a good deal at the prospect of making up and assorting mails for
two months, but set me free soon after breakfast. By ten o'clock
I was at Manahio. I found Judge Carr in his library among a
tyuge pile of papers, and accounted for my appearance by saying
that I was going to New York, and came to offer my services if I
could transact any business for him there. " You said, sir," I ob-
served, " that the letter I brought you the other day could only be
answered in person, and I thought 1 might be able to represent you,
if you would like to entrust me with the business." He was evi-
dently pleased with the attention, and expressed himself in polite
terms, as under great obligations to me. Selecting the letter from
tiie mass of papers before him, he requested me to read it. It is
as follows:
A PARTING. 101
" NEW YORK, May 1, 1836.
" DEAR SIR : I have at last got entire control of the mine, and,
according to agreement, I offer you one-fourth interest. The total
cost, with expenses, is about two thousand dollars 5 your propor-
tion being, of course, one-fourth of that sum. I am sure the profit
will be good, and it may be enormous. If you accept, let me hear
from you (with remittance) on or before 30th June. I shall not
be able to keep the stock beyond that date.
" Very respectfully yours,
"GEORGE CALLAHAN."
" Now, Mr. Hubbard, it is not a long story. Mr. Callahan is a
stock broker in Wall street. About a year ago I was in New
York, and he and two other gentlemen were negotiating for this
mine. From his representations I was induced to promise to take
a fourth part of it if it should prove as good as the} 7 predicted. If
I could go there I would be governed by circumstances. If I was
not satisfied that the investment was a good one I should not
hesitate to decline it 5 and I would not be misled by the visionary
schemes of speculators. Will you, can you spare the time neces-
sary to look thoroughly into the affair f If so, take the letter and.
act for me according to your judgment."
"I will attend to this business with great pleasure, sir," I
answered, " and if the money must be paid I shall have control of
a sufficient sum from the insurances I am to collect, and you can
either settle with me when I return or remit it to New York."
" I thank you very much, sir," he replied, rising as I was about
to leave him. " I suppose I need not ask you to dine with me, as
you say you must hasten back. Good-bye, sir ; I hope you will-
have a pleasant trip, and that we shall soon have you back
again."
As I rode away I saw Master Herbert with a fishing rod strolling
down the drive. I had not asked for his sister, because I intended
to go straight to Harwood and wait for her, as I knew she would
go there for the letters. I called out to the boy as I approached
him " Hello, cousin Herbert, don't get drowned again to-day ; I
shall not be able to pull you out. Farewell ! I am going North
to-night."
'" W'hen are you coming back ?"
" In about two months. Is your sister home T J
" No. She went to Harwood half an hour ago."
102 HARWOOD.
" Well, I must be off. Tell Charley good-bye for me."
I reckon Charley's horse thought some bad words as he flew
along the road to Harwood. I threw the bridle to Jake, who was
fastening Midnight to the rack, and walked up 011 to the veran-
dah, and through the French window into the drawing roqjn.
Bet was seated at the secretaire fitting the key to the Jock when
I entered. She started, and uttered some exclamation when she
saw me.
"I hope you will pardon me, Miss Harwood, for coming so
abruptly, but I am much hurried. I am going away to-night."
" Going away !" She pushed the chair back, and looked at me
earnestly.
" Yes ; I start for Baltimore to-night on business. I shall be-
away two months, perhaps longer ; I hope you will not forget me/
" I shall not forget you," she answered, very quietly.
" You will give me the letters T 7 She opened the drawer and
handed me the package. " Thank you. If I never come back I
will destroy them. If I do come back I will return them to you."
" I understood you to say that you would be back this sum-
mer," she said, in the same quiet tone. " Why do you now say
you may not return F
" Because I will not look upon your face again if I fail to un-
ravel the dark mystery that is hidden in this packet."
" There is nothing in the letters that can possibly affect you,"
said Ket ; " if you fail to disprove the things that trouble you, there
are many compensations, even in this life, for all its disappoint-
ments."
" There is more than life involved in these fatal letters. I
would rather die a thousand deaths than believe what you say
they reveal. But I shall not fail ! Farewell ! and may you be as
happy as I wish you to be. If I am not permitted to see you
again, you may perhaps be happier in the reflection that one mise-
rable man is less miserable because he can remember you and
your kindness."
" Must you go f she said hurriedly, as I moved away.
" Yes. better that I should ! Words are trying to break from me
that should not be spoken! Will you forgive the presumption
if I ask you one question, personal to you alone f She did not
answer, but looked steadily at me. u Well, I will not ask it. I
prefer leaving you with a kind expression on your face. Do you
wish me to succeed in my effort to make you think as I think of
your kindred in Baltimore F
A BUNDLE OF LETTEKS. 103
a I will pray for your success every day while you are gone
and also that you may have grace to endure that which you can-
not avert or change."
She paused then said suddenly " What did you wish to ask
nie?"
" I heard that you would be married very soon, is it true?"
She became pale as a lily then blushed very red. I thought
she pouted.
" I do not expect to be married very soon."
" Not this summer P
u Not this summer. 77
" Thank God P and I rushed out of the house. I wonder if she
thinks I am a lunatic.
There is the steamboat bell !
A BUNDLE OF LETTERS.
LETTER I.
H. M. S. ORPHEUS, i
OFF MALTA, December 1, 1800. }
To JOHN HARWOOD, Esqr., London.
My dear John : I hear bad news of you, my boy. You and
Barnard have been quarrelling again ! What shall I say to you,
you young lubber ? If I could only get at you with a rope's end
I should die happy. I know you will have excuses enough, but
there can be no satisfactory excuse. How is it that Allen, who
has always been a good lad, can avoid these quarrels, while you,
you fiery young puppy, are always getting into them I When I
was at your age I never had any fights except with my brothers.
If I had lived in the same house with cousins I think I should
have lived at peace the year round. Your father and Allen's
father used to combine forces to thrash me, but they never did it,
my boy ! I suppose it is all right and natural for brothers to fight
a little, but it is heinous for cousins to squabble. Now, just for
the sake of argument, let us suppose a case. Suppose it were true
that Barnard was always in the wrong, and that you were always
in the right ? Even then you might consider your aunt's peace of
104 EARWOOD.
mind, and endure a little for her sake. But I won't scold any
more.
There is some prospect of relief from this cruising ground for
the old Orpheus. I am told that my ship will be ordered home
soon, and it is hinted that I shall have sailing orders in another
direction. It will be very pleasant to be among you young
scamps, even for a few months, and if I have no more ill accounts
in the meantime, there will be a grand distribution of guineas at
Harwood House when I come ! I don't expect this hint to have
any salutary effect upon you, however, but just let Barnard know
what is in prospect, and perhaps he will behave better. I expect
you to keep straight from love to your old uncle. If you are still
bent upon your American explorations, I shall not oppose you,
though it is a wild goose chase. But youngsters won't learn in
any other school than the school of experience.
There is a regular Levanter blowing to-day, and the ship is roll-
ing tremendously, so that writing is no easy task. If the wind
holds, and I get my orders, I can slip through the straits in a
jiffy ! Tour affectionate uncle,
HERBERT HARWOOD.
LETTER II.
H. M. S. ORPHEUS, )
OFF MALTA, December 1, 1800 )
To LADY ANNE HARWOOD, London.
Dearest Anne : I enclose two letters to the boys, which you will
please seal and deliver to them, after possessing yourself of the con-
tents. From your account, I feel sure that Barnard is altogether to
blame, and Allen's letter, which I also enclose, strengthens this im-
pression. You will see from my letter to John, that I have hopes of
seeing you in a few months, and if the necessary repairs are put upon
the ship, I shall perhaps be with you the greater part of next year.
I need not tell you, dear wife, that the prospect is very cheering to
an old sea dog, who has been knocking and being knocked about
the world for two long years, in which time he has been far from
home and kindred. The changes in the Government, to which you
refer, cannot affect me very materially. If we are going to have a
peaceful time, and I am no more to hear the roar of the Orpheus's
broadsides, I shall hang up my sword in the library at Harwood
A BUNDLE OF LETTERS. 105
House, and retire upon half pay. To tell you the truth, I am con-
cerned about those young whelps at home. John is so violent and
impulsive that I am continually expecting to hear of some mad
exploit of his that may embitter his whole future life. I know-
that all his instincts are generous and noble, and if he is properly
managed and controlled, he will add honour to the old name. I
understand your hint about promotion, &c. Women are always
ambitious ! But I am entirely indifferent about such vain gewgaws.
It is enough to belong to the race from which I sprang, and I
really believe I accepted the little title I received with the peace-
ful stroke of His Majesty's sword only to please you. Sir Her-
bert Harwood, knight, is no greater personage in niy opinion than
plain Captain Harwood was ; and, as for money, we have more
than enough for all probable contingencies. You know my income
has nearly doubled since I received my inheritance, and I have
been able to lay aside 5,000 for each of the boys and Alice, with-
out impairing my estate one bit. I want this to go to Allen, as
good as it was when I received it, and, maybe, far better. Allen
does not know anything about my will 5 of course, you will not
tell him. There will be another mail bag in a week or so, by the
Chester, and I will write again.
Your devoted husband,
HERBERT HARWOOD.
LETTER III.
LONDON, October 9, 1800.
To CAPTAIN SIR HERBERT HARWOOD, H. M. S. Orpheus, Medi-
terranean Squadron.
My dear Uncle: Aunt Anne does not know that I am writing
to you, and I thought you could tell her yourself, if you wish her
to know what I write about. I have been here about two weeks;
all the rest are at Harwood House, and I shall be able to get back
in a few days. Dear Uncle, I am sorry to say that Barnard and
John don't get along together at all, and I wish now that you had
carried out your plan, and sent them to different schools. I don't
care which one goes with me, but I hope you won't send us alt
three together. Barnard has got Aunt Anne's permission to go
106 HARWOOD.
down to Scotland to shoot. He was invited by the young Laird
I wrote you about last month, Macallan, of Linmuir. You know
his place is somewhere near Glasgow. Uncle, he is another bad
fellow, arid a great deal worse because he has plenty of pocket
money. He and Barnard are very intimate, and I think Alice
likes this Scotchman very much. I don't believe Aunt Anne will
tell you about the last quarrel between John and Barnard. It
was all on account of Macailan, who came in to dinner one day
quite drunk! He is only seventeen or eighteen, though he is a
big fellow. Aunt Anne had Lord and Lady Morton to dinner
that day, and John tried to persuade the other boys to stay in
their rooms, as they were not fit to be seen in respectable society.
He offered to stay with them, and so did I. Macallan swore at us
dreadfully, and said he meant to " walk down with Leddy Morton,
who was na fit to be married to sic an auld pike as my Lord."
Barnard encouraged him, and told John he was a low fellow, and
not a proper person to associate with gentlemen. I managed to
get John away that time, but after dinner he and Barnard had it
out. Macallan behaved so improperly at the table, that Aunt
Anne had to reprove him, and at last told Barnard " to take Mr.
Macallan out with him, as he was evidently not well." We were
all four out in the park in the evening, and before we came in
John had thrashed both of them. The Scotchman could not use
his fists at all, but Barnard fought pretty well. John is such a
tiger when he is in a rage that all the school boys are afraid of
him 5 but he is not a bit quarrelsome, and only had four fights last
half. I had more than that myself.
I don't think Aunt Anne will allow Barnard to invite his friend
to Harwood House any more. It surprises me that Alice should
see anything to admire in him ; but she accompanies him and Bar-
nard on all sorts of expeditions, whenever Aunt Anne will allow
her to go. I wish you would not send me any more cheques, dear
Uncle, until I ask you for them. I have more money now than I
know what to do with. If you had not forbidden it, I should like
to divide my surplus cash between John and Barnard ; but Alice
is my banker, and she has ever so many guineas of mine now
stowed away for hard times.
Your affectionate nephew,
ALLEN HARWOOD.
A BUNDLE OF LETTERS. 107
LETTER IV.
LONDON, November 1,1800.
To Master BARNARD HARWOOD, Linmuir, near Glasgow, Scotland.
Sir : I see no impropriety in answering the questions you put in
your letter of 15th ultimo. There is no need to mark communica-
tions of this sort " private and confidential," inasmuch as all let-
ters addressed to lawyers upon private business are so regarded.
There is no entail. Sir Herbert has full control of his property.
If, however, he should die without a will, the estate, or that por-
tion of it which your uncle received by inheritance, would descend,
first, to your cousin Allen, next to your cousin John, and lastly to
yourself. You young gentlemen occupy precisely the same posi-
tion with regard to the estate as that occupied by your respective
fathers. Lady Harwood's annuity would probably absorb about
one-half of the revenues. In regard to Miss Alice More, there has
never been any formal and legal adoption, and I presume Sir Her-
bert's will would make provision for her. She is the daughter of
a brother officer of Captain Harwood's, who was killed in battle,
when both he and Captain Harwood were lieutenants. She has
no inheritance whatever, that I know of. If Sir Herbert had made
a will, and the instrument was in my charge, you are aware that
I could not with propriety reveal to any one any of its provisions.
I am, sir, very respectfully, your obedient servant,
TITUS PARCHMENT,
Solicitor, <&c.
LETTER Y.
H. M. S. ORPHEUS, >
OFF MALTA, December 10, 1800. J
To LADY ANNE HARWOOD, London.
My dear Anne : I have only time to write a line by the Chester,
and that is to announce that the Orpheus follows in her wake. I
received my orders to-day, and shall set sail for old England to-
morrow. The Chester will beat us a week or more. I shall go di-
rect to London, and thence to Harwood House. If these plaguey
orders had only come a month sooner, I might have eaten Christ-
mas dinner with you.
Your devoted husband,
HERBERT HARWOOD.
103 HAEWOOD.
LETTER VI.
LONDON, December 20, 1800.
To BARNARD HARWOOD, Esq., Linmuir, near Glasgow, Scotland.
Sir : I am not in possession of any information in regard to
a settlement of 5,000 upon you or upon Miss More. If Sir Her-
bert lias made, or intends to make any such settlement, he has
kept the matter entirely to himself. I would respectfully suggest,
if you deem it advisable and proper to institute an investigation
on this subject, that you direct your inquiries to your uncle him-
self. While your motives may be perfectly justifiable, you at least
lay yourself liable to unfavourable impressions, produced upon the
minds of your friends, by your continued attempts to obtain the
information you want, outside of your own family.
I am, sir, very respectfully, your obedient servant,
TITUS PARCHMENT,
/Solicitor, &c.
LETTER VII.
LONDON, December 20, 1800.
To BARNARD HARWOOD, Esq., Linmuir, near Glasgow, Scotland.
Sir : We never reveal the condition of any of our accounts to
second parties. Should Sir Herbert Harwood desire to know the
balance in our hands, he must, under our invariable rules, apply
to us directly, or through his known solicitor, Titus Parchment,
Esq.
We are, sir, very respectfully, yours,
GARY, BULLION & Co.,
Bankers.
LETTER VIII.
HARWOOD HOUSE, December 21, 1800.
To BARNARD HARWOOD, Esq., Linmuir, near Glasgow, Scotland.
Dear Barnard : We are all surprised, and some of us grieved,
that you should decide to be absent at Christmas. Mother thinks
it possible that father may be home, as we know that his ship has
been ordered to Portsmouth. Lord Morton says he may be here
any day now. I burnt your letter to me, as you requested. Are
A BUNDLE OF LETTERS. 109
you sure that you know your own heart on that subject ? I am
too old for you, Barnard ; five years older than you are, and you
are only fifteen. If it were possible to get your uncle's consent to
such a marriage, you would have to wait at least six years, and
then I would be twenty-six. I do love you very dearly, certainly,
but I have never thought of you as a possible husband. Do you
know that I shall have positively no fortune at all I My poor father
had nothing but his pay, and all that I have had since his death
I have received from my second father, Sir Herbert. It is possi-
ble that he would give me a portion, if I married with his consent,
but I am sure he would think your proposal to engage yourself to
me nothing else than insanity. I am not mistaken about the
5,000 laid aside for you and your cousins. I saw one of father's
letters, in which he said he had put this sum away for each of you.
You will have to return to us before long, as your uncle will cer-
tainly be home within a month. We will talk further about your
absurd proposals, when you come.
Affectionately yours,
ALICE MORE.
LETTER IX.
LONDON, June 1,1801.
To SIR HERBERT HARWOOD, Bart., Harwood House, Essex.
Dear Sir Herbert : I am very happy to address you under your
new title, which, I see by the papers, has at last been conferred
upon you. You will allow an old friend to say that he is disap-
pointed. I expected you to change your knighthood for something
better than a baronetcy. However, it may be only a stepping
stone. I have obeyed your instructions, and have taken a thous-
and shares of Wheal Pentland in the name of your nephew, Mr.
Allen Harwood. Your cheque for 5,000 exactly pays for the
stock. I hope his trip to Cornwall has not damaged his intellect.
Though as you require me to keep the secret of this investment,
perhaps he don't know how rich he is to be. I have filed the cer-
tificate with your other papers in my possession. Will you allow
me to say (in confidence) that your nephew, Barnard, will be all
the better for your presence in England, if you will keep him out
of bad company ?
Faithfully your friend and servant,
TITUS PARCHMENT.
110 HAEWOOD.
LETTER X.
NEW ORLEANS, LOUISIANA, May 1, 1803.
To LADY ANNE HARWOOD, Harwood House, Essex.
My dear Anne : We are back in this Frenchified city, after a
regular cruise up the muddy river on which it stands. John is so
infatuated that he declares his desire to remain here all his life. I
have been with him I don't know how far up the river, and have
bought him a lot of land back in the country. It is pretty much
wilderness now, and I must admit that it is very beautiful. He
has called it " Harwood." It has cost a good lot of money, though
the property dealers here say it was a great bargain. I have con-
sented to let him remain here, as he is so eager to begin to work
his "plantation." By-the-bye, John is an American citizen by
birth, you know. I wonder if that will account for his preference
for this half-civilized country ! My poor brother, who was sent to
Canada on some public business, contracted the disease of which
he died in that cold latitude, and his wife died in the States when
John was born. John has resumed his law studies, and will- re-
main in this city most of his time, until he passes his examination.
He expects to be "admitted" in two years. There are not so
many formalities to get through with, and I suppose the examina-
tion is not so rigid here as at home. The birth of my son and
heir has not affected the prospects of any of the boys, except
Allen, who has a small fortune already, though he does not know
it. Do you remember that he came from Cornwall two years ago,
with flaming accounts of some copper mines? I invested his
5,000 in mining stock, and it has more than doubled in value
already. I intend to keep this secret till all of them are of age.
I suppose I shall have to give up my project of getting Barnard
into the Navy, as he seems to have no bias in that direction.
But as he has become so steady and well behaved he shall choose
his own profession. If the predictions of the knowing ones of
New Orleans may be relied upon, John's fortune is also made, as
the prospective value of his estate up the river is enormous.
I am happy to hear such good accounts of my youngster, the
future Sir Charles. Since I have acquired a title to transmit, I
may as well give it to the embryo baronet in advance. I hope
he will value it as lightly as his father does.
Your devoted husband,
HERBERT HARWOOD.
A BUNDLE OF LETTERS. Ill
LETTER XI.
LONDON, July 10, 1804.
To SIR HERBERT HARWOOD, Bart., Harwood House, Essex.
My dear Sir Herbert : Witli this I send by special messenger
the lead-covered box containing the ancient coins and jewelry;
the box has probably never been opened since it was bequeathed
to Mr. Allen's mother until to-day, when I took an inventory of
its contents. Some of the diamonds must be of great value, and
the coins are also very rare and would fetch double their weight
in guineas any day. You will remember that the box was sent to
me from the executors of Lady Denham, for transmission to Mrs.
Lacy Harwood, who died before the packet was sent. Since that
sad event I have had charge of it, keeping it by your directions
as guardian, until Mr. Allen should attain his majority. The only
other property belonging to the estate of Lacy Harwood, Esq., or
rather to his son and heir, Mr. Allen, is the certificate of 1,000
shares of Wheal Pentland. I have enclosed this certificate in the
box also, with the inventory of jewels and coins. The key is fast-
ened to one of the handles, and the box has been sewed up in a
strong linen case by Mrs. Parchment under my supervision. I
have also inclosed it in thick outside wrappings, corded it and
sealed it. If you receive it with the seals intact, you can rely
upon the safety of the contents.
Very sincerely, your friend and obed't serv't,
TITUS PARCHMENT.
(The following was written in Sir Herbert's hand at the bottom
of this letter:)
I have not opened the box. It is on the hypothenuse just nine
feet from its juncture with the base.
HERBERT HARWOOD.
April 30, 1808.
LETTER XII.
NEW ORLEANS, May 10, 1808.
To LADY ANNE HARWOOD, Harwood House, Essex, England.
My dearest Anne .-Allen and I will return to England by the
next packet. John is fairly settled on his plantation, living in a
comfortable log house, which he affirms to be superior in accom-
modation to all the buildings in this city. He is practising law,
112 HARWOOD.
and is very popular with his neighbours. I have not bought a
plantation for -Allen, as I cannot discover that he has the slightest
desire to possess one. He has enjoyed himself as much as possi-
ble, with John and his friends, hunting wild beasts in the country
back of " Harwood," and narrowly escaping with his life in two
separate encounters, one with a bear, the other with an Indian.
The latter adventure however happened on the west bank of the
big river. He shall tell you and Alice the story himself. I have
kept the secret of his little fortune from him, and everybody else
excepting you and Parchment. I wished him to come to some
decision about his future before I put him in possession. I think
this is the last trip I shall take in this direction. I was compelled
by circumstances to put Allen's lead-covered box in a place of
security, and have made a memorandum on Parchment's letter,
which I will explain to you when I get home.
If you should be correct in your suspicion that Macailan wishes
to marry Alice, I shall be glad to give my consent. The lad has
become quite steady, and with a good wife like Alice (who is too
old for him, though), he will become settled. I take it for granted
that Barnard has given up his boyish notion. The birth of my
two boys has made some change necessary in my intentions, but
I still propose to give Barnard a good start in life. He is quite
old enough now to make up his mind.
Tour devoted husband,
HERBERT HARWOOD.
LETTER XIII.
LrNMUiR, August 1, 1808.
To LADY ANNE HARWOOD, Harwood House, Essex.
My Lady : Can you spare dear Alice for a few weeks ? I have
set my heart upon having her with me while the young gentlemen
are here. Macailan expects Mr. Barnard about the middle of the
month. If he comes, and you can oblige me so much, he can
escort Miss More. I would offer my son's services, as he is now
in London, but suppose you would prefer the other arrangement.
I will promise to allow her to return at whatever time your lady-
ship may appoint.
I am your ladyship's servant,
HESTER MACAELAN.
A BUNDLE OF LETTERS. 113
LETTER XIV.
LONDON, August 3, 1808.
To BARNARD HARWOOD, Esq., Harwood House, Essex.
Mon Cher : My mother is going to invite Miss Alice to Lin-
mtiir, and as I am so disreputable a scamp she will arrange for
you to attend her to Glasgow. You are to go down on the 15th.
I have not been able to learn anything from the old wretch of a
lawyer. Denham was with me when I called on him. He was
speering about some lead-covered box which was left by will to
your dear Uncle. Lacy's widow by his stepmother. Denham is
such a close fellow that I could not pump much out of him, but I
think he claims some jewels, which he affirms were in the box,
and which he says were " family jewels," and not in her power to
bequeath. The lawyer gave us no satisfaction j he did not even
admit the receipt of the box, and referred Denham to his mother's
executors. From the few hints he dropped, I conclude that Den-
ham was about as fond of his stepmother as the devil is of holy
water, or as you are of your cousin John. Sir Herbert and your
nice cousin Allen will be here in a week, and old Parchment
politely invited me to reserve my inquiries till they arrived !
I am. off to Linmuir to-morrow.
Yours, MACALLAN.
LET TER XV.
LONDON, August 4, 1808.
To LADY ANNE HARWOOD, Harwood House, Essex.
My dear Lady Anne : Although Sir Herbert will be here in a
few days, I think it advisable to notify you that I have been ap-
plied to by the son of Sir Mark Denham, who claims some prop-
erty (personal) which was bequeathed to Mrs. Lacy Harwood by
Lady Denham, the stepmother of this young man. It is possible
that he may apply to you in Sir Herbert's absence, and I only
wish to say that the claim is entirely ridiculous. It is well known
that Sir Mark Denham married his second wife solely for money,
and it is also well known that every pound of her property was
settled upon her. I drew the marriage settlement myself. There
has never been any controversy about her real estate, which went
8
114 HARWOOD.
to her heir-at-law, or about her money, stocks, etc., which were
distributed according to the provisions of her will. Nobody knew
anything about the contents of this particular box until I opened
it at Sir Herbert's request, about four years ago. It is as clearly
Allen's property as his coat is. If this young Denhara should
apply to you, I would respectfully advise that you give him no
information whatever. I can imagine no possible way by whicli
he could learn that the box contained any articles of value except
through Sir Herbert or some member of his household. Should
Sir Herbert go to Harwood House before I see him, please show
him this letter
With great respect, your ladyship's obedient servant,
TITUS PARCHMENT,
Solicitor, etc.
LETTER XVI.
LONDON, 10th August, 1808.
To SIR HERBERT HARWOOD, Bart., Harwood House, Essex.
Sir : In reply to your inquiry, left at our banking house last
night, we have to inform you that the exact balance standing at
your credit is 11,080 18s. 4d.
Yery respectfully yours,
GARY, BULLION & Co.,
Bankers.
-
TTER XVII.
LONDON, 2Sth September, 1808.
To SIR HERBERT HARWOOD, Bart., Harwood House, Essex.
Sir: Your cheque for 1,000 to order of Mr. Allen Harwood
was presented by that gentleman yesterday and paid. According
to our invariable rule, we hereby notify you that your account is
overdrawn to the amount of 224 6s. Sd. The dividends that will
be paid in on 1st proximo will, however, place your account
largely in credit.
Yery respectfully yours,
GARY, BULLION & Co.,
Bankers.
A BUNDLE OF LETTERS. 115
LETTE R XVIII.
LONDON, September 28, 1808.
To SIR HERBERT HARWOOD, Bart., Harwoocl House, Essex.
My dear Uncle : The ship will sail this forenoon, and I write
this on board. I have drawn the money for the cheque, and have
it now buckled around my waist. As soon as we get fairly out at
sea I shall place it in my trunk, as the weight of the belt makes
it a very undesirable part of my dress. My dear, kind uncle, I
may not live to see you again, and I would not willingly die with-
out saying how deeply I feel all your kindness to me. I know
from Aunt Anne that you intended me to be your successor in
the possession of Harwood House and of most of the fortune
you have added to your original inheritance. I know you will be-
lieve me when I say that I rejoice with all my heart that those
plans of yours were disarranged by the birth of my dear little
cousins, Charles and Allen. And now I am going to communicate
an old secret to you. You know that I accumulated a consider-
able quantity of guineas in the hands of my trusty banker, Alice;
well, after I came from Cornwall, seven years ago, I took this
money and invested it all in Wheal Pentland. I sold out yester-
day, and there is another thousand pounds in my belt, besides
your munificent gift. So you see, dear uncle, that I am rich. I
tell you the secret now because I know you will be better satisfied
to allow your estate to go to the boys unincumbered with any un-
necessary legacies. Barnard told me you had laid aside a sum
for each of us, but as I am already provided for so amply, you can
mark me off. You cannot obliterate the lessons I have learned
from your example, uncle, nor can you take back the education
you have given me.
What do you think of my having a young lady confided to my
care, all tjie way to Calcutta ? She is the orphan daughter of a
dissenting minister, who died here six or eight months ago. She
has an uncle in India, who has invited her to his home, and her
friends here are now in the cabin with her. They introduced me
a little while ago. She is very pretty and interesting, and I mean
to fall in love with her during the voyage. Her name is Miss
Devere.
I am just informed that the steamboat is about to leave the
ship. Good-bye, my dear uncle.
Your attached nephew,
ALLEN HARWOOD.
116 HAEWOOD.
LETTER XIX.
LONDON, October 3, 1808.
To LADY ANNE HARWOOD, Harwood House, Essex.
My dear Anne : I have only time to write a line. It is a for-
gery of ono cheque for 10,000. I start for Scotland by the coach
in five iniuuteis. Your devoted husband,
HERBERT HARWOOD.
LETTER XX.
GLASGOW, October 10, 1808.
To LADY ANNE HARWOOD, Harwood House, Essex.
My dear Wife : The news I have to communicate to you will
plunge you into .affliction. I cannot doubt any longer that Bar-
nard and Alice have conspired to perpetrate a most infamous
.crime. When I reached London last week I went directly to the
bank, and demanded a sight of the cheques I had drawn since
they furnished me with their last statement. All were right ex-
cepting one for 10,000. This cheque was a remarkably correct
imitation of my hand, and I should not think of doubting the sig-
nature if I did not know that I had never drawn such a cheque.
It is payable to Barnard Har wood's order, and endorsed by him.
I asked no questions at the bank, but went directly to Parchment
and stated the case. He recommended me to start at once for
Glasgow, and recover the money from my nephew, without making
any stir. It would kill me if the boy's villany should be generally
known. I met Mr. Macailan at the coach office in this town, and
he informed me that Barnard and Alice were married before they
arrived at Linmuir together; that they had gone to London
after spending a few days with them, and had taken passage for
Leghorn. He knew nothing about Barnard's supply of money,
except that he declined a loan which the Scotchman says he
offered him. Barnard told him that he could not live without
Alice, and that I had violently opposed their union, so they were
forced to abscond.
How much of this account is true I cannot determine. I know
that part of it is false. Lord Morton has been here jus.t a week,
and he saw Barnard and talked with him since his arrival at Glas-
A BUNDLE OF LETTERS, 117
gow. He informs me that Barnard and Alice were staying at the
same inn with him. I have been there and found his portfolio,
containing a number of letters. I suppose he left it in the hurry
of his departure. I shall remain a few days, and if I discover no
satisfactory traces of them I intend to return to London and get
Parchment to put one of his bloodhounds on the scent only to
discover the whereabouts of the unhappy pair, however. I shall
acknowledge the cheque. They have only stolen that which I
have long intended to give them ; but their heartless disregard of
you and me, and of the name they bear, cuts me to the quick.
Your devoted husband,
HERBERT HARWOOD.
LETTER XXI.
LONDON, December 2, 1808.
To SIR HERBERT HARWOOD, Bart., Harwood House, Essex.
My dear Sir Herbert : My clerk, Mr. Blinker, has just returned
from Scotland, and I hasten to lay before you the result of his in-
vestigations, premising that you may rely upon the accuracy of
his statements, and the soundness of his deductions. My instruc-
tions to him, which have been faithfully observed, precluded the
possibility of exciting any suspicions upon the minds of the parties
with whom he came in contact ; and now that the facts are elicited,
there is no reason to suppose that any one will ever hear of the
transactions, excepting those immediately concerned. I have in-
structed Mr. Blinker to furnish me with a written statement of his
proceedings, and I now enclose that statement. You have only
to account for your nephew's marriage and absence from Eng-
land, and I presume you have already decided to allow the simple
truth on this point to go to the world, namely : that your nephew,
having married contrary to your express wishes, has gone abroad
with his bride, having received the portions you had laid aside for
both himself and your adopted daughter.
I am, my dear Sir Herbert, very faithfully your friend and ser-
vant,
TITUS PARCHMENT.
P. S. I beg you to observe that I have taken my son, Alfred
Parchment, into partnership, as indicated in the annexed circular.
In any emergency, during my absence from London, you may safcly
intrust to him any business that would be confided to his father.
118 HAEWOOD.
LETTEK XXII.
To TITUS PARCHMENT, Esq., Solicitor, &c., London.
Honoured Sir : In re, Sir H. H. and others. Acting under your
instructions (verbal), I have obtained all the information you re-
quired concerning the payment of a cheque for 10,000 drawn by
the aforesaid Sir H. H. to the order of, and endorsed by Mr. B.
H., and also concerning the subsequent movements of the said B.
H and others.
My brother, Silas Blinker, is a clerk in the banking house of
C. B. & Co., and as it was necessary that I should obtain the facts
without asking questions to excite suspicions, I was compelled
to spend two consecutive evenings at my brother's house, and
allow him to reveal voluntarily all that I now proceed to com-
municate. I was also obliged to lay three separate wagers (in a
friendly way), and to lose all three, involving an outlay of eighteen
shillings. This amount and other small amounts you will find in
the enclosed schedule of expenses.
On the fifteenth day of August, of the present year, Sir H. H.'s
coach stopped at the banking house before mentioned, at 11.10 A.
M. Five shillings were expended in the wager relating to the
accuracy of this date. Mr. B. H. descended from the coach, leav-
ing Miss A. M. inside, and entering the front office, presented the
cheque, remarking that he was in haste, as he wished to catch the
Oxford mail, which started precisely at noon. The cheque was
paid as soon as he had written his name across the back. The
other thirteen shillings were expended in two wagers, one as to the
identity of Miss A. M., and the other as to the fact that there was
no Oxford mail that left the city at noon. There was a mail to
Uxbridge, which started from the Eed Ox Inn at that hour. I
went on the third day direct to Glasgow, according to your di-
rections, stopping only once, at Dumfries, where I saw the mar-
riage of B. H. and A. M. duly registered, according to the Scotch
law, under date of August 19th, 1808. I put up at the Thistle Inn,
in Glasgow, at which place Mr. and Mrs. B. H. had spent ten days,
namely : from the 25th of September to the 5th of October. They
had been to the wild country called " the Highlands" for nearly a
month previously, and had spent three days at Linmuir, before
they came to the Thistle. They went from Glasgow to Liverpool,
aud took passage a*nd sailed in the ship Tempest, for Baltimore, in
A BUNDLE OF LETTERS 119
the United States of North America. The ship sailed on the llth
of October.
The most of this information I obtained from the agent of a
Scotch gentleman, who lives near Glasgow, and although I asked
no questions whatever, lie asked a great number of me, and the
evidence in the case I was obliged to gather from the inquiries he
propounded. As I was careful to corroborate everything by
additional testimony, you may rely upon the facts stated.
This 2d day of December, 1808.
Very respectfully your humble servant,
SAMUEL BLINKER.
LETTER XXIII.
LONDON, March 26, 1810.
To SIR HERBERT HARWOOD, Bart., Harwood House, Essex.
My dear Friend : It is my painful duty to communicate to you
intelligence of the most sorrowful character. Your noble nephew,
Allen, is no more. The account of the circumstances attending his
death I have obtained from the master of the ill-fated ship in which
he sailed for Calcutta. I know that you have long been ill at ease,
as no news of this vessel has reached England since she was spoken
off the Cape, more than a year ago. She was attacked in March
of last year by a French privateer, and escaped capture after an
obstinate fight of several hours 7 duration. She carried four guns,
and the men fought with a valour becoming British seamen. One
of the masts of the privateer was at last carried away by a fortu-
nate shot, and the ludiaman escaped in the darkness of the night.
But poor Allen had been very severely and probably fatally
wounded early in the action, and when the storm arose in the
night, he was lying helpless in the cabin, apparently near his end.
The ship had been much damaged by the Frenchman's shot, and
was altogether unsea worthy, when the master and crew decided
to abandon her in the boats, as she was evidently sinking. A
young lady passenger, a Miss Devere, refused to leave the wreck
unless Allen was also taken, and from the shipmaster's account,
the two boats, all they had that could live in that sea, were already
overladen. He also refused to forsake the ship, and the crew,
120 HARWOOD.
probably mutinous, had pushed off and left the three to their
fate. Later in the night, when the storm had somewhat abated,
he was able, with the young lady's assistance, to lower the small
boat, into which he managed, with great difficulty, to get some
water and provisions. He says he was in the boat stowing the
kegs, when a sea struck her, and parted the line by which the boat
was fastened to the ship. By the time he had got out his oars he
had lost the ship in the darkness. The brave fellow endeavoured to
keep near the vessel until daylight, when he could find no vestige
of the Hesperus in sight. He admits that he might have drifted
to a considerable distance from the wreck in the night, but says
positively that she must have gone down within a few hours after
he left her side. He was picked up three days afterwards by the
same privateer, and was compelled to do an ordinary seaman's
duty on board, until a few months ago, when the privateer was
captured by a British man-of-war. He came to London from Ports-
mouth only yesterday, and was brought to me by Lord Morton
this morning.
There are two facts .connected with this melancholy story that
afford some slight gleam of com fort. As soon as the character of the
privateer was ascertained, Allen was the first to propose a deter-
mined resistance ; and volunteering to assume any post that the
master deemed him competent to fill, he was given command of
one of the guns, and fought with the bravery of a lion, until he
was carried senseless into the cabin. He fell, my dear friend, as
you would have him fall, fighting the enemies of his country. The
other fact is, that the intercourse of five or six months had pro-
duced a profound mutual attachment between Allen and Miss
Devere. This young lady must have been a very superior woman,
well worthy of the devotion of such a man as Allen. Consider,
my friend, that while we have been so sadly bereaved, they went
through the dark valley together.
With great sympathy your friend,
TITUS PARCHMENT.
LETTER XXIV.
LONDON, April 1, 1810.
To JOHN HARWOOD, Esq., Baton Rouge, Louisiana, U. S. America.
Dear Sir: I am requested by Sir Herbert Harwood to write to
you in his name, to inform you of the sudden death of your aunt,
A BUNDLE OF LETTERS. 121
Lady Harwood, and also of the loss of the ship Hesperus on her
voyage to India, with all her passengers and crew, excepting the
master of the vessel. Your cousin, Allen Harwood, was passen-
ger in this ship. Lady Harwood's health has been failing for some
time past, and the intelligence of Allen's death probably hastened
her demise. Under this double affliction Sir Herbert is nearly in-
consolable. He has just been offered the command of a ship, and
I have no doubt he will accept the position. There is no proba-
bility that the war will terminate for years to come, and Sir Her-
bert will find in the active duties of his old profession the most
agreeable deliverance from the scenes of his recent sorrows. He
desires me to convey to you the assurance of his affection. If he
accepts his appointment, he proposes to leave his little boys under
the joint guardianship of Mr. Titus Parchment and
Your obedient servant,
MORTON.
LETTER XXV.
LONDON, November 14, 1810.
To JOHIN HARWOOD, Esq., Baton Eouge, Louisiana, U. S. America.
My dear Sir: Captain Sir Herbert Harwood died on 30th
ultimo, of wounds received in a naval engagement, off Cape de la
Hogue. By his will I am. instructed to send you his writing desk
and contents, which will go by the packet that sails from Liverpool
to New Orleans on 20th instant. I am inclined to think that Sir
Herbert had a presentiment of his approaching death, from, the
papers I find since I have entered upon my duties as executor. The
present baronet, Sir Charles, and his brother, are with Lady Mor-
ton in Devonshire. Please acknowledge the receipt of the writing
desk. If you happen to know the address of your cousin Barnard,
who has. never been heard from since his marriage and departure
for Leghorn, will you please inform him of the death of your
lamented uncle? I have sealed up the desk, and know nothing of
its contents.
Yery sincerely your obedient servant,
MORTON.
122 HARWOOD.
LETTER XXVI.
LINMUIR, NEAR GLASGOW, February 6, 1811.
To JOHN HARWOOD, Esq., Baton Rouge, Louisiana, U. S. A.
Sir : I received your communication dated December 26, 1810,
and have at last concluded to notice it. I am, however, at a loss
to conceive by what right you have addressed me on this subject,
or any other. I know nothing whatever of the movements of Mr.
Barnard Harwood. He told me, the last time I saw him, that he
was going to Leghorn. He may have gone there, or to the States,
or to the devil, which is about the same thing, in my opinion. As
you appear to have adopted that contemptible country, you will
probably not agree with me.
Yours, HECTOR MACALLAN,
of Linmuir.
LETTER XXVII.
LONDON, 14^ May, 1811.
To JOHN HARWOOD, Esq., Baton Eouge, Louisiana, U. S. A.
Dear Sir : In looking carefully over the memoranda Jeft by my
father, who was very methodical and precise, I can find nothing
about the box you mention, excepting the following entries in his
" estate book." I give you the entries entire:
" June 8th, 1785. Received of William Lipscomb and Thomas
Dale, executors of Lady Denham, widow of Sir Mark Denhain,
Kt., one box, covered with sheet lead, contents unknown, for
transfer to Mrs. Lacy Harwood, widow, to whom said box was be-
queathed by said Lady Denham."
" June 10th, 1785. Mrs. Lacy Harwood died at Harwood House
on 8th instant. I am directed by Sir Herbert Harwood, Kt., and
Captain R. N., to retain the box in my possession, it being now
the property of Allen Harwood, infant son of Mrs. Lacy Harwood,
deceased."
" July 10th, 1804. Sent the above mentioned box to Sir Her-
bert Harwood, Bart., by the hands of Samuel Blinker, having
taken inventory of contents by Sir Herbert's directions. Invent-
ory enclosed in the box with other papers belonging to Allen
Harwood, Esq."
A BUNDLE OF LETTERS. 123
These are all the memoranda on the subject. In regard to any
claim that may be set up by Mr. Mark Denham, I happen to know
that all the property, real and personal, of Lady Denhain, was en-
tirely at her own disposal, and could not have been inherited by
her stepson, even if there had been no will.
I am, sir, very respectfully yours,
ALFRED PARCHMENT,
Solicitor, etc.
LETTER XXVIII.
BALTIMORE, May 11, 1811.
To JOHN HARWOOD, Esq., Baton Eouge, La.
Dear Sir : There is no such person as Barnard Harwood resid-
ing in this city, nor has there been for the past ten years, unless
he moved in the humblest circles. I have examined the marine
lists for the year 1808, and no ship of the name you mention en-
tered our port in that year. Please remit me twenty dollars,
which will cover all the expenses of the search.
Yery respectfully, yours, etc.,
THOMAS E. SMITH,
Attorney -at-Law.
LETTER XXIX.
ORLEANS, La., May 3, 1812.
r HARWOOD, Esq., Baton Eouge, La.
ar Harwood : We are as certain to have war, within a
ths, as that we live. There is no remedy. I am making
all my preparations to move to Manahio, and shall be able to get
a weekly mail, at least, to the village, Carrville. Let us decide
to go quietly to work on our plantations and wait for this storm
to pass. I have a young son, who made his appearance a few
weeks ago. I wanted to give him your name 3 but my wife is ob-
stinate, and insists that he shall bear his father's. There will be
no law business, either here or at Baton Eouge, that will be of
sufficient importance to us to keep us away from home. Don't
think of the folly of building your house this year, and don't delay
124 HAEWOOD.
your marriage on account of the small dimensions of your present
domicile at Harwood. Your house is better than nine- tenths of
the country houses in this State.
Yours, very truly,
CHARLES CARR.
P. S. Maltby has just been in and informed me of your inten-
tion to take the above advice before you get it. He says you will
be married this month, and that you intend to go direct to Har-
wood. Accept my congratulations, which are about as much in
advance as my good counsel will be in arrears.
LETTER XXX.
NEW ORLEANS, October ~L7th, 1831.
To JOHN HARWOOD, Esq., Carrville, La.
My dear Harwood : Allow me to introduce to your acquaintance
the bearer of this letter, Mr. Edward Delaney, late of Pensacola,
Florida. He has some business to transact in your neighbourhood,
and I shall gratefully acknowledge any attentions you may be
able to show him. He is a distant relation of my wife's family,
or at least she supposes he is, as she is related to the Delaneys,
some of whom reside in the Flowery State. I think Mr. Delaney
wishes to gain some information from you relative to the two
abolitionists who were hanged near Carrville last summer.
Yery truly yours,
FRANK MALTBY.
LETTER XXXI.
PENSACOLA, Fla., January 10, 1832.
To JOHN HARWOOD, Esq., State's Attorney, etc., Carrville, La.
My dear Friend : There is a Scotchman, named Gowrie, who
has some sort of a mercantile establishment in Carrville, who can
tell you more about Mr. Delauey than I can. He lived here eight
or ten years, and I am comparatively a newcomer. I have heard,
however, that he is a widower and appears to be rich. He plays
A BUNDLE OF LETTERS. 125
high, and wins, generally. There is some rumour about his hav-
ing committed acts of great cruelty among the Indians in the
Everglades, where he had an indigo plantation, probably five or
six years ago. He sold out there, I am told, because an Indian
chief had a fierce quarrel with him and his life was in danger.
Those Seininoles are becoming very troublesome. Don't get into
any quarrel with Delaney. He is a bad fellow, when crossed, and
very prompt with his pistol. He shot the Indian I mentioned
above, upon small provocation, and wounded him very severely,
thus exciting the enmity of a whole tribe, and making the neigh-
bourhood too hot for himself and very uncomfortable to the other
planters. He is here very rarely now-a-days, and seems to come
merely for the purpose of visiting his wife's grave. He has no
children. Yours sincerely,
BICHARD TALBOT.
LETTER XXXII.
ORLEANS, April 3d, 1832.
To JOHN HARWOOD, Esq., State's Attorney, etc., Carrville, La.
Dear Sir: I have found the three bales of cotton that were
missing. They were in the warehouse of Messrs. Campbell & Co.,
the marks and numbers almost obliterated. I was able to iden-
tify them by my mem. of shipment. The person you speak of was
living in Peiisacola when I first arrived there. He had a house
in the town, and lived alone. His wife had been dead several
years. This is all that I feel at liberty to communicate by letter,
but may be able to answer any proper questions when I return to
Carrville, next week.
Very respectfully, your obedient servant,
ANDREW GOWRTE.
The following letters were enclosed in a separate wrapper,
which bore this endorsement : " Since the death of the two Den-
sons I found the enclosed papers in a negro cabin on my planta-
tion. I endeavoured to save the lives of these miserable men at
the Lynch trial, but I stood alone. These new papers only serve
to make their guilt more apparent, though I still regret that I
was not able to obtain for them, the regular legal trial they
demanded.
June 20, 1832. JOHN HARWOOD."
126 HARWOOD.
LETTER XXXIII.
ORLEANS, 1st May, 1830.
To MATTHEW BENSON, Baton Eouge, La.
Friend and Brotlier : The good cause is progressing. I leave
this city to-morrow, and will join you at the place you have se-
lected for your field of labour early in next week. Lose no oppor-
tunity that may offer for informing our brethren in bondage of
the remedy for the evils they suffer. All that is now needed is
concert of action. The remedy we propose is desperate, but the
disease is worse.
Your fellow worker,
0. SUMNER.
LETTER XXXIV.
ORLEANS, July 8, 1830.
To MATTHEW BENSON, Baton Eouge, La.
Dear D. : You are running a great and unnecessary risk. Let
the niggers take their chances until the other matter is settled.
I own that I should not go into mourning if you could persuade
them to kill all the planters in that particular neighbourhood. If
we could manage them afterwards, they could, perhaps, aid us in
our search. Bon't write to me under any name. If you can find
the thing we will divide fairly, but I know that this part of the
world will be very unhealthy afterwards. With an old friend I
may venture to dispense with the formality of a
SIGNATURE.
LETTER XXXY.
XEW ORLEANS, July 18, 1831.
To MATTHEW BENSON, Baton Eouge, La.
Dear D. : Your messenger reached here in safety, and if he
were wise he would not return. He, however, avows his deter-
mination to share your fate. I tell you again, you are incurring
a terrible risk. If you suppose that you can escape, through
any legal quibble, dismiss that delusion from your mind instanter.
You can never obtain a regular trial, but will be strung up to the
A BUNDLE OF LETTERS. 127
nearest tree if you are caught. That madman, Sumner, is already
in jail fortunately for him and all the rest of his gang are
known and will be caught. Bum this up. I am not a coward,
yet I am shaking now with apprehension. If you do not instantly
give up all the schemes for the present, and work your way into
another State, through the woods or any way off the public
roads we shall meet no more on this side of Tophet ! Yet you
are such a headstrong devil, that I know you will not profit by my
advice. I sw^.ar to you that I will hunt for the valuables when
this fanatical scheme and the schemers are both disposed of and
forgotten, and I will divide fairly with you, as agreed. I swear it
to you, by the name I bear, or ought to bear. I can tell you
nothing about the trees. I only know that there are some in the
neighbourhood, as you will find to your cost, when you are dang-
ling from one of them. I will repeat to M. the exact conversation
that was overheard, and you can draw your own conclusions.
Once more, I charge you fly !
NEMO.
LETTER XXXVI.
ORLEANS, August 1, 1831.
To MATTHEW BENSON, Carrville, La.
You are lost, both of you I It is possible that this may reach
you in time, and only possible. Surnner the damned fool had
a list of names and " fields of labour," and these are found. You
and your son are therein located in Carrville. If it chances that
you are still free when you get this look not behind you !
NEMO.
LETTER XXXVII, AND LAST.
June 20, 1832.
To HENRIETTA HARWOOD, Harwood.
My Darling Child : I have selected the letters in this packet,
and arranged them in order, addressing them to you. Most of
the day has been given to this occupation, and the task is now
finished. When you receive this, which will not be until your
father has exchanged this world for a better one, I wish you to keep
128 HAEWOOD.
the letters together, aiid to read them when you will, and to dis-
pose of them thereafter as your excellent judgment and your
enlightened conscience shall dictate. And while I wish you to
know all of the story therein unfolded, I do not desire my dear
boy to know any part of it. Since your mother's death you have
been my most constant companion, and my most intimate friend,
and I feel that this intercourse will grow closer and more intimate
as your mind expandsif it should please God to spare me. But
if it is otherwise ordered, my daughter, let it comfort you to know
that your whole life has been one unchanging comfort to me ; and
also, that I confide your brother to you, with a strong and abiding
conviction that you are fully equal to the responsibility of the
charge. Darling Eet, your father thanks God for the gift of his
precious daughter every hour of his life.
You will know from Judge Carr, to whose legal guardianship I
have confided my children, what I have thought would be best
for you, in regard to your settlement in life. Need I say, dear
child, that this is only an expression of my opinion, and by no
means intended to bind you, should you make a different choice.
Only one word of counsel, darling, do I leave with you on this
subject. Never marry until you are sure that your husband is the
"foremost man" of all your world. Do not be misled by outward
attractions of any sort. You come of a high race, and should
never mate except with a gentleman of rare honour. But I can
freely trust you in this also.
Besides you and Herbert, I have no living kindred in America
that is, I do not know that I have. If I have, they are not such
as you will wish to know or acknowledge. I have two young
cousins in England or had twenty years ago as you will under-
stand from the letters. Farewell, my daughter !
Your loving father,
JOHN HAKWOOD.
p. s. There is a man called Delaney, whom you have seen once
or twice I find myself instinctively recoiling from him. Trust
my instinct, Eet, and avoid him.
HERBERTS JOURNAL. 129
HERBERT'S JOURNAL,
RESUMED.
CHAPTER XVII.
MR. DENHAM.
BALTIMORE, MONDAY, June 14, 1836.
IHAYE been home nearly a week, and have enjoyed myself
as much as was possible, under all the circumstances.
Most of the time has been spent in Insurance offices and in
the stores. I have almost finished my Baltimore work, and
expect to start for New York to-morrow. It is possible that I
may be detained there 30 or 60 days, as the underwriters there
may insist upon the time mentioned in their policies. Mr. Bayard
has gone to St. Louis, and will remain there the rest of this year.
He has given me carte blanche, and I am to employ any assistants
I may want when the goods reach Carrville.
Mother and the girls know most of my Louisiana history it is
barely possible that I mentioned Miss Harwood as little and as
slightly as I could. I cannot endure that even my Mother should
know all that I might reveal. I have not spoken of the letters at
all. Grace got me into a corner yesterday, and asked me some
extremely embarrassing questions. I was rascal enough to pre-
tend that I was in love with Maltby's little girl ! and I praised her
to the skies. She is a little slip of a girl, about fourteen a mere
child! Grace asked me the colour of her eyes and hair. I hope I
told the truth, but am not certain. At last she asked me " what
sort of a bonnet she ivore /" I did not swear, but the exclamation
I uttered got me off without cross-examination. Mother gave me
a lecture I don't know how long about my change of name, as
if I could help it ! I have prevailed on her to promise, however,
that she will write to Mr. Henry Hubbard when I go back, and I
have promised to resume my name " as soon as possible." Dear
Mother is kind to me, and yielded at last, against her judgment.
Alice don't want to hear much, except when I happen to speak of
Mr. Hamilton. She is such an old blue stocking that she listened
with great attention while I repreached the two sermons I heard.
She heard him all the time when he was in Baltimore, and was in-
troduced to him at somebody's house, where he happened to call.
If she had known he was going to Louisiana she would have sent
9
liiO HARWOOD.
some message to me : That would liave been a nice business ! I
daresay he saw some family likeness, when he said I reminded
him of some one he had met here. Dear me! I said nothing
about his self-denial sermon fitting me so exactly. I spoke of
Miss Harwood as the promised wife of Charley Carr all the time.
Oh ! how earnestly do I long to believe that I lied every time
I did it I Mother asked for my journal once or twice. I told her
the last time that there was only about one week's record in it,
and that I could give her a verbal history in less time than it
would take to read the record. Oh, Ret! my whole life is
compressed into that short week !
TUESDAY, June 15, 1836.
My trunk and I arrived at the steamboat wharf just five minutes
after the boat started. So I left my baggage at the office and
walked back to my Mother's house, carrying my Jittle portfolio
containing my letters and this journal, and some other letters. I
have made it a rule to keep this always under my own eye since
I left Carrville. On board the " Queen of the West 77 1 left it in
my trunk, but carried it in my hands from Wheeling to Baltimore.
I let myself in with my latch-key, and, walking softly, intending
to pounce upon Mother and the girls suddenly, I slipped into a
little closet adjoining the drawing room. I had been there but a
few minutes when the door bell rang. As I could get out of the
closet into the hall if the visitor entered the drawing-room, I
seated myself and waited patiently for the "call' 7 to be over.
When the servant opened the door I heard a man's voice, saying :
" Does Mrs. Harwood reside here f 7
" Yes, sir, walk in."
"Give her this card, and say I will be obliged if she will favour
me with a few minutes' conversation," and he walked into the
parlour.
I soon heard my Mother's silks rustling, as she passed the closet
door, and when she got into the parlour, I thought I would slip out
and go back for the girls. Before I got out of earshot, I heard
the visitor say :
" Mrs. Harwood f 7
" Yes, sir! Mr. Denham, I believe?"
I resumed my seat.
" Yes, madam, I am Mr. Denham. I have called to see if I
could find a relation of the late Sir Herbert Harwood, of Harwood
House, Essex."
HERBERTS JOURNAL. 131
" My husband was the nephew of Sir Herbert Harwood, sir,"
replied niy Mother.
" I suppose so, madam, from information I received."
" Eesume your seat, sir," said my Mother, and they sat down.
The idea of going away flashed across my mind, as I did not like
being an eavesdropper ; but I was rooted to the spot by the next
words.
" I am not at liberty to say all I know, madam," resumed the
visitor, " but it will perhaps be sufficient to say that your son
you have a son I think f
" Yes, sir ; Herbert !"
" Precisely, madam. Mr. Herbert Harwood is particularly in-
terested in the matter. For the present, however, I am obliged to
act very circumspectly ; and I may add that your son especially
should know nothing of what I may say to you." There was a
pause.
11 Proceed, sir," said my Mother, at length.
" Pardon me, madam. Do I understand you to agree that what
I reveal is to be considered confidential F
" My son has just left the city, sir. He may not return for sev-
eral weeks. You will have to allow me to decide when I have
heard what you say you have to reveal." There was another
pause.
" I see you distrust me, madam, and I will frankly state the
case to you. I am a lawyer, and my personal interest in this busi-
ness depends entirely upon the success of my effort to place your
son in possession of a large sum of money. Now, if he should
hear too soon of this good fortune, and deem it advisable to make
any personal effort to secure it, he would almost certainly derange
niy plans, and probably lose the fortune altogether."
"My son is a man, sir; and a gentleman by birth and educa-
tion. You may safely rely upon his honour."
"Undoubtedly, madam!" replied her interlocutor. "You shall
judge for yourself whether or not to include him in our confi-
dence "
" I do not comprehend what you mean by our confidence, sir. 7 '
My Mother is a regular queen when she chooses to put on her
majesty. I could hardly refrain from peeping into the room to see
how Mr. Denham took that shot.
" I perceive that there is no confidence on your side at least,
madam," said he ; " and I fear the whole business will fall through
132 HARWOOD.
for want of it. It is absolutely necessary that I should see all
papers that your husband may have left. I do not object to the
presence of your son or yourself while I make the investigation.
Nay, I only ask that you, or either of you, should read the papers
in my hearing. If I am to proceed in the case thereafter, I must
insist upon full liberty to act without the interference of any one."
" My husband left no papers relating to his connection with the
family of Sir Herbert, excepting those written by himself "
a Those are precisely the papers I want, madam," said Mr.
Denharn eagerly.
"The only papers in my possession, sir, are contained in a
packet addressed to my son."
" No doubt, madam ; they are all important in this matter."
" Well sir, I can do nothing without consulting my son. If you
desire it I will write to him by the next mail. I can have an an-
swer in about a week."
" I must content myself with your decision," said he, rising. My
Mother rang the bell, and he passed into the hall. As the servant
opened the door I peeped into the passage, and saw his crisp,
black hair, the nicely fitting kid glove, and the glossy silk hat he
was adjusting on his wicked skull.
It was Captain Delaney.
As my Mother walked up the hall I emerged from the closet
and met her.
" Herbert ! my son ! what has happened f
"Nothing, Mother. The boat left me, and I must postpone my
journey until to-morrow. Please come into the drawing room
again."
" You are ill, Herbert? your face is pale, and "
" I am quite well, dear Mother. You had a visitor just now?"
Yes a Mr Denham," she said, glancing at the card in
her hand "the most intensely disagreeable man I ever met !"
u What makes you say so, Mother f ?
" His tout ensemble ; the glance of his sharp, black eye ; the tone
of his voice ; the motion of his gloved hand ; his seeming deter-
mination to accomplish his purposes coute qui coute." Oh, excel-
lent Mother !
" I have heard all your conversation, Mother. Please forgive
me. I was in the closet all the time he was here. Don't scold me,
please, but listen. I know this man. I have seen him in Louisi-
ana, and have heard more than I have seen. He is now working
HEEBEE T S JO UBNAL. 1 33
out some devilish plot affecting me, or John Harwood's chil-
dren. Oh, Mother ! help me to circumvent him."
"Why are you so excited, Herbert? where are you going ?" E
went into the closet and got my portfolio ; I laid it in her lap, and
then putting my arms round her neck I hid my face in her loving
bosom.
" I have not dealt candidly with you, Mother. Eead all of my
journal, and all the letters, and you will then be able to counsel
me. I am ashamed of myself, Mother; 'I should have told you
everything. Where are the girls P
" They are both out will not be home until evening. Suppose
you go after them ; they are at Mrs. Leland's. Go, my son, and I
will read while you are all away. Mrs. Leland will be very glad
to have you. Come home early." So I went.
When we got home Mother was in her own room. It was about
ten o'clock, and the girls soon retired. I took my candle and
came here into my chamber. My Father's portrait is hanging over
there by the window, and I was standing before it, looking into
his eyes and trying to remember how he looked when I last saw
him, when Mother came into the room. She laid my portfolio
down on the table and held out her arms to me. She held me in
her embrace a moment, and then we sat down.
" My poor boy!" she said at last, "does your Father's picture
say anything to you f
" Yes, Mother. It tells me that I am the son of a noble gentle-
man and of a matchless lady ! I don't need any other lesson."
" I have read your journal, Herbert, and all those letters. Yon
have acted well, my son, and I am proud of you."
" I think you may trust me, Mother. And now I want my
Father's letter may I have it f
" It is here, in your portfolio. It was to be given you when yon
were of age. I think that time has come, dear, hasn't it?"
"Yes, ma'am.' 7
" Do you want to read it to-night, Herbert ?" she said, as she
kissed me at parting.
" Yes, Mother. We will talk about it to-morrow. Let me light
yon. Good night !"
134 HAH WOOD.
CHAPTEE XVIII.
ALLEN HARWOOD'S LETTER.
BALTIMORE, May 1st, 1826.
My Beloved Son : It is proper that you should know some part
of the history of your family, and while you are now too young to
understand the story, the time will probably arrive when it will
be full of interest. I am. admonished by many unmistakable
tokens that my career is nearly ended. Yours will be only begun,
my son, when you read these lines. May it be as happy as your
Father's has been, and far more useful.
My grandfather was the second son of John Lacy Harwood,
Baron Morton of Laviugton, Devonshire. The Harwoods are a
very old family, and have always piqued themselves upon their
ancient name. From the wars of the Eoses down to the accession
of the House of Hanover, it has always happened that the branch
of the family from which you spring has espoused the cause which
modern historians have pronounced to be right. There have been
many vicissitudes in their history, but through them all the Har-
woods of Essex and Devonshire have ever maintained their repu-
tation as valiant soldiers, wise statesmen and spotless gentlemen.
Therefore, the cumulative power of the example of these worthies
has been felt through succeeding generations ; and all the mem-
bers of the family that I have known, with one exception, have
acknowledged and been governed by this influence. In this
democratic land there is a groAviug disposition to ignore and
despise all the claims of lineage and blood ; but I charge you, my
son, to live and die worthily, to let the controlling emotions of
your moral nature, the words of your lips, and the acts of your
life, all accord with the record of the race from which you have
descended.
The lordship of Morton, with the Devonshire estates, the prin-
cipal of which is Lavington, were all conferred upon my father's
grandfather, John Lacy Harwood. My grandfather was a younger
son of the first Baron Morton of Lavington. He died in 17CO,
leaving four sons, namely: Herbert, Lacy, John and Barnard.
My earliest recollections go back to about 1790, when my uncle
Herbert was the only survivor of these four gentlemen. My
father, Lacy Harwood, died soon after my birth ; my uncles, John
ALLEN HARWOO&S LETTER. 135
and Barnard, died before 1790 leaving, each of them, a son,
whose sole inheritance was his father's name. My uncle Herbert
was an officer in the Eoyal Navy, and died about fifteen years
ago, after winning a victory that cost him his life. You bear the
name of this noble gentleman, my son, and I trust you to trans-
mit it to your children without stain or blemish.
My grandfather's estate, according to English law, descended
to his eldest son, and the portions of both of my cousins were very
small. We were all three brought up in our uncle's house, and I
should have inherited his fortune if he had died without issue-
but he left two sons, who were born to him, after we three had
arrived at manhood. My cousin John had an estate somewhere
in Louisiana, bought for him by our uncle, who had been created
a baronet by George III, and whose estate had reached a value
nearly double the amount of his inheritance. He was munificent
in his gifts to his nephews, and intended to purchase a similar
estate for me after the birth of his heir. But I had long desired
to win a fortune for myself in India, and my kind uncle yielded to
my wishes.
Before I proceed with my own story, I have a few words to say
about my cousin Barnard, and about his wife, Miss Alice More,
who was Sir Herbert's adopted daughter. What I say to you on
this subject I wish you alone to know. So far as I am aware,
your Mother and I are the only living repositories of these secrets,
and I communicate them to you, hoping you will be warned
by an evil example, as you will be stimulated to good by that of
your grand uncle. The history of his life is a part of the history
of his country, and in all her glorious annals I could find no name
to bestow upon you that was more worthy than his.
From his early youth Barnard was fierce, wilful, imperious, ex-
acting and revengeful. This much I know. I am. obliged to think
he was also covetous and even dishonest. He was the one bad
product of a goodly tree. At school, and at home during the holi-
days, he was a perpetual thorn in the sides of John and your father.
I avoided quarrels with him by avoiding his society, but he and
John spent their early lives in one long battle, with occasional
hollow truces. About the time I attained my majority, uncle re-
turned after a long absence from England, and placed Barnard at a
different school, and shortly afterwards John was finally settled
in Louisiana. Just about the time of niy departure for India,
Barnard and Alice were privately married in Scotland, and sailed
13G HARWOOD.
for Leg born, it was said, immediately. I do not know what to say
of Alice. I loved her very dearly, and I am now disposed to be-
lieve that she was misled and overruled by Barnard, whose one
redeeming trait was his profound affection for her. Their mar-
riage was opposed by Sir Herbert on account of the disparity in
their ages, Alice being five or six years older than her husband.
Neither of them had any fortune, as we were all alike dependent
upon Sir Herbert'sJdndriess, and it was because I was not willing
to take any part of his inheritance from his natural heirs that I
determined to seek my own fortune in the East. I try to think
of you, Herbert, as a matured man, while I write this, and to be-
lieve that you will appreciate the sacredness of the secret I am
about to tell you. I am afraid that Barnard obtained whatever
money he had by a direct robbery. This was enough of degrada-
tion, it would seem ; but to crown the act with peculiar infamy,
he chose for his victim the kind, unsuspecting uncle, in whose
house he had lived from his infancy ! I do not know this, but
there is not the shadow of a doubt upon my mind concerning the
sad story. I have told it to you, trying to distinguish between
facts and suspicions, because it is possible that you may some
day encounter your unworthy relative. He is able to deceive you
or any one, but with this knowledge of his character you need not
be deceived, if you should ever chance to meet.
I come now to my own history, and have little more to say.
Your mother will communicate all you may desire to learn. I
first saw her on the voyage to Calcutta, and learned to appreciate
her value before we had been many days at sea. Like me, she
was an orphan, and poor. She was going, a passenger in the
same ship, to India, at the invitation of her uncle, who was in
moderately prosperous circumstances. On the voyage the ship
was attacked by a French privateer, and although not captured,
was so badly damaged that she was abandoned by her crew in
the midst of a storm. I had been severely wounded and was
supposed to be dying, and the crew refused to transfer my almost
lifeless body to the overladen boat. Alice, my Alice, your noble
Mother, refused to leave her affianced husband while the vital
spark still lingered, and the master of the Hesperus also resolved
to share our fate. The crew left us, and were no doubt drowned
an hour afterwards. The master was swept away in a small boat,
which he was supplying with provisions for our escape, and was
afterwards picked up and saved. We were rescued, Alice and I,
ALLEN HARWOOD'' S LETTER. 137
from the sinking vessel by an American merchantman, and your
Mother saw the wreck sink before we had reached the deck of the
Chesapeake. We saved, that is she saved my baggage and her
own, and our joint fortunes amounted to a little more than ten
thousand dollars. Before we reached this city, to which the
Chesapeake was bound, we had spoken two British cruisers, and.
I had sent letters to my uncle, informing him of my safety, by
both of them. I afterwards learned that he had died before
either of these letters reached England, if they ever did.
The day of our arrival in Baltimore was the happiest day of my
life. Your mother and I were married at the office of the British
Consul, and the certificate she now has bears his signature and
official seal. I commenced the business from which I am now re-
tiring with the capital I had saved from the wreck of the Hes-
perus, and the blessing of Providence has so far attended me that
I am able to leave my family in the possession of a modest com-
petence. You will have to make your own way in the world, my
son 5 if you desire riches you must earn them. In this land, strict
attention to a vocation and economy in expenditure will rarely
fail of obtaining enough for any reasonable wants. I wrote to my
cousin, John Harwood, addressing him in New Orleans, and in-
formed him of my marriage and my happiness. I received in reply
a letter from a Mr. Denharn, an English gentleman, who stated
that poor John had died just as the last war between England and
this country began. He had contracted a disease some malig-
nant fever, and died on the eve of his own marriage.
Next to my uncle, whose kindness and affection followed me
through my whole life, and to whom I am indebted for all that I
have, John Harwood occupies the highest place in my memory.
Though he was ever rash, impulsive and passionate, he was also
ever brave, generous and true. I loved him very dearly, and if he
had lived, it would have been my pleasant duty to bid you honour
him, as you can now only honour his memory. I visited him with
Sir Herbert at his home in Louisiana, just twenty -three years ago,
and we three gentlemen explored a portion of the western bank of
the great river, hunting during the day and sleeping in the open
woods at night. It was then a wilderness, and there were occa-
sionally parties of unfriendly Indians, from the farther West, who
roved in small bands almost within reach of the settlements on the
banks of the Mississippi. I was once attacked by a scout of one
of these wild tribes, and should probably have been slain in the
138 HARWOOD.
encounter but for the courage and address of my cousin John.
The savage had surprised ine, and mastered my rifle, and we were
struggling on the ground, my strength gradually yielding under
the pressure of the iron muscles of the Indian, when John sud-
denly arrived and rescued me. I shall never forget how he dashed
upon the truculent savage, tore him from my relaxing grasp, and
wresting the knife from his hand killed him with his own weapon.
Mr. Denham's letter informed me that he was engaged to settle
his estate, by the guardian of Sir Charles Harwood. I presume
the title to the property had remained in Sir Herbert Harwood,
though I know that it was my uncle's intention to convey it to
John. If Mr. Denham's letter had not so explicitly stated the
contrary, I should have gone South to look after this property, for
my children's sake ; but this gentleman could have had no conceiv-
able motive to deceive me, and I am forced to conclude that my
uncle had retained the title deeds.
My story is ended. It is not probable that you will ever see
any of the members of the family whose history I have just re-
counted to you. I have few memorials to leave you. The most
valuable is my watch and seal, bearing the Harwood arms. The
watch is even now somewhat antiquated, and when you are old
enough to wear it it will no doubt be out of fashion ; but, if it has
no other value, the inscription on the case " From Sir Herbert
Harwood, Baronet, to his dear nephew and heir-at-law, Allen
Harwood, London, 1801" is -a rich legacy, because it reminds me
of my loving uncle, and will serve to remind you, my dear son, of
both him and
Your loving father,
ALLEN HARWOOD.
OH APTEE XIX.
WHEAL PENTLAND.
WEDNESDAY, June 16, 1836.
MY Mother and I have spent most of this morning in mutual
explanations, and we have enlightened each other amaz-
ingly. She began, after reading my Father's letter, to unravel the
Denham mystery. The rascal Denham, or Delaney, has been
prowling about the neighbourhood of Harwood, to find and carry
off the box of jewelry which he supposes to be hidden there. It
WHEAL PENTLAND. 139
is my box, so lie is trying to steal from me. His object in getting
my Father's papers is evidently to eke out the imperfect informa-
tion he already has, and which he probably obtained from Bar-
nard Harwood. We have concluded to meet him as follows : I
shall write to my Mother, as soon as I reach New York,. declining
to treat with Mr. Denham without some more definite statement,
and inviting Jiiin to correspond with me upon the subject through
my Mother. I want a letter from him, because I think he is
the writer of those letters to the Densous, and, if so, I can prove it
by comparing them. I don't know what will be the next step, but
I am going to keep the secret of my interest in the matter from
Captain Delauey by keeping my Hubbard name awhile longer. If
I escape meeting him here, I shall have the advantage when we
meet again in Louisiana, tis I will know his secret but he will not
know mine. I shall try to be in time for the steamboat this
evening.
YORK, SATURDAY, June 19, 1836.
After prowling about this big city all day I feel rather tired.
There will be some delay about collecting the insurance money,
and I don't know how long I shall be detained. I wrote the letter
to Mother as soon as I arrived here, and expect to have a reply
some day in next week probably about Wednesday. The largest
amount of our New York Insurancs is in the New York and Balti-
more Consolidated office, and I spent about three hours there to-
day. When I got access to the secretary I found him poring over
some huge account books, and apparently very much perplexed.
He soon disposed of my business by appointing to-morrow for the
investigation of my claim ; and remarking that he was very much
annoyed by the state of his accounts, I offered my assistance. He
has to make a seini-annual report on the 1st of July, and there is
a large error in his balance sheet which he has not been able to
find. I told him that I was an accountant of considerable expe-
rience, and that I would look for the mistake while he examined
my insurance claim. He agreed at once, and I went to work. It
is only necessary to say that I have thus far discovered nothing,
except that the mistake must bo in one of three or four large ac-
counts. Mr. Hardy, the secretary, is not much of an accountant,
and he has been wasting valuable time and labour in looking for
his error in impossible places. He says he will give me five hun-
dred dollars if I get off his balance sheet before the month is out,
140 HAEWOOD.
so I am going to work in earnest on Monday. I must find out
now where to go to church to-morrow.
NEW YORK, MONDAY, June 2 i , 1836.
I have spent this entire day over the insurance books, and begin
to see daylight. The original error was an uneven sum, and I
have found two or three small ones, and am now looking for pre-
cisely one hundred thousand dollars. I am sure of finding that,
by a regular and systematic examination of all the large accounts,
taking them ab initio. When I make my next entry here, I shall
be able to record my victory. The whole thing is so simplified by
my fortunate discovery of the small mistakes, that I feel entirely
confident of success to-morrow or on the next day.
WEDNESDAY, June 23, 1836.
A good long yarn to spin to-night. I found the error, and gave
Mr. Hardy the balance sheet this morning. I have now in my
pocket a nice crisp new note for five hundred dollars, which was
the more acceptable, because Mr. Hardy seemed to pay it with
genuine pleasure. Eeceived a letter from Mother, enclosing a
note from Mr. Denham, which I may as well copy here :
BALTIMORE, June 21, 1836.
" To Mr. HERBERT HARWOOD, New York,,
u Dear Sir : Mrs. Alien Harwood has shown me a letter from
you, in which you decline my proposition to look over your Fath-
er's papers, without fuller information from me as to the object
in view. Briefly, I may say, that I expect to obtain such informa-
tion from these papers as will enable me to secure to you a sum of
money, which you would inherit as the son of Allen Harwood,
Esq. It is not possible for any one to obtain this money with-
out the information which I alone can give. If I succeed, I shall
require your obligation to pay me a percentage of the amount
obtained ; and I shall also require that you put me in possession
of certain data, which I am sure will be found among the papers
left by Mr. Allen Harwood. These data will, no doubt, have to be
collected from old letters, &c., or other memoranda 5 and as I can-
not specify more explicitly the kind of information I want, I can
see no way to arrive at the desired end save by a careful examina-
tion of the papers referred to. My address for the present is
Barntim's Hotel, Baltimore.
" Very respectfully yours,
"MARK DENHAM."
WHEAL PENTLAND. 141
The writing is identical with that in the letters signed " Signa-
ture " and " Nemo," in Bet's packet. I have not yet answered Mr.
Denhain.
I am at a loss to account for this man's conduct ; that he designs
to gain possession of the box, left by his stepmother to my grand-
mother, I can easily understand. But why should he change his
name to Delaney, and how does he know anything about my
Father's family ? He has been hunting this lead-covered box for
more than five years, and this is his first appearance in this lati-
tude. He is undoubtedly the same man who volunteered the lie
which deceived my father, and prevented a natural intercourse
between the cousins, which might have led to the discovery ot"
this property. John Harwood died in the belief that my Father
had perished in the Indian Ocean ; and my Father died in the
belief that his cousin had fallen a victim to some southern fever,
in 1812. On one hand, I am forearmed by the knowledge of Den-
ham's rascality, and by a tolerably clear insight into his motives
and intentions ; but, on the other, 1 feel as though I am fighting
in the dark, and with an adversary having cat's eyes. I think I
have decided to write to Mother, requesting her to tell Mr. Den-
ham thafrf shall call upon him, if I conclude to entrust the mat-
ter to him. If I can evade him until I get back to Louisiana I
may be able to spoil all his nice plans.
After ^ left Mr. Hardy this morning I walked down into Wall
street, to hunt up Mr. Carr's correspondent. I found his office at
last, on the second floor of a house which seemed to be occupied
entirely by stock brokers. Every door had a little tin sign on it,
and all the signs bore the word " stock broker," in addition to the
names of the occupants of the rooms. Mr. Callahan's office is a
dingy looking back room, furnished with two or three chairs, two
desks, some files of newspapers, and two spittoons. The office
was taking care of itself when I entered. There was a card stick-
ing upon the front door, bearing the following inscription :
tka 4g.aa.td.
fWLLL r-eJuLLn. a.t n.c.an..
CL &ea.
Supposing the invitation to be addressed to me, I seated myself,
and taking one of the files, I found, it contained some compara-
142 HARWOOD.
tively recent numbers of the London Times. I have long had a
curiosity to see this paper, and was buried in one of its editorials,
when I heard a great shuffling of feet on the stairs, and presently
the door opened and Mr. Callahan and another gentleman entered
the nice. I laid aside the paper, and rose as they came in, and
Mr. Callahan waved his hand, saying, with a slight Hibernian
twang:
" Keep your seat, sir; I shall be at leisure in a moment."
He and his companion went off instantly into an animated dia-
logue, which they kept up in an almost unknown tongue. The
broker began by saying: "I took a thousand shares of Pacific
Canal to-day, me boy, at nine and three-eighths. You can have it
or not, as you plaze."
" I'll take it," said the other ; "but it was only a quarter yester-
day."
" Thrue for you ! but there is a corner in it !"
" The deuce !"
" Sure there is thin I" said Mr. Callahan. " It'll be ten, or ten
and a half to-morrow."
" Why didn't you go deeper F said his companion.
" Oh, I was not fool enough to run it up on meself, ye divil ; but
niver mind. It is good enough for you as it is."
" Well, you want the money F
" Send me your cheque in the mornin'. Let me see, nine and
three-eighths, and the commission ninety -four hundred and forty-
three, seventy-five. Ye'll not want a statement F
" I guess I can cypher it out !" drawled the other. What about
the copper F
" Illegant ! but it will not be on for a week or so. I'll let ye
know in time. Good day ! Now, sir ; if you'll excuse me, I'll draw
me coat. It's hot as blazes !"
He looked quite cool and collected as he sat opposite me in his
shirt sleeves. He had a sharp nose, and a pair of flimsy looking
red whiskers. I handed him his own letter to Mr. Carr, and while
he was reading it I made up my mind, if either of us was to be
taken in, it would not be Mr. Callahan. When he had finished
the letter he refolded it and bowing to me, said :
" You represent Mr. Carr, I presume, sir F
" Yes, sir ; I have that honour," I replied.
" Well, sir ; will you favour me with your instructions F
" Will you oblige me, in the first place," said I, "by letting me
WHEAL PENILAND. 143
understand a little about this stock ? Mr. Carr's instructions to
me were extremely vague, and I must be guided by my own judg-
ment in the matter. I left Louisiana very unexpectedly, and had
no opportunity for much conversation with him on the subject."
"With all the pleasure in life, Mr. "
"Harwood, sir."
" Happy to meet you, Mr. Harwood. I believe you are Mr. Carr's
ward ; but we always call him Judge. Isn't he a judge or some-
thing of that sort 1"
u Not at present. He was parish judge some years ago, but re-
signed his office. He retains the title, however, almost univer-
sally. I am not "
"Oh, well; divil's the difference ! About the stock. Judge Oarr
was here in the summer a year ago and I had just returned from
a trip to the copper regions on Lake Superior. While I was there,
my travelling companion, who is a geologist and mineralogist of
considerable ability, induced me to join him in the purchase of a
tract of land, which he thought very promising for mining pur-
poses. We did buy it, and the former owner stipulated for a
fourth part of the stock in part payment, when we had formed
the company and issued certificates. All this has been done. Mr.
Carr proposed taking a fourth interest at the same time. The
original cost of the land, with the expenses of getting a charter
and other incidentals, amount all together to two thousand dol-
lars. The former owner has received his certificate for twelve
thousand five hundred shares. Mr. Ludlow, the mineralogist, has
his certificate for a like amount ; I have mine, and here is Judge
Carr's all complete, except the filling in of his name. The charter
establishes the corporation with a capital of fifty thousand dol-
lars, in fifty thousand shares of one dollar each."
" I don't understand," I answered ; " I thought you said the cost
was only two thousand "
" Oh, the value fixed to the shares is only nominal 5 but nobody
in the world knows anything about the cost excepting the parties
interested. When the stock comes upon the market it will rep-
resent a property valued at fifty thousand dollars. You need not
laugh, I can sell the whole of it in an hour for very nearly that
sum."
'" Do you really mean, Mr. Callahan, that you can get for Judge
Carr's portion anything like ten thousand dollars f '
"That's precisely what I mean, sir. The stock has never been
144 HARWOOD.
regularly before the board, but I have had private offers for my
interest from several well informed men."
"Well, sir," said I, taking my hat, "I shall decide to-morrow
about the matter. You know I am acting for another, and must,
therefore, be as prudent as possible."
" Certainly, sir," rejoined Mr. Callahan ; " and if you conclude
to resign Mr. Carr's interest I will make you a present of five
hundred dollars, either now or to-morrow."
I went to Mr. Hardy's office, but he was out, and I am going
back there to-morrow to see him and get his advice. Though I
don't see how I can hesitate, if a very small percentage of Mr.
Callahan's story is true.
THURSDAY, June 24, 1836.
Mr. Hardy told me this morning that I ought by all means to
take the stock. I did not tell him the original cost, as I thought
that was not my secret. But he says it will undoubtedly sell at a
dollar a share as soon as it is on the board list. Acting upon this
advice I went down into Wall street again, and, it being after
noon, I found Mr. Callahan in his office. I had forgotten all about
Mr. Carr's commission, when I was with Mr. Bayard on the Mis-
sissippi, arid not feeling at liberty to use his money, I paid Mr.
Callahan my beautiful five hundred dollar note. It cost me a
struggle, too, as I had determined to expend a large part of this
money in presents for my Mother and sisters. But I knew I was
pursuing the proper course, so I swallowed my regrets. Mr.
Callahan asked me if I was certain that Mr. Carr's name was
Charles, and, as I could not remember positively, he proposed to
fill up the certificate in my name. There is a blank form on the
back for transfers, and he took my signature (which he pro-
nounced " a beautiful specimen of caligraphy") in the transfer
book.
" It would be necessary for me to have Mr. Carr's signature,
anyhow," he said, " as I have never seen his writing and could not
identify it. It is probable that he will wish to divide his stock,
and if so, the directions for transfer must come from you. His
letter enclosing the certificate for transfer will be a sufficient
voucher."
I put the certificate away in my pocket-book, remarking that I
was now one fourth owner of the " Lake Shore Mine."
" That's just it !'' replied Mr. Callahan, " and if the Judge should
happen to disapprove of your investment, it will be about the
luckiest thing that could happen to you."
WHEAL PENTLAND. 145
" It seems very strange, Mr. Callahan s " said I, " that so small a
sum of money should buy so large and valuable a piece of pro-
perty."
" Did you ever happen to hear of Wheal Pentland F said Mr.
Callahan.
" Wheal Pentland !" replied I, with a start $ " certainly ; I have
heard of a copper mine of that name in Cornwall.' 7
"That's -just it!" said he again, with considerable emphasis.
" Do you happen to know the early history of that mine?"
" ]STo, sir," I replied, beginning to be enormously interested.
" Well, then, I'll relate it. About thirty years ago a small party
of gentlemen there were only eight of them bought the mine,
formed a company and got a charter. The par value of the stock
was five pounds a share, but there was never more than one
pound paid in. Yery soon after the company was organized one
of the stockholders sold out his interest in small lots at par. He
thought he was making a good thing of it, and so he was, con-
sidering his original outlay. The other seven, or their heirs, hold
the balance of the stock to this day. Here is a late number of
the Times ; will you plaze look at the quotation of Wheal Pent-
land f he handed ine the paper, pointing to the column contain-
ing the information " you see it is quoted at twenty-five pounds
a share."
" It is true," I answered, somewhat bewildered. " It is set down
here just as you say one pound paid in and quoted at twenty
five pounds, offered."
" Just so. There is none for sale, however. When the eighth
owner had sold out his proportion the most of it was bought at
higher prices by the other stockholders. The last lot that was on
the market was sold in small parcels of one hundred shares. It
was sold by trustees to close an estate, and it sold up to twenty-
five pounds, which has been the standing bid for some three or
four years back. It is paying large dividends upon the advanced
price."
" Do you expect the Lake Superior mine to do as well as Wheal
Pentland f '
" Upon me sowl, I don't, thin !" he answered. " But copper
mines are generally remarkably profitable or utterly worthless. I
do think the Lake Shore mine will be found in the former cate-
gory. It has been carefully examined by scientific gentlemen, and
the quality of the ores is unusually good, and the quantity is sup-
10
146 HARWOOD.
posed to be inexhaustible. I don't mind telling you, in confidence,
that I intend to sell a small portion of my stock when it reaches
two dollars a share, and I shall put the balance of it away for my
children."
u To go back to Wheal Pentland, sir, allow me to ask you a
question or two. My father owned some of this stock, but the cer-
tificate was - lost. I have reason to think it still stands in his
name. If my surmise is correct, it has stood in this condition for
nearly or quite thirty years, and I suppose there is an accumula-
tion of unclaimed dividends. Now, what steps should I take to
find out something about it ?"
" How much of the stock did your father own F
" A thousand shares."
" What !" exclaimed Mr. Callahan, starting up from his seat ;
"a thousand shares of Wheal Pentland! Well, by jingo! that
bangs the divil! And all the back dividends! Why, by me
sowl, you are talking about a hundred and fifty thousand dollars
at least !"
" So it seems, sir. I didn't know, until quite recently, that my
father owned this stock. He never knew it. It was bought for
him by his uncle, who hid the certificate somewhere I don't know
where intending to surprise his nephew with the gift at some
subsequent time. But he died before the gift was made, and I
am almost positive that the stock still stands in Allen Harwood's
name."
"Well, one thing is pretty certain, anyhow," said Mr. Callahan,
after rubbing his head in great perplexity, " and that is, that no
man in his sinses is going to slape long with such an avalanche of
money hanging over his head. Have you taken any steps what-
ever in the business f '
" None, sir. I just asked you for advice upon that point.*'
" Suppose you lave the case in my charge for the present. Give
me your name and your father's name here in writing ; also the
name and residence of your father's uncle, and the date of the
purchase, as near as you can remember it."
" It was in 1801."
"Yery good. Write it down and lave me your address in
Louisiana. You shall hear from me in about sixty days."
I took out my pocket-book, preparing to deposit a fee with Mr.
Callahan, when he put a stopper upon the proceeding by saying
there woidd be no expense involved in the mere investigation.
WHEAL PENTLAND. 147
" I have a correspondeut in London to whom I am writing any-
how, and it is only the addition of a few lines to my letter. If we
get the stock I shall charge you the usual commission when the
transfers are made."
" I have only a word more to say, then," I remarked, as I took
leave of my new friend ; "my father was married in the office of
the British Consul at Baltimore, and the certificate in my mother's
possession has his official signature and seal "
" All the better, Mr. Harwood 5 there will be no difficulty about
getting the money beyond some little formalities. Good-bye, sir ;
I hope to have the pleasure of writing you good news before the
year is out."
I shall start for Baltimore to-morrow, D. V. I wrote to Mr.
Mark Denham to-night, merely saying that I had no private
papers of my Father's which I would allow any stranger to see. I
also remarked that the record I had of Mr. Denham's former
friendly offices did not encourage me to trouble him with my
family matters, which were already in " very, skillful hands." I
thought the last remark would settle him.
BALTIMORE, MONDAY, July 12, 1836.
Mrs. Leland invited all of us to spend some days with her at
her country house. The weather has been hot and the country
delightful. We have all been there since I returned from New
York. I came into town two or three times a week to attend to
business matters, and I am now ready to return to Louisiana. I
expect to start to-morrow morning. Dear Mother is up stairs
writing a letter to Ret. I don't know what she will say to her,
but I am going to take the letter. I can trust Mother.
I saw Captain Delaney Denham get into one of the Frederick
cars a week ago. He has started for the South again, no doubt.
The servant we left at home says he called twice during our ab-
sence, but left no message. I am pretty sure he did not see me.
I feel a sort of presentiment that the rascal will work some evil
upon me some of these days, and I am half ashamed to say that
the thought makes me nervous. I know that I am not afraid of
him, yet the idea of meeting him again at Carrville makes my
heart beat faster. What folly this is ! I won't endure it any
longer, so I'll quit thinking about him.
US HARWOOD.
O
CHAPTEE
HEARTBROKEN.
CARRYILLE, LOUISIANA, WEDNESDAY, Aug. 4, 1836.
H, I have seen her again ! Why should I write any more ?
The rest of my life is a blank, for I love her ! Yes, yes. All
the story is told in a word. I love her so, that the wildest expres-
sions that come into my mind are tame and meaningless. I love her
without one little spark of hope, but I love her the more, because
I know that the miserable secret must be forever hidden in my
own bosom until it eats away my vitals. All the while I have
been away I have thought of her, dreamed of her, and longed for
her. I thought of the joy with which I should tell her that I
was Allen Har wood's son. I thought I should give her Mother's
letter, and watch her while she read it. Oh, how mad I have
been ! Oh, why did I ever awaken from that foolish dream !
While the steamboat was crawling down the long river I counted
the hours that must intervene before I could look upon her fair
faco again. I cannot write any more to-night, for I feel that I am
going mad ! I am going out far into the country into the
woods, and will try to walk myself into weariness. Shall I ever
sleep any more ?
MIDNIGHT.
I believe I am sobered again, and may be able to write some-
thing like a record of to-day's events. I feel sad enough, Heaven
help me ! but I hope I am able to meet whatever Providence may
have in store for me with the front of a man. There is nothing to
say about my journey from Baltimore. All I know about it is
that it continued many long days, and that she was at the end of
it. Whether I studiously ignored the fact of the engagement be-
tween her and Carr, or whether I had thoughts of entering the lists
against him in spite of it, I don't know. I never said, even to
myself, that I loved her, until to-night. I was in a dream. How
rudely have I been awakened from it !
The steamboat arrived here just after daylight this morning.
After breakfast I walked over to Mr. White's and was warmly
greeted by his household himself, his wife, and Mr. Hamilton.
I learn, by the way, that the latter is formally installed pastor of
the church in this village. Mr. White offered me his horse, and I
HEAETBROKEN. 149
started for Manahio. Before I reached the creek I met Jacobus,
and got the following budget of news : Mr. Carr, the Judge, is in
Baton Kotige ; Miss Harwood and her brother are keeping house
at Harwood, having moved over there shortly after my departure
for Baltimore, For the last month Miss Eet has had a guest, a
relation of her mother's family, Miss Lucy, or Lucille Latour. Mr.
Charley spent most of his time at Harwood, and was there that
moment.
I wonder now that the truth did not flash upon me while the
negro was speaking, for I remember the leer upon his black face
when he said " Mars'r Charley pooty nigh live at Harwood now !"
But I was only conscious that a half hour more would bring me to
the presence of my idol, and, spurring my horse on the road to
Harwood, I soon forgot everything else. When I reached the
house there were evident signs of habitation about it. The win-
dows were open. There were chairs on the broad verandah. I
heard a sweet voice singing a French song, and the piano accom-
panimentthe sounds issuing from the drawing-room, where I
saw her last. While I fastened my horse at the rack, where
Charley's was already standing, I heard a man's voice join in the
chorus, and recognized Carr's magnificent bass. I walked up the
steps, and into the room through one of the French windows, and
was clasped around the waist in a moment by Herbert, who ex-
claimed :
" Oh, Ret ! here's Cousin Harry !"
The music suddenly stopped, and Ret came forward, holding
her hand out to me. I took it an instant and dropped it, for I
was awake at last ! When I entered the room she and Carr were
standing at the piano, his arm around her waist, and the bright
smile upon his handsome face told me how happy he was. I
hardly looked at Miss Latour when Carr introduced me, for I
was watching Miss Harwood, and noticing the embarrassment of
her manner. Women know things by intuition, and I suppose
she knew that I knew how matters stood between her and
Charley. We talked a little about my absence and about the
changes that had occurred while I AYas away, until I asked for a
renewal of the music.
" Come, Cousin Lucy," said Herbert, " come, sing that song once
more."
u Yes, come on Lucille," said Charley, " there is another stanza.
Listen, Harry, to the sweetest music you ever heard. I mean the
150 HARWOOD.
bass part, of course !" They went to the piano again and Bet re-
mained upon the sofa.
" You were singing when I came in," I said to her ; " I hope you
will allow me to hear you once more."
" I was not singing 5 I do not sing," she answered.
The song commenced again and we were silent. When it was
finished, I selected an English song and asked Miss Latour to sing
that. She complied with a great deal of grace, and sang it charm-
ingly, her little accent making it only more piquant. She speaks
one language about as fluently as the other, though I judge she
prefers her native tongue.
" I owe you a drubbing, Master Harry, " said Charley, when we
were all out on the verandah, " for going away without seeing
me, and I intend to give it to you now. Herbert, go get your
foils and masks."
" Oh, that will be charming!" said Miss Latour. "Here, you
shall fight on the lawn, and I will crown the victor ;" so saying,
she began to collect some flowers, which were growing luxuriantly
all around the verandah, and with nimble fingers twined them into
a wreath.
" Well, I know whose temples that wreath will adorn," said
Charley, grasping his foil. "Come on Harry, and meet your
fate !"
" I have already met it !" I answered, as I followed him. As I
passed Eet I caught her eye. She had heard me and was looking
at me earnestly and sadly. Oh, Eet ! does she know how misera-
ble I am ?
I went through the salutations mechanically, and there were
two or three introductory passes before I gave my attention to
the business on hand. She was sitting there looking at me, and
suddenly I determined to conquer. Carr was fencing with his
accustomed skill and confidence, but I attacked him vigorously,
and at last touched him. slightly on the breast.
" Hit, by Jove !" he said, dropping his point.
" Not quite, not quite !" exclaimed Miss Latour, dropping her
hands. u Try again. 7 '
u Yes," I said, " we won't count that. Come on."
We struggled five minutes longer, and Carr's hand raised sud-
denly, and I knew he was going to give me his favourite thrust,
en seconde. If I had not caught it so frequently before in our
various encounters he would have had me, but I parried the
HEARTBROKEN. 151
thrust and disarmed him the next instant. I bowed to him, and
taking off my mask, I knelt at the little French lady's feet, while
she placed the wreath 011 my head.
" How pale you are,' 7 she said, as I rose.
" Am I pale f 7 and I felt the blood rushing back to my face.
" No, not now. Charles, mon ami? she added in French, " what
a handsome fellow your friend is f
" Very," said Charley in the same language, " and he also un-
derstands French ! 77
Miss Latour blushed scarlet, and everybody else laughed. She
made some slight attempt at explanation and apology, and as
Carr continued to laugh, she ran into the house. During the
morning Miss Ear wood made two or three attempts to entertain
me, but I could perceive the restraint which she tried to hide. If
it were not for the ever present dread that she also knows that I
love her, I think I could better endure my own sorrow. But the
thought that she has penetrated my secret, and pities me, drives
me mad ! I would have pleaded business in town and left 5 but my
horse was put away, and I had not energy enough to make the
effort. I knew that Carr would oppose, and I did not wish to
contend with him. He was so obstreperously happy and jolly that
my long face must have offered a fine contrast. Herbert hung
about me, and asked several times " what the dickens was the
matter with me f 7 After dinner Charley and I lighted our cigars and
walked out on the lawn. I had put my arm through the wreath
and it attracted his attention as we started for our walk.
" Look here, Harry,' 7 he said, " I am going to fight you again
for that wreath.' 7
" I'll give it to you," I said, " that is if you won't tell Miss
Latour."
" I'd rather fight for it," he said.
" Well, here are the foils. Let's have it out at once."
" With this understanding," said Carr, " I am to hit you once,
to make us even, and then I am to hit you again for the wreath."
" Agreed.' 7 He was very eager, and in a few minutes he had
the prize on his arm. Why should I grudge him this poor
triumph ?
" You did not fence half so well this time," said Charley, doubt-
fully.
" Indeed, I did my best. The ladies were not looking at us this
time, and I missed the inspiration.' 7
152 EAEWOOD.
" By Jupiter ! I believe I lost this morning because she was look-
ing on/ 7 said Carr. " Hubbard, my friend, I am going to tell you
a secret.' 7
" Let us sit down here," I said. Now, I thought, if there is
enough manhood in me to endure the formal recital of all that I
had seen, it will be put to the test. We sat down in the shadow of
a fig tree on the lawn, and he was too much interested in his own
happiness to notice me very closely.
" I am going to be married "
" So I supposed," I answered calmly. u Come now, skip all about
your happiness and her sweetness. I will take all that for
granted."
" Well, I thought while Herbert was getting the foils and we
four were standing together on the gallery, that we would make
two very passable looking couples to stand up before the parson."
" No doubt about the beauty of the ladies anyhow," I replied,
" and the less we say about their partners the better."
" I am sure your beauty is established upon the very best author-
ity. Poor Lucille ! She never dreamed of your understanding
Erench. You see we have been talking about you during your
absence, for I had set my heart upon having you for groomsman,
and Lucille has been anxiously waiting to inspect you, to see if
you would do."
" Have you consulted Miss Harwood on the subject *P I asked.
I was holding myself in an iron grasp, trampling upon a thousand
thoughts, as they arose in my mind.
u Undoubtedly. She approves of my choice entirely. Dear Eet
gives you credit for first knocking the foundations from under my
free-thinking theories. I told her of our conversation on the sub-
ject, just before I went to New Orleans. You know I am no longer
an infidel."
" I am heartily glad to hear it, dear Carr," I replied, shaking
his offered hand. " And now, dear friend, will you do me a kind-
ness, a real kindness f '
"Why, Harry! what ails you*?" answered Carr, in amazement at
my excitement. " I will do anything you ask me."
" Then do not talk to me any more about yonr marriage until
the time arrives." He gazed with wondering eyes at me as I con-
tinued. u Dear Charley, since I saw you last something has hap-
pened. I know you will not ask me what it is, but I tell you this
much something has occurred to me since we parted, or has
HEAETBEOKEN. 153
been revealed to me at least, that has inflicted a wound which no
time can heal. I look for nothing in this life but grace to endure.
Alas ! I am not the lighthearted boy to whom you were so kind?
and who learned to love you so soon. I am a man, old in sorrow
and in self-denial. Do not look at me with those sorrowful eyes, or
I shall break down."
" I suspect I know, or guess, Harry. It was in Baltimore, was
it?"
" No. Don't ask me any questions," and I stamped violently.
" I only wish to say to you that while the wound is so sore any
talk of marriage maddens me. Will you bear with me a little
while P
" Surely. If you would rather not be groomsman "
" But I am not going to allow you to recall that invitation. I
hope I am equal to the emergency. My new manhood is harden-
ing day by day, and I shall be placid enough soon."
" And happy, Harry, I hope."
" Nevermore," I said, pressing his hand. " When are you to be
made happy?"
" Next month, I hope. She says October. I wanted to be mar-
ried sooner. But she vows she won't be married this summer."
Her last words to me were that she would not be married this
summer !
" It is all settled then," I said, as we walked toward the house.
" I will be ready when you want me."
The ladies and Herbert were seated on the verandah. The boy
had a handsome cane in his hand which he brought to me, saying
bashfully :
"I wanted to make a nice speech, dear cousin Harry, when I gave
you this. Please take it with my love. I got Charley to buy it for
me while he was in New Orleans, but you went away before he
got back. I wrote to him the day after you and I were swim-
" I thank you, cousin, for your beautiful present, and I shall value
it very highly for your sake. Why, it is a sword cane !"
" Yes, pull it out," said Herbert. The blade is broad and strong,
and as long as the cane. It is truly a formidable weapon.
" I walked down Chartres street," said Carr, "after I received
Herbert's letter, and I met Captain Delaney in one of the stores.
He was buying a cane exactly like this, and I thought I could trust
his judgment. You see it is not at all like the ordinary blades you
154 HAH WOOD.
find in sword canes. It is a regular sword blade, and if you can
manage it as well as you did the foil this morning, you need not
be "
" But you have got the crown," said Lucille.
" Yes, ma belle. We fought for it fairly. I hifc him twice, plump
and fair, and he was obliged to relinquish it."
I came away at dark. After I got to town I tried to write a
brief account of the day's proceedings, but I had been subjected to
severe tension all day, and there was a reaction. I feel wonder-
fully calm now; and wonderfully miserable too.
After I had tried in vain to record in my diary all that I have
now written, I started out for a walk. I suppose it was nearly
or quite ten o'clock. I walked out on the Baton Eouge road, and
noticed nothing until I arrived at the bank of the Manahio. I
wanted to go to the Laurels. I don't know why, but I was first con-
scious of this desire when I found the creek rippling between me
and the trees. The obstacle only served to interest me a little, but
did not cause me to alter my intention for a moment. I slipped
off my boots and trousers and waded across at the usual ford, and
then sat down on the soft grass and dressed. I had enough sense
left to remember that there might be snakes in the long grass, and
to replace my boots. I then walked into the grove and sat down
at the root of one of the big trees. I heard nothing but the chirp
of ten millions of insects in the trees, the croak of frogs in the
distant bayou, and the murmur of the stream. I thought of the
affectionate boy whose life I had saved at that spot, and tried to
resolve that I would exert the influence I might have over him to
do him good, not only for his sake, but also for the sake of another
who loved him. I tried not to think of her, but it was so recently
that she sat there just before me, while her horse pawed the ground
impatiently. Then I thought of the legend which had peopled this
locality with horrors, and I rose to my feet involuntarily and
glanced round the grove. Why should I deny that I felt my heart
thumping painfully against my ribs as I descried a figure slowly
and noiselessly advancing into the area ? There was a cloud over
the moon and I could only see the outljnes of a tall form, which
seemed to be human, but which moved, without a sound. I had
my new cane in my hand, and instinctively drew the sword, and
advanced a step from the shadow of the tree. As I drew near I
thought I recognized Misty, and a moment after he spoke.
" Young chief come back ? Welcome ! Shake hand !"
I slipped the sword back into the sheath, and cordially greeted
HEARTBROKEN. 155
iny old friend. He was very much changed in appearance. He
still wore his hunting shirt, but the leggings were gone. He had
a tomahawk and knife in a broad belt, which also bore a bullet
pouch. His powder horn was suspended under his left arm by a
thong, and he carried his rifle in his hand. On his head was a
cap made of raccoon skin, with several feathers stuck in it. There
was no sign of intoxication about him. Altogether he looked like
a warrior. He noticed my surprise, and spoke again.
" Misteono hunter no longer. Warrior again. Let the young
chief go to Indian's wigwam, and get the skin of the tiger cat.
Misteono dressed it for young brother."
" You don't mean to-night, my friend F
" !N"o, no !" he answered. " Birne-by. Brother find the skin and
take it. Misteono going away."
"Where are you going, chief P I asked.
"Yes, chief again ! Misteono's tribe is on war path. Chief
going to lead them !"
" When are you going, Misteono P
" Soon go. Want one scalp to take back to my tribe. Get it
bimeby."
At this instant I heard voices and the tramp of horses' hoofs.
The Indian held up his finger to enjoin silence, and listened in-
tently. The sounds came nearer, and I heard some one say,
" Not to-night, d n it. I don't half like this neighbourhood
after dark !"
" Pooh ! don't be a fool !" said the other. " Come on, I want to
look at these trees." I thought I recognized this voice, and almost
as he spoke the two came into view, through the bushes.
They saw us, just as I recognized Captain Delaney and Becket.
The latter wrenched his horse round, saying,
u There are the Densons, I swear!" and he galloped off, followed
by Delaney. The moon was shining on their faces, and I could
detect the look of horror which sprang into them as they caught
sight of us in the shade of the trees. In a few minutes we lost
the sound of their horses' hoofs.
" Cap'n brave warrior," said the Indian, a he not come back to-
night. Young chief going back ? Misteono go to wigwam. Good
night."
This was a queer adventure, and it has set me to thinking. I
will overhaul those letters again to-morrow. I have an idea ! I
am happy to say that I am weary at last, and I believe I shall
sleep a little.
156 EARWOOD.
CHAPTEE XXI.
EECOGNITION.
THURSDAY, August 5, 1836.
I HA YE read a little of yesterday's record to-night, aiid I am
half ashamed of myself. I am twenty to-day, and ought to
be man enough to endure the rubs of this life. I have been going
about to-day, and feel much more like my old self. Perhaps I may
be able to look back upon these trials when the wounds heal up ?
and see how they have done me good. If this wedding were only
over, and the whole thing finally settled !
Mr. Gowrie keeps a store here, and ships cotton for the neigh"
bouring planters. He is a thorough Scot, with high cheek bones
and sandy hair and whiskers. He takes snuff, and it is a treat to
see him helping his little turned-up nose to its refreshment. He
is snappish and cross-grained, but is honest and intelligent. I
think he is rather a favourite with his clients. I walked down to
his establishment this morning, as I saw Becket there, and
wanted to hear if he was telling his adventure of last night, but
he was not. He and Gowrie had been disputing about the ship-
ment of some cotton, and as I stepped upon Gowrie's gallery I
heard him say,
" I'll no do it, Maister Becket. I wadna alter my books for the
whole Harwood plantation."
" I might as well talk to a stone as to you," replied the over-
seer. " Good morning, Mr. Hubbard. By-the-bye, you are from
Maryland. Did you ever go down to tne mouth of the Chesa-
peake in one of those pungy schooners that do the turtle fishing *P
" No, sir."
" Well, I have. I'll tell you how they manage the beasts. After
they get them on deck, they just head them off till the turtle gets
his foolish head against the mast. Then they are safe. They
will keep butting away at that mast while the voyage lasts. We
always called them Scotchnim, because they were so darned ob-
stinate and stupid. Good morning," and he rode off.
" Ay, ay," said Mr. Gowrie, u walk in, sir. So yon chap is a
countryman of yours F
" I don't know, sir. I am a Marylander, but I never saw him
until I came here. May I ask what the difficulty is between you?"
RECOGNITION. 157
" Oh, just nothing. I have always shipped the Harwood cotton,
aud I believe the young leddy has been investigating Mr. Beckefs
accounts. Anyway, he wanted rue to give him a statement of
shipments under false dates, but I would not do it. That's all."
" You were perfectly right, sir," said I.
" Why, one might as well tell a lie with his tongue as with his
pen, ye know. I am too auld to begin that business."
" I am sure you would never violate the truth, Mr. Gowrie.
' Lord of the Isles, my trust in thee
Is strong as Ailsa rock.' "
" Ay, ay," replied the Scot dryly. " But I wadna quot at all,
if I were you, unless I could quot correctly."
" Do you mean, sir," said I, half amused and half offended,
" that I have misquoted Sir Walter."
"Just so. Sir Walter never wrote the lines as you quotfd
them."
" I would be willing to lay a small wager that you are mis-
taken, Mr. Gowrie. I read Sir Walter very constantly, and the
passage from the Lord of the Isles I read only to-day."
" Weel, it is a puir cause that has to be bolstered up by a bet,"
and Mr. Gowrie walked into an inner room and returned with a
well thumbed volume. u Here is the book, and ye can satisfy
yourself."
I soon found the passage, and sure enough I had changed a
word. " It is 'firm ? as Ailsa rock, Mr. Gowrie. I acknowledge
my error."
" It is no guid to be too positive, ye see," said Mr. Gowrie, with
a grin of satisfaction. " I was sure of the case, because I know the
pome almaist by heart; besides, I am. weel acquaint with the local-
ity, having seen Ailsa Craig more than once, when I lived in
Glasgow."
" Are you from Glasgow f I inquired, with sudden interest.
" Yes, I was born near the city, and lived there a gude mony
years."
" Did you ever know or hear of Hector Macailan, of Linmuir ?"
" Macailan !" and he stared at me with astonishment. " And
where did you hear that name F
" I have seen the name in some family papers in my possession.
If you know anything about this laird, I should like to ask you a
question or two."
Io8 HARWOOD.
11 Ye may ask the questions, and I'll tell you no lies if I ain not
able to give you the information you want."
" Did you know Mr. Macailan, of Lininuir '!"
" Yes, I knew such a mon."
li Did you ever see a Mr. Denham, who visited Mr. Macailan
thirty years ago F
" It is just possible that I did. Fd rather ye wad not be so
particular about names, ye see."
"Well, then, please answer me one more question. Have you
ever seen here, in Carrville, anybody that knew Macailan, or that
you knew in Glasgow ?"
" Come into the back room, Mr. Hubbard. Jamie ! Jamie V A
small likeness of Mr. Gowrie answered the summons and came
forward. " Keep a look out a wee bit, laddie. I am gaun into
the counting room. Call me if anybody comes." So saying, he
led the way into his counting room, at the back of the building.
He handed me a chair, and then perched himself upon a high
stool that stood at the desk.
" Ye seem to be a respectable young mou, Mr. Hubbard. I
have seen you twice at the church, and ye listened to the minister
instead of gaping round the church, as most young men do. I
think the better of you, too, because ye can read Walter Scott.
I'll find ye plenty of young men in this town that can quotf < Don
Juan' for you by the yard; but not many that ever heard of
4 The Lord of the Isles.' "
" Walter Scott is a great favourite of mine, sir ; though he is
rather hard upon Presbyterians sometimes."
" Weel, let him have his fling ! What was it you were wanting
to ask ? Ye need not just call people by their names. I can un-
derstand you without that."
" I have reason to think that a man is sometimes in Carrville,
under a different name, who once visited Mr. Macailau in Scot-
land. It concerns me very much to be certain of the fact, as I
might be able to thwart some evil intentions of his."
"It is vera curious but John Harwood said vera much the
same thing to me the night before he died."
" He probably had the same reasons." Mr. Gowrie looked at
me very curiously. " I'll tell you in confidence, Mr. Gowrie that
I am related to the Harwoods, though they do not know it, and I
do not wish them to know it at present. You need not hesitate to
trust me. I hope I shall do whatever I do in the fear of God."
RECOGNITION. 159
" I'll no deny,'' said Mr. Gowrie after a pause, " that I have seen
a person here, and also in Pensacola, who vera much resembles a
friend of Macallan's. He is an aulder man than he was thirty
years ago, but he looks vera much the same." Here Jamie called
his father, who slid down from his stool. " Ye need na' refer to
me as having given ye any information," he added, cautiously, as
we left the office " ye know that I am only positive about a re-
semblance after all !' 7
I am going to Harwood again to-morrow.
FRIDAY, August 6, 1836.
This has been an eventful day. I spent most of the morning in
a revision of Bet's bundle of letters, and I Came to the conclusion
that the lead-covered box is hidden somewhere in the Haunted
Laurels. The three trees stand in a triangle almost a right
angle. I have seen them again to-day, and have decided just
where the probable spot is, namely, on a line between the two
trees most remote from each other because that line is the
hypothenuse of the triangle and nine feet from the tree that
stands on the margin of the creek. I had noticed several times
the relative position of these trees, and the other night when I
was there I remember that the well known problem about the
"sum of the squares of the base and perpendicular being
equal to the square of the hypothenuse," kept coming into my
mind. That, joined to the fact that Delaney who has somehow
got some information on the subject had the hardihood to visit
the spot near midnight, occurred to me while I was writing in my
journal, after I had returned to town on Wednesday night. I am
going to make a thorough investigation to-morrow.
After dinner, when I had the pleasure of seeing the spruce cap-
tain who however did not pay any attention to me I got Mr.
White's horse and went to Harwood. I stopped at the Laurels
only long enough to notice the exact localities a little more par-
ticularly. I am hastening to record my interview with Bet, which
is to me the most interesting of the events of the day.
The doors and windows were all open when I reached the house,
but no one was visible. I rang the bell, and Phany came imme-
diately. I asked for Miss Bet, and learning that she was at home
I walked into the drawing room, while Phany went to announce
me. When she came I was startled to see that she wore a white
dress though there were black ribbons about her person. She
160 EAEWOOD.
looked so different but oh, so lovely ! There was also something
in her manner betokening her constant consciousness of her ap-
proaching happiness a nervous and hurried manner of speaking.
Heaven forgive me ! I cannot help feeling that she does not
love Charley Carr as much as she thinks she does ! But I have
promised myself to bury that subject out of sight.
"Lucille has gone with Charles and Herbert to Mr. Maltby's,"
she said, after a few commonplaces about the weather. " Lucille
wished to ride Midnight, and I have been left to my own resources
all day."
" I am glad it has so happened," I answered, " as I want to talk
to you a little. Carr has asked me to assist at a certain cere-
mony "
" Yes, yes !" she said hurriedly, " he told me. Are those the
letters you got from me P
" Yes ;" and I gave her the packet. She touched a bell on the
table, and Phany appeared.
' Phany, go bring the black box from my room. You have done
with the letters T she said inquiringly.
"For the present yes. Though I have something to say to
you about them."
" That will do, Phany," said she, as she took the box. The boy
vanished, and she replaced the packet in the closet in the chimney
jamb. She then resumed her seat, and looked at me, waiting with
apparent anxiety for the next word.
" When you gave me the letters I presume you thought your
cousins in Baltimore were Barnard Harwood's widow and chil-
dren ; is it not so F
" Certainly."
" They are not. Mrs. Harwood is the widow of Allen Harwood,
who was supposed " She had leaned forward, covering her
face with her hands, and I saw the tears coming through her fin-
gers. I never could endure the sight of a grown woman shedding
tears, and I was greatly shocked.
" Miss Harwood ! Eet! shall I ring the bell f You are ill !
" No, no !" she said, without looking up. " Go on."
" I have a letter here which Mr. Harwood left for his son. I
thought you perhaps would like to read it, and have brought it
with me."
" Oh yes !" she said, taking my father's letter. " Will you ex-
cuse me a little while ? There are some books on the table. I
will return presently."
EEGOONITION. 161
I waited a long time it seemed hours but she did not return.
I opened the books but I don't know what they were about.
Then I went to the piano, and ran my fingers over the keys.
There is a composition of Beethoven's which I learned long ago
I forget the name of it and I began to play it. As I went on
with it I grew calmer and sadder. While I was playing she came
back. She stood by the piano, and I thought the melancholy
strains of the music affected her, for her eyes were still moist.
" You seem to play with great feeling," she said, when I left the
instrument. " You don't look as happy as you should be."
" Who I I ? I am not happy. Are you pleased to know that
your relations are not the family of Barnard F
" I have been in my room," she answered, gravely and solemnly
" trying to thank my beneficent Father for the unspeakable joy
this letter has brought to me f and she gave me back my letter.
" I cannot understand why you should feel differently."
" I was intrusted with another letter," I said, and I gave her my
Mother's ; " if you will read it now, I will go back to Beethoven ;"
and I went through the piece again. I looked round at her once
or twice while I was playing, and I saw her brush the tears from
her eyes as she refolded the letter, though her face was like sun-
shine.
"Do you know the contents of my letter?" she asked.
" Not one word of it."
u I will perhaps let you see it at another time," she said, putting
the letter in her key box ; "I want to read it again before I decide
upon that point. And now please to tell me why you are not
happy."
" Do not ask me, Miss Harwood."
" You called me * Eet ' just now !"
" Did I ? Pardon me, I did not know it until it was too late."
"You wished me to call you cousin Harry two months ago.
Have you changed your mind since then ?"
" No indeed ! I wish "
" You wish what ?"
" I wish I might venture to call you cousin Eet," I said.
" Well, you may, cousin Harry. You see I set you the example.
Didn't you risk your life to save Herbert's F she said impetuously,
the tears springing to her dear eyes again.
I took her hand and kissed it. Oh how near I was to an insane
confession of everything my relationship, and my love ! I don't
11
162 HARWOOD.
know what restrained me. I walked away to the window, and
stood there, with my back to her, resolutely choking down every
thought and impulse while I reflected that I must tell her before
long that I was her cousin, as I was not willing to wait upon her
bridegroom under an assumed Lame.
" You will not allow me to offer you any consolation because
you will not tell me why you require it. Something has occurred
since you left Louisiana, which you have not told me P
" You are so much changed since I first saw you," I replied,
avoiding her look. " Then you were composed and self-possessed
though you were sad; now you are nervous and impetuous
yet I do not believe you are much less melancholy. By-the-bye,
I will bring Burton out to you to read."
"You also are changed since you saved Herbert's life. Before,
you were cheerful and apparently contented; now, you are
moody and restless and mysterious."
" I cannot tell you the cause of my unhappiness because I
know your kind heart would Oh cousin! there is an im-
pending calamity ever before my eyes ! I cannot escape it do
what I will. And I am trying to fortify myself in advance try-
ing to see clearly the path of duty and honour, and trying to banish
every selfish consideration that might lead me astray. It is a dire
struggle but you cannot help me. I must go through this trial
alone."
"You have told me nothing about my cousin Alice and her
children," she said suddenly ; " are they well T '
" Quite well all of them."
" Are you sure P
" Yes. I saw them the day I left Baltimore. They are all well
and happy."
" I shall ask you no more questions, but I intend to unravel
this mystery in my own way. Have you seen Captain Delaney P
" Yes," I replied, with a start ; " it was about him that I wished
to talk to you. I saw him at midnight on Wednesday at the
Laurels."
" What were you doing at the Laurels at midnight P
" I nothing. I was not well and could not sleep, so I walked
out there and stayed an hour. Never mind me, but listen to what
I have to tell you."
" Stop a moment !" she said, while the blood rushed into her
face. "You were here on Wednesday. Did Charles say any-
RECOGNITION. 163
thing do anything that displeased or troubled you! Answer
me, if you please."
" Nothing nothing I Carr has been my constant friend, and
has never given me a nioment 7 s pain at least not intentionally."
She looked steadily at me while I spoke.
" What were you saying under the fig tree yonder ? I saw you
from my window, and I saw that you were violently agitated."
" You must have fancied that. Carr was telling me about his
marriage " I got the word out with an effort " and we talked
about very little else."
" What did he say about me I" she asked, quietly.
"NotMng except that you did not object to my participation
in the ceremony." As I looked into her bright eyes and upon her
burning cheeks I almost gave way again, but I did not. u If you
don't want to drive me mad please talk about something else."
" I am satisfied, Now for Captain Delaney !"
" In the first place, then, he has written a letter which he signed
' Mark Denham.' I saw it, and I saw him in Baltimore. The
writing is precisely like that in those letters signed f Nemo' in
your packet. If you remember Allen Harwood's letter to his son
you will recollect that a Mr. Denham informed him of your father's
death fifteen or twenty years before it occurred. I believe Captain
Delaney was the author of that epistle, also."
" Do you think he is Mark Denham ?"
" I do. While I think of it, I wish to say that he is very inti-
mate with your overseer Becket. I have seen them frequently
together. Becket was with him at the Laurels the other night.
They saw me and the Indian half hidden in the shade of the trees
and took us for ghosts of the Densons. They were frightened
and galloped away. Now, this Denham is capable of any villany,
and I think you should watch your overseer."
u He is going to leave Harwood next week. I have reason to
think indeed I know that he is not strictly honest. Herbert has
undertaken the management of the plantation himself."
" I advise you to keep watch in the meantime. Do not think
me foolish 5 but I am labouring under a constant presentiment of
evil to come from the hands of this bad man. Will you ask Her-
bert to invite me to stay here at night for three or four nights to
come ? Don't look at me so reproachfully ! If the evil that I
dread threatens you I would be here to guard you."
" I am sorry you think a formal invitation necessary. While
164 HABWOOD.
Herbert lives and while I live you will be more than welcome at
Harwood, at any hour, day or night, for all time to come."
" I thank you, and I regret that I asked for an invitation. I
will happen to be here then. Now, please understand the case. I
don't want to say anything to Charley, because I don't want to
alarm him, and I don't want him to know all that we know. It
would seem to be more proper for him to stay here "
" It would be very improper," she said, her cheeks burning
again. " Your arrangement is the best."
" Well, let Herbert ride a little way with me this evening on
the near road to town. If I once see the road I shall know it
hereafter. I want to walk out here after dark and return early
in the morning. I want to happen to visit you ladies and Herbert
for two or three evenings consecutively. I will bring my violin
and some music, and if I am so forgetful as to remain until late
you will offer me the hospitality of Harwood. Is it agreed F She
bowed her head. " Well, now about the lead-covered box. I be-
lieve it is buried in the Laurel Grove, and I believe Denham
thinks so, too. I have been jumping at conclusions female fashion
lately "
" Female fashion! what do you mean, sir?"
" I mean, by the exercise of that rare faculty of intuition by
which women arrive at facts without the trouble of logical deduc-
tion. You need not frown," I continued, laughing, " it is a much
higher faculty than any possessed by men. Do not suppose, I
implore you, that I am so base as to think or speak slightingly of
women. I have a Mother and two sisters."
" Yes 5 I know you have," she answered, composedly.
" Indeed ! and where did you get the information ?"
"From various sources. From Mr. Hamilton, after you went
away, and from yourself before that, and from other testimony
since you returned."
A light suddenly dawned upon me. What a blind ninny I have
been !
"Oh, Bet," I said, "do you indeed know that I am your
cousin F
" How could you doubt it, cousin Herbert ! how could you other-
wise account for my behaviour ! Do you think Mr. Hubbard, with
all his fascinations, could have arrived at the present stage of in-
timacy with my Father's daughter !"
I suppose I looked as bewildered as I felt, for she threw herself
back in her chair and laughed heartily.
RECOGNITION. 165
" When you have done laughing/ 7 1 said pettishly, " I should
like to ask you a question."
" I am sober again, cousin," she answered, wiping her eyes ;
" but you looked so comical just now that I could not help it," and
here she went off again.
" I suppose you and Carr have amused yourselves enormously
at my expense," said I, beginning to get in a rage.
" Come, sir, that is unkind and impolite," she replied, gravely 5
"no one knows your secret. I don't know why you changed
your name, but I have never felt at liberty to tell even Herbert.
I don't know when I first began to suspect you, but you sealed the
packet of letters when you returned them the first time with that
seal on your watch chain, I suppose. Let me see it. Yes ! it is
the Harwood arms and motto, * Che sard sard. 7 I thought you
were Barnard's son, and I have had many a good, quiet cry since
you went away, thinking over those fatal letters."
" Please keep the secret a little longer, dear cousin. I want to
circumvent Mr. Denham, and I am stronger while he is ignorant
of my true name. But I did not change my name," and I told her
all the story, just as it occurred.
" Tou are remarkably bashful, indeed, sir," said Eet, when I
had concluded 5 " but I can understand how you allowed the mis-
take to pass at first and how the peculiarity of the position em-
barrassed you with each addition to the number of acquaintances.
Pray, how do you intend to enlighten everybody when you resume
your own more euphonious name F
" I don't intend to trouble myself about that," I answered in-
differently 5 u so that my Mends understand the case I care no-
thing about voxpopuli."
" If you will allow me to say so, cousin, I think this is a defect
in your character. I have seen it manifested more than once.
You owe it to yourself and to society to maintain a spotless repu-
tation in all things. I do not mean that public opinion should
have the slightest influence upon you where any principle may be
involved, but you are bound to see that your influence over men
is not damaged by your indifference. Your influence is a talent
for which you are responsible to God, who gave it."
" If I had you for my mentor, dear cousin," I answered sadly,
" my life might be made to accord with the perfect law so far as
poor humanity can attain to perfection."
" You have been blessed with a far better mentor," she said,
166 HARWOOD.
blushing a little ; " here is your Mother's letter. You may read it
now.' 7 As the letter is not long I will copy it here ;
BALTIMORE, July 12, 1836.
My dear Cousin : Herbert's intelligence of his new found kin-
dred in Louisiana has filled ine with gratitude to God for His good-
ness, and wonder and adoration for His special providence. All
that I know of you, my dear, I know from reading my son's jour-
nal, and as I know that he has written nothing but the truth, I
have learned to love you though I have not seen you. I have left
him to select his own time to reveal himself, under the name he
bears, to every one in that far-off country who has been deceived
by his careless indifference. He thinks you have not penetrated
his secret, but I can see that you know him. As I am well ac-
quainted with all the circumstances attending the early life of my
dear husband, I know that the children of his cousin John would
have been peculiarly dear to him if he had lived to see them. And
I can also understand how easily you were led into the supposi-
tion that I and my children were the family of Barnard Harwood.
If we had heard of your existence in the same way we should have
arrived at the same conclusion concerning you. I feel that I shall
see you some day and will love you the more the more I know
you. Herbert does not know what I have written. He has not
asked to see this letter. Write to me, my dear child, and believe
rue Your loving cousin, ALICE HA.RWOOD.
11 And now, sir," said Ret, imperatively, as I gave her back the
letter, " I want to see your journal, if you please."
" Not for a million worlds !" I exclaimed, starting up in horror.
" I desire to know, sir," continued she, without noticing my
exclamation, " what you have written about we."
4 i That is precisely what you must not know," I replied. " Mother
is a wonderfully wise woman, but she don't know everything? She
was silenced. No doubt she conjectured some part of the truth.
I'll be hanged if I don't believe she would discuss the matter of
my loving her with every drop of my blood, with every breath I
draw, and with every impulse of my life, in as cool and business-
like a manner as possible. She would demonstrate the folly of
my passion, and show me how the straight path of duty must be
pursued through a life of self-denial and usefulness. It is all true,
but these reflections do not restore to my heart its former vigorous
and cheerful pulses.
RECOGNITION. 167
I came away just as Carr and his companions returned. Herbert
came all the way to town with me, and took my violin and music
out with him. I have promised him to walk out to-night after
mail duties are over.
HAEWOOD. MIDNIGHT.
When I had finished with the mail, I walked over to the hotel
and went into the playing room. Judge Carr was there, playing
euchre with Captain Delaney. I was seated at one of the tables
near them, and overheard Delaney say " game !" Mr. Carr looked
anxious aud excited. They whispered a while, and then Delaney
said, loud enough for me to hear, as he was shuffling the cards,
" the whole debt now against the mortgage. Cut I" I walked over
to their table and held out my hand to Mr. Carr, as I had not seen
him before since my return. He shook hands with me and was
very affable.
" Will you please let me say a few words to you, sir/' I said. " I
must get some information from you before the mail closes."
He rose from his seat, and I led the way out of the room. He
followed down stairs and stopped when I reached the street.
" Where are you going, Mr. Hubbard f" he said.
" Only to the post-office, sir. Please walk down there with me.
I will not detain you long."
I let myself into the office, and then went through the door into
the store-room, and admitted him. I lighted a candle, and we sat
down for a talk.
" I bought the Copper stock for you, sir."
" Good Heavens ! Did you not receive my letter P
" No, sir. I got no letter from you. Mr. Callahan did not know
your Christian name, and he has filled up the certificate in my
name. There is a torin of transfer on the back, and I will fill it up
at once, if you will tell me your initials.
" I am not able to pay for this stock, sir," said Mr. Carr, in great
excitement. "I wrote to you immediately after you left, directing
my letter to the Hudson Hotel, as you told me. I have drawn all
the money my crop will bring, and more too."
" That is a matter of no consequence, my dear sir. I paid for
the stock with my own money, and you can repay me whenever it
suits your convenience. The stock is enormously valuable, and
you can sell it to-day at twenty times its cost."
" If this is true, Mr. Hubbard," replied he, absently, " why should
you not take the stock yourself F
168 HAEWOOD.
" I should be very glad to have it, Mr. Carr 5 but, of course, I shall
do no such thing. I do not need the money, and if you don't wish
to retain this stock, I will order Mr. Callahan to sell it at once for
your account. You will receive enough to replace the value of
your crop for this year at least."
" Please let the matter stand, then, as it is," he said, rising ; " I
will see you again to-morrow. I must go back to Delaney. He
will be impatient."
" Mr. Carr." He stopped. " I did not bring you here, sir, merely
to talk about the stock. I implore you to get your horse, and go
home without seeing Delaney again. I know that he is a great
scoundrel, and I know that he is cheating you."
" By what right and upon what evidence do you dare to say so ?"
said Mr. Carr in astonishment. "Do you know that your life
would not be worth an hour's purchase if I repeated to Delaney
what you have just said P
" 1 will save you the trouble of repeating it, sir," I answered
coolly 5 " if you go back to the playing room I shall go with you,
and say it to Delaney myself."
" Are you mad, Mr. Hubbard ? Delaney would shoot you with
as little compunction as "
" I do not fear to incur the risk, sir. I happen to know some
portion of his former history, and I know he is a villain. If you
wish to hear what evidence I have of his present rascality, I will
tell you that I saw his handkerchief spread over his knees just now,
and saw the knaves of hearts and diamonds lying upon it. He
intends to play them at the proper moment, and get possession
of the mortgage." He started as I said this, and I went on. " If
you will get your horse and go ho me- it will be the best course. I
will walk with you as far as Harwood. If you decide to go back
and lose the mortgage, and thus leave Charley penniless for I
know how much you are involved I swear to you that I will pre-
vent it, by charging Delaney with his thieving before all the people
in the room. If I cannot otherwise prevail upon you to quit play-
ing with him, at once and forever, I will try this last step. In
honour you do not* owe him one cent, so your debt to him is nothing.
Be persuaded, sir, to go with me to-night, and think over the mat-
ter. You can ruin yourself as well to-morrow."
He was vanquished. We went back together to the hotel, and
looking into the playing room we saw Delaney engaged in a four-
hand game.
RECOGNITION. 169
" You must excuse me to-night, Delaney," said the Judge, u I
have to go home at once."
Delaney nodded to him, glanced darkly at me for an instant, and
we left. I walked beside Mr. Carr's horse as far as this house, and
when we parted he grasped my hand with great fervor.
" You have awakened me, my young friend, to a sense of duty to
myself and my son." Here he held up his right hand and contin-
ued solemnly : " I swear, before God, that I will never gamble
again." After a little pause he went on. " I have also decided
finally about the Lake Shore stock. Unless you lose by your kind-
ness in attending to this business for me, I shall never take the
stock. It is yours to sell or retain, as you please."
" My dear sir, you do not believe what I tell you. The stock
is worth ten or twelve thousand dollars."
" So much the better for you. I have thought over the matter,
and shall not change my determination. It is yours. Good night,
and God bless you."
He thinks he has settled the matter, but I also have decided. I
shall sell the stock, take out my five hundred dollars, and give the
balance to Charley.
We had a lively time in the drawing room. Lucille, who is a
darling little woman, played accompaniments for me. After play-
ing an hour she called Eet to take her place, and she and Carr
walked out on the verandah. I have a composition called "Echoes
from the Mountains," which is more of a duett than any of my
other pieces. Lucille refused to attempt it without preliminary
practice, and Bet asked for it at once. I set the piano part up
before her, and she played it without hesitation. She seemed to
catch the ideas of the composer, and we went through it delight-
fully. Herbert looked on with astonished eyes, as I went through
the gymnastical part of the performance, playing high up on the
finger board, and dealing largely in harmonics. The listeners made
us repeat the performance, and were loud in their applause. Eet
plays wonderfully. Oh, how sweet would have been my life if I
had been permitted to win her for my life's companion ! It was quite
late when Carr left, and Herbert brought me up here to "my room,"
as he calls it. " It is your room always, cousin Harry ; nobody
else shall ever sleep in it. Eet says so."
Since he left me the house has become quiet, and I have been
sitting here writing ever so long. It is time I was seeking "tired
nature's sweet w
HO HABWOOD.
CHAPTEE XXII.
THE CRISIS.
HARWOOD, SATURDAY NIGHT, August 7, 1836.
I WAS interrupted last night. There was a tap at my door,
and when I opened it there stood Eet and Herbert in the hall.
" Somebody is trying to get into my room, cousin," said Eet. I
knew you had not retired, as I saw your light and heard your pen
going." She spoke with perfect composure, while Herbert, who had
his gun, was full of excitement.
"Where is your room?" said I.
" Here across the hall. The window opens on the verandah
roof. Some one is on the roof cutting the shutter."
" Is there a light in your rooml"
"No."
" Cousin Harry," said Herbert in a whisper, "let me go down on
the lawn while you go to Eet's window. Maybe I'll get a pop at
him when he tries to get off."
I stepped softly into the room and listened. I heard the knife
cutting into the shutter in the thin part of the panel. Herbert
had gone down stairs. I had my sword cane but no firearms. I
put out my hand to open the shutter, when some one touched me.
It was Eet. /
" Do not incur any needless risk by your rashness, cousin," she
said with a tremulous voice. Before I could answer some one on
the lawn said, in a loud whisper,
"Come down! They are awake !" and I heard Herbert's gun
go off with a bang. I dashed the shutter open and caught a man
by the collar as he was retreating from the window. His face was
covered with black crape. He had a large knife in his hand,
which he dropped in the short struggle. In a moment I was
thrust back into the room and the robber gained the edge of the
roof. He seemed to hesitate about leaping down, and while he
paused I slipped througy the window, sword in hand. Before I
reached him he leaped, and I heard Herbert's second barrel. I took
the sword blade in my mouth, and feeling for the spout with my
hand, I let myself down from the roof, and was on the lawn in an
instant. But it was dark as a wolf's throat, and nothing was
visible. Presently I heard voices in subdued whispers at a little
THE CRISIS. HI
distance, and calling out to Herbert to follow, I ran toward the
sound. There was a momentary shuffling of feet, and then I heard
the hoof strokes of horses as the marauders galloped off. Ret
and Herbert were on the verandah when I went back.
" Are you hurt ?" said the former, anxiously.
" Not a bit 5 but the rascals are off. What did you shoot at,
Herbert V J
" At a man on the lawn. I heard him whispering, though I
could not see him. I hit him though, for I heard him swear when
I fired."
" And your second shot ?"
" Was at a fellow who tumbled off the roof. I missed him, I
know."
" Well, we may all sleep in safety now. They will not be back
to-night," said I, as we reentered the house. " Cousin Eet, where
will you sleep P
" In my own room," she replied.
" If you would feel safer, Herbert and I will sit up and play
chess all night."
" No, you shall not ; I am not afraid. You may come and see
how much damage is done to my shutter."
There was not much harm done ; the fellow had marked out a
square place in the panel just over the bolt, and had chipped
away a little of the wood. If he had succeeded in getting the
piece out, he could have put his fingers in through the hole, and
drawn the bolt back. As we refastened the shutter I saw her
black key box on the table near the window.
" Ah, here was the attraction !" I said. " Do you keep-t^ie box
here usually ?"
" Always."
" Good night then, Cousin Eet 5 do not hesitate to call me if
you are alarmed again ; but you will not be disturbed again to-
night."
" My debt to you is getting larger," she said, as I left the room.
" Pshaw ! Go to sleep and forget it, then f and so I left her.
Herbert declared he would stay ; but she sent him out after me.
He reloaded his., gun, and slipping back into bed, vowed he would
" keep awake any how." I told him I would read awhile then, and
in a few minutes he was sound asleep. I put out his candle and
came back here to " my " room.
We agreed this morning that we would say nothing about the
172 HARWOOD.
night alarm, Lucille had not been awakened, and the servants
did not appear to have heard the shots. Eet sent Herbert to see
if Mr. Becket was on the plantation ; but he came back with the
information that he had ridden to town the evening before and
had not returned. He is to leave on Monday. He says he is
going to Florida to take charge of a plantation there. I asked
Eet this morning, as she and I promenaded the verandah before
breakfast, if Becket could possibly know where she kept her keys.
She said he doubtless did, as she had sent Phany or Chloe for the
box several times when he was at the house. He also knew that
the box contained the key of the iron closet, as he had seen her
open it recently, when she was settling his account.
" I have concluded," said I, still reasoning female fashion, " that
the robbers last night were Becket and Denham. I saw them
together in the gambling room at the hotel."
" Are you in the habit of spending your leisure tune in that
intellectual amusement P
" I ? I never gamble, Cousin."
" What were you doing in the room last night ?"
" I went there after Mr. a gentleman I wished to see."
" Was it Uncle ? I won't insist upon an answer," she said, as
I was silent ; " but I am sure it was he."
" It was ; but he will go there no more. He solemnly promised,
when he left me last night here at your gate that he would
never gamble again."
" Tell me all about it every word !" and she stamped her foot
impatiently.
u Come sit down here then, you tyrant. I pity your fdture hus-
band." She looked at me with an indescribable expression, and
I told her all about it.
" Please don't say anything to Charley. I would not have told
you, or any one else, if I could help it. I ought not to tell you, as
it is none of my business."
" What are you going to do with your stock T she asked. " I
won't tell anybody anything you tell me."
" I have no stock. If you mean this Lake Shore mine, I am
going to send it to the broker to sell, and I am going to give the
proceeds to Charley."
" Let us go in to breakfast," she said, rising.
We played " Echoes " once or twice afterwards, and then I took
my cane and walked down to the Laurels.
THE CRISIS. 173
I crossed the creek dry shod, at a narrow place half a mile
above the ford, where there was a large tree fallen across the
water. I then walked down the Manahio road to the haunted
grove. It was about nine o'clock, and the morning was lovely. I
had walked briskly, and had got pretty warm ; so I took off my
gloves, coat and vest. When I reached the Laurels, and pushed
my way through the bushes, I saw a man in his shirt sleeves, with
a spade in his hand, kneeling over the spot I had selected as the
probable locality of the lead-covered box. He had a tape measure in
his hand, and was ascertaining the distance from that spot to the
near tree. It was Captain Delaney.
" What the devil are you sneaking about here for, sir P he said
fiercely, starting to his feet. " Begone while your skin is whole !"
This temperate and soothing salutation had the natural effect
upon me. I kept down my rising passion, but I felt in every bone
of my body that the hour had come for my struggle with that
rascal.
" You forget yourself very strangely, sir!" replied I, haughtily.
" As I have not the honour of your acquaintance, I should like to
know by what right you address me at all."
"It is just possible," he said, after looking steadily into my
eyes, and finding that I returned his stare without flinching " it
is barely possible that you may have brains enough to take your
slim body away from this neighbourhood before I knock them out
of your head."
"And it is also barely possible that you may find out that I am
not to be scared by the mouthing of so poor a bully as you are.
There is nothing very terrific to me about Captain Delaney or Mr.
Mark Denham."
He stooped down and picked up the spade, and then took a step
toward me. I dropped my coat and vest, and drew the sword
from my cane.
" So !" he said, pausing, " you would prefer a hole in your lank
body, instead of a crack on the crown ? I give you one more
chance, if only because you have had pluck enough to brave me
thus far. Will you apologise for your insolence and go, and be
d d to you r
" It does not require any particular amount of pluck to brave a
gentleman of your calibre, Mr. Denham. I have no apologies to
make, and I am not going away until I get a certain lead-covered
box for which you are searching."
174 HARWOOD.
He threw the spade into the bushes, gathered up the tape-line,
and took his cane, which was leaning against the tree. It was
precisely like my own. He drew the blade out and threw the
scabbard down at the foot of the tree, with the tape-line. He
then saluted gracefully, and, advancing a step, crossed his blade
with mine. While we fenced, he talked :
" It is almost a pity to put so promising a youth out of his mis-
ery," he said ; " but your knowledge is so extensive, that it is dan-
gerous to society for you to be at large any longer."
All this time he was trying my skill, changing his parades with
great celerity, and keeping me tolerably busy in parrying his
thrusts. Captain Joli's " principles " stood me in stead rarely
to-day.
" I thought the same of you last night, sir, when I spoiled your
little adventure at Harwood f he winced a little, but kept on fight-
ing; " and I intend to see that you are not allowed to cheat poor
old men out of their inheritance, or to rob defenceless women,
hereafter. Your role in this locality is about over, sir." I was
trying to get him into a passion, but he was cool as ice.
" You might have got off with the loss of your ears," he replied,
" if you had not made that last remark. I am surprised to find
that you should be bold enough to aim so high in your regards as
to the lovely Miss Harwood. Her estimate of you is probably
much lower than you suppose."
" I also had the pleasure of making your journey to Baltimore
of no avail ; as I revealed the secret of your identity with the
charming Captain Delaney, and also with the correspondent of
your friends, who took leave of society about this locality five years
ago." He sprang back a step or two, and stood gazing at me with
an astonishment which he did not try to conceal. I watched him
narrowly, expecting him to dart suddenly upon me. " I am not
fighting a duel with you, Mr. Denhani. If you will go quietly
away, and leave Carrville never to return, I will not interfere with
you. I know you to be a great scoundrel, and I can satisfy any-
body that knows you, that you are not entitled to the name of
gentleman ; but if you will go, I will be silent on the subject, and
leave you in the hands of God."
" Who the devil are you?" he said at length.
< No matter. I am a gentleman, and I will keep my word.
Will you go F
" Not until I kill you. No man ever braved me thus and lived !
THE CRISIS. 115
You will be dead in five minutes P and lie advanced again to the
centre of the area and assaulted me.
As I look back upon that final encounter I remember that I
thought the man's muscles must be made of steel. He evidently
meant to kill me, and I was beginning to think I would have to
kill him to save my -own life. I had depended upon cowing him
by the revelations I made, but I had calculated upon encounter-
ing a man of different metal. I could feel the vigour of his strong
arm at the very point of his weapon, and once or twice his sword
glanced past my throat almost grazing it. He did not strike at
my body at all. The advantage with me was solely in that I was
defending myself not attacking him. But I soon found that he
calculated upon this forbearance and pressed me more fiercely.
He had not touched me, when I took advantage of an opening,
and slipped my blade into the fleshy part of his arm, just above
the elbow. I saw the shirt sleeve become crimson in a moment,
but he only ground his teeth and fought with a little more caution.
I was cooler than I am now while I write about it. Neither of us
uttered a word, and there was no sound except the stamp of our
feet as we traversed the little area, and the continued rasping of
steel against steel. I think we fought full fifteen minutes in this
way. At last he struck at my breast with a fierce lunge en tierce,
and, as he recovered, I thrust my sword through his wrist. I saw
the point as it came out through his arm, and he dropped his
weapon as I withdrew my own. In another moment he was upon
me my sword again passing through his shoulder and gripping
my throat with his left hand, he bore me to the ground, and
knelt upon my body. I was virtually disarmed, as my blade was
still in his shoulder, and I saw him feeling in his bosom for the
knife, which he at last drew out with his wounded hand. I men-
tally offered a brief prayer for I thought my hour had come
when I heard the crack of a rifle, and my enemy rolled over on
the grass.
I thought he was dead, as I sat there beside his body, trying
to get back the breath he had nearly choked out of mine, but a
convulsive twitching of his limbs showed me that ho still
lived. I then kneeled over him, and saw that the bullet had en-
tered hio right breast. There was not much blood issuing from
the wound, though his right sleeve was red from the shoulder to
the wrist. While I stood irresolute, trying to decide what ought to
be done, I heard a horse splashing through the water at the
176 HARWOOD.
ford. I ran out of the grove and met Doctor Markham as he
rode np the bank.
" Oh, doctor ! God must have sent you here P I exclaimed.
" Come quickly ! there is a man dying here in the grove !"
" The deuce !" answered the doctor, u and what may be the
nature of his disease, Burton F
" Oh, come, doctor ! he will bleed to death !"
" Bleed !" and the doctor dismounted and followed me " why
didn't you say he was hurt ? Hitch my horse, please. Why it's
Delaney, by all the gods !"
" Yes, sir, and I am afraid he is killed." The doctor opened
his shirt bosom and looked at the wound ; then he told me to get
his saddle bags. When I got them he opened one end and took
out a case of cruel looking instruments, and, selecting a probe, he
passed it carefully into the wound. Delaney groaned.
" I am afraid you won't groan very long," said the doctor, rising.
" Burton, we must get him to some house. It is too far to town.
I wonder if we might take him to Harwood V 9
" Is it too far to Maltby's ?"
" Yes," answered the doctor, decidedly. " His only chance is
to get him to some place with as little motion as possible. Jump
on my horse and ride over to Harwood, and ask Eet if I may take
him there ; and if yes, bring four niggers back with you, with a
door and a pillow."
"A door F
" Yes 5 take some door off its hinges to carry him on. Have
you lost what little sense you used to have? Be off I"
I picked up my sword, wiped the blade on the grass, and re-
placed it in the scabbard, and unfastening the doctor's horse, I
galloped back to Harwood. When I arrived I rode up to the
verandah and called Herbert out of the parlor.
" Send your sister here, dear Herbert. I want to see her alone,
just a moment." She heard me, and came out as her brother re-
tired, his eyes dilated somewhat beyond their usual dimensions.
" What has happened?" she said, pale and tremulous ; " there
is blood on your hands and face !"
" It is Denham's. I am afraid he is dying, or dead ! Some one
shot him near The Laurels, and Doctor Markham has sent me to
tell you that his life depends upon prompt treatment, which can
be given no place but here. He will die, Markham says, if we at-
tempt to carry him to town or to Maltby's."
TEE CRISIS. 177
" What shall I say I Bo you decide the question/' she an-
swered.
" He will die, anyhow, I believe. He is shot in the breast."
" Did you do it ?" she asked, coming a step nearer and speak-
ing in a lower tone.
" No, thank God ! Yet he would have killed me in another
minute. I was in his power, and his knife was almost at my
throat. I will tell you hereafter. Herbert! Captain Delaney has
been severely wounded down on the creek, and Dr. Markham
thinks he had better be brought here. What do you say P
" By all means hey, Ret $ You know uncle is his friend. We
can put him in the spare room on tMs floor."
" Go back, then, cousin," said she " take some men with you.
Herbert, brother, go attend to it. I will have the room prepared."
Herbert got his horse, and we were soon on our way back to
The Laurels with four stout negroes, who bore a stable door and
a pillow. When we arrived we found Denham was conscious.
The doctor had bound up the wounds on his arm, and was giving
him water from the creek. He was placed carefully on the door,
the pillow under his head, and Herbert started with his negroes,
crossing the creek at the ford. I walked beside the doctor's
horse as we followed them.
" Are you going to tell me what your share of this business is F
asked the doctor. " What did your bloody sword mean, and who
has been making the holes in Delaney's arm, cutting two arteries,
and doing other mischief?"
"I believe I gave him all the wounds except the shot, doctor,"
replied I. " He first insulted me very grossly, and then assaulted
me. I met him by accident, and when he attacked me I was
obliged to defend myself. I stabbed him in the arm on purpose, as
I did not wish to kill him."
" If I had not arrived when I did he would have bled to death.
You severed two arteries, one of them a large one. Who shot
him ! w
" I don't know. He had me down and was about to cut my
throat when I heard the shot, and he tumbled over."
" What the deuce set you to quarrelling ? I thought you were a
peaceable young man. "
" So I am. I tell you he swore at me, and at last attacked me
with his sword. I was compelled to fight or run, and "
Well P
12
178 HARWOOD.
" I had never learned to run."
" I cannot imagine where the bullet came from," said the doctor,
after we had gone a half mile in silence. " It is out of reach
probably in the lung. The man will die, Burton, I think."
" The shot came from this side of the creek, doctor. ISo one
could have seen us from any other quarter. Besides, I remember
that I was lying with my head towards the stream, and he was
kneeling on my breast. My sword was sticking in his right
shoulder, and I could not draw it out, pinned as I was to the
ground. I tried to get it out, as I wished to put it through his
body, and I must have hurt him horribly in the effort."
" His shoulder is very much lacerated, and the artery is divided,
I think," answered the doctor. " I could not decide positively
without a more thorough examination. But the wound in the
wrist is a dangerous one also."
" I had to give him that to get his sword from him. He fought
like a devil, as he is. Why, sir, he did not make one thrust at
me, except the last, that was not addressed to my jugular. I have
been within half an inch of death twenty times this morning."
" You are not to blame, Burton," said Dr. Markharn, after
musing a little, u but here we are. The room is on the ground
floor you say F
CHAPTER XXIII.
BARNARD HARWOOD.
WE followed the negroes with their unconscious burden, and
they entered a room from the verandah. It is built in an
angle of the side wall of the house, and communicates with the
main building through a side passage which separates the library
from the breakfast room. The doctor directed the arrangement of
the door, so that he could operate on both sides of it, and dismiss-
ing the negroes, who very willingly vanished when Markliam
opened his surgical case, he asked Herbert if he would like to as-
sist him, while he looked for the ball. I know the boy is brave as
a lion, but with white lips he begged to be excused. The doctor
laughed and let him go.
"STow, Burton," he said, taking off his coat, and preparing
coolly for his work of butchery. " I know you are not afraid to
help me a little hey ?"
BARNARD HARWOOD. 179
" If you want me, doctor/' I answered u my stomach feels a
little weak, though what shall I have to do ?"
" Take this saw and saw one of his legs off," and he handed me
the murderous little instrument. " Come, don't be an ass now !
Keflect, that we are trying to save this man's life, and that lie will
not suffer much, as he is nearly unconscious. I shall only require
a few minutes. Take off your coat, and then cut his sleeve open
without moving his arm. I want to get his shirt off." I took
one of the knives from his case. " Not with that, you whelp!
You are a beautiful operator to ruin the edge of your knives by
cutting cloth with them ! Take your penknife."
While I was cutting away the shirt from Denham's arm and
breast the doctor went on talking. He seemed to enjoy the pros-
pect very much.
" I have been quite lucky to-day, Burton. I was called up at
two o'clock this morning to pick half a dozen buckshot out of
Becket's body. He was carrying his gun carelessly, like a fool as
he is, and it went off and sprinkled his legs beautifully. One shot
was within a hair's breadth of the femoral artery. He'll be laid
up for a month. By-the-bye, I promised to ask Herbert to send
his traps to him to the hotel. Please to remind me of it."
" Yes, sir. When did the accident happen to Becket f
" About one o'clock, I believe. Delaney came after me. They
were preparing to go on a pan hunt, as they call it. Have you
got the shirt off? Now, help me to turn him gently on his left
side."
Delaney groaned a little a we moved him.
"Now, Burton," said the doctor, "just hold him steady. I am
going to find the bullejc somewhere under the arm. You may shut
your eyes if you don't like to see a little cutting done 5 but hold
him still ! I shan't be long."
He felt along the back with his fingers, then taking a keen little
knife, he cut away as coolly as if he were whittling a stick. In a
minute he had the ball in his hand.
" I thought I felt it," he said. " So! that part is done. Now we
have to secure the brachial artery, and then we can put him- to
bed." He took the bandage off his shoulder, and in a few minutes
more he had tied the artery. My sword had cut it in two.
" I tied this round stone up in my handkerchief, and made a
sort of tourniquet out at the creek," observed the doctor. " He
would have been dead in a few minutes. I have been uneasy ever
150 HARWOOD.
since, fearing it would begin to spout again ; but he is safe enough
now. All we want is a stitch or two "
He revived a little as we laid him on the bed, and asked for
water. I handed him a drink, giving it to him with a spoon. I
began to feel as anxious to save him now as I had been to kill him
a little while ago.
" Where am I P he said.
" Xever mind," answered the doctor. " You are as well off as
you can be. Keep quiet and we'll try to get you well."
He closed his eyes again, then opened them suddenly and looked
at me earnestly and intently.
" Is that Allen ?" he asked. " I thought I killed him as well as
John !"
" Will you please to be quiet P said the doctor. " Nobody
wants to hear about your killing people, Captain Delauey."
" I'm not Captain Delaney ; I am Barnard Harwood," said the
wounded man.
" He's out of his head," said the doctor, feeling his pulse. " It
looks bad to find his mind wandering in this way."
a Don't be a fool, doctor," said Delaney, quietly. " I am not
out of my head. Let that youngster stay here with me and I'll
be quiet."
The doctor looked at me, and I nodded my head in acquiescence.
I understood everything now. Markham got some medicines from
his saddle bags and left me, directing me what to do if the patient
became restless.
" I am going to Manahio. Judge Carr is ill, the boy said. I
was on my way there when you met me at the ford. Delaney need
not die from his wounds, with careful nursing, but I think he will
die, notwithstanding. It looks unpromising for him to be talking
nonsense so early. He has no fever. I suppose he knew he was
at Harwood, and has got to wandering in his mind."
" I don't think he is wandering, doctor. His real name is Bar-
nard Harwood, no doubt."
All this was spoken in whispers on the verandah. Markham
stared at me, as though he suspected me of some slight tendency
to insanity.
" I'll tell you about it when I have opportunity, doctor. I think
you ought to know that he is in his senses. I arn perfectly certain
that his name is Barnard Harwood. There are some family secrets
that I have recently learned, and this is one of them."
BARNARD HARWOOD. 181
" Do you know what he meant by l killing John/ then ? And
do you know what he meant by calling you i Allen V" The doctor
thought this was what he calls " a stumper."
" Yes. My father's name was Allen, and I am said to resemble
him in his young days."
" And this man knew him f Oh, well, I'll ride over to Carres
now, and will return this way," and the doctor rode off.
When I went back into the room the wounded man had his
eyes open, regarding me intently. ,
"Come nearer," he said in a low tone. "You belong to my race,
young gentleman. You are Allen's son F
"I am. But don't talk now, cousin. I will tell you all you wish,
to know when you are better. I thought you were Mark Den-
ham. Try to go to sleep, and I will nurse you as carefully as I
can. I won't talk to you now," I added, as he tried to speak.
The doctor says you must be quiet I will not leave you without
your permission, and while you are weak and helpless you shall
have all the kindness I can show to my nearest kinsman."
" I don't want to die until I can tell you some things that you
ought to know," he murmured.
" You won't die, the doctor says, if you will only keep quiet and
calm," and I pressed his hand. " Shall I re.ul to you F
" Yes, Allen. Let me call you Allen. I know your name is
Herbert."
" Very well, cousin. Now, what shall I read ?"
" Anything you please," and he closed his eyes again.
There was only one book ia the room, and that was the best of
books. I read from the Psalms, then from the Gospels, conclud-
ing with the wonderful story of the Prodigal Son. He was breath-
ing quietly, and I thought he was asleep. I looked at the strong
man, lying there in pain and weakness, and all my hatred for his
person and character gave place to compassion and strong inter-
est. He is my kinsman, and he may live to amend his life !
I stole quietly from the room, and walking round to the front
verandah I found Eet and Herbert there. I put my arm through
Herbert's, and walked with him near enough to his sister for her
to hear our conversation.
" Herbert, my cousin, I am going to tell you a secret, which
you must keep a little while. My name is the same as yours."
" Are you my real cousin F said he, astounded.
le Yes, I am Herbert Harwood, the son of your father's own.
cousin Allen !"
182 HARWOOD.
" Does Ret know ? Oh, sister, ain't that jolly I But Fm not
going to love you any better, because I can't, you know."
" Your sister will tell you how my name was changed. I am
able to see now that it was a kind Providence that so ordered it.
Do you so regard it, cousin Eet ?"
" Yes, it is a case in which one is allowed to see that one's steps
are directed by a higher Power. Many things have occurred
which, perhaps, would not have happened if you had borne your
true name at first. It is not probable that we should have known
each other to-day.' 7
" I have undertaken to nurse this wounded man, and the doctor
says he may recover, if he is carefully watched."
" I have sent word to Mrs. Maltby that Captain Delaney is here,
ill," she answered, " and I think she will probably come here this
afternoon."
u He is not related to Mrs. Maltby "
" I know j but he has always been intimate with the Maltbys,
and he has no other friends in this parish. I thought I ought to
send her word."
" You were right, cousin." Herbert had gone into the house.
I fancy that he half expected Miss Lucy Maltby to drive over here
with her mamma, and he went to change his dress.
" It is Barnard Harwood, cousin," I said, when we were alone.
" He recognized me since the doctor extracted the ball. He calls
me Allen." She was looking at me with astonishment. " He has
done both of us much evil. I have forgiven him. Can you for-
give him also ?"
" I had forgiven him," she answered, " before you brought him
here this morning. I had my struggle. Perhaps I have more to
forgive than you think I have."
" What do you mean ? Did you hear anything "
" No. I won't tell you what I mean now. It is a mere suspicion.
I have read those letters over and over again, until the various
writers have become like people with wlioin I have daily inter-
course 5 and I havo unconsciously filled up the vacancies in the
story with motives and actions, which may, after all, be the mere
product of my own imagination. I think Barnard has been a
wicked man all his life, but, for some reason that I do not fully
comprehend, I have come to think that he is, perhaps, not so
much to blame as would appear from the letters."
(C Allen !" The voice came from. Barnard's room. I hastened
back to him. He was awake.
BARNARD HARWOOD. 183
" I thought you said you would not leave me," he said crossly.
" I have only been on the gallery. What will you have P
" Water. More, more !" he said, impatiently, as I gave him a
drink. " Can't you devise some better way than that ? I cannot
abide a spoon !"
" The doctor says I must not lift your head up. He will be back
presently."
" Will you tell me where I am ? The atmosphere of this house
stifles me !" I did not answer him. I thought Jie would be more
excited if he knew he was at Harwood. " How did you escape
me P he resumed. " I thought I cut your throat."
" Some one shot you just in time to save me."
" Ha ! do you know who shot me ? It is here in the breast. Is
the ball out P
" The ball is out. I don't know who shot you. Never mind
now. Til read to you again, shall I f
" Not at present. What did you read that old fable to me for ?
Do you think I am fool enough to believe in forgiving fathers or
in returning prodigals ! Fathers don't forgive, boy, nor do prodi-
gals return !"
" Yes they do, cousin. I know they do !" replied I, gently.
" That is, priests have told you so. You should not say < you
know.' One of Allen Har wood's most prominent weaknesses was
his strict adherence to the truth. When he said 1 1 know,' you
might safely swear to the truth of his assertion."
<fc You are not strong enough to argue now," I answered ; " when
you get better I will have it out with you. I hear the doctor's
voice."
The doctor came in, felt his pulse, glanced at the bandages, ex-
amined his eyes, and said he was " getting along."
" How long am I going to live, doctor!" asked Barnard, quietly.
"Who said you were going to die?" answered the doctor,
roughly.
" I say so 5 I am not a girl j you need not be afraid of alarming
me. I want to see Maltby."
" You are not going to see anybody for a few days, except one
person to nurse you. Maltby may do that if you will keep quiet.
" I am going to nurse him, doctor. Please stop at the post-
office and tell Mr. White."
" Wliy the devil can't you answer me," interrupted Barnard.
" You kao\Y I shall have fever presently, and will probably die. I
want to see Mr. Maltby half an hour while I keep my senses."
184 HARWOOD.
" He is coming," answered Markliam. " I passed his carriage
on the road. If you will not get excited you may see him a little
while."
"Can't you prop me up a little I I don't want to drink out of
that ctamned spoon any longer. You might put two or three pil-
lows under my shoulders and head."
" Very well ; wait till Maltby comes. Do you feel any pain in
your breast P
" Not a bit. I have no pain anywhere." He listened a moment
and then added, " I hear wheels. Maltby is coming. Go get some
paper and ink, Allen, arid do you and the doctor 'take yourselves
off when Maltby comes."
We got his head and shoulders a little elevated with Maltby's
assistance, and then left them together. Dr. Markhain and I
walked out on the lawn.
" He is going to die, Burton !" said the doctor. " I thought this
morning he might get over it. I wonder how old he is P
" Over fifty."
" He looks much younger. You might as well let him talk if
he wants to talk. It won't make much difference."
" Is it the rifle shot that kills him, doctor P I asked, anxiously.
" Certainly. The wounds in his arm are nothing. They would
get well in time. But his lung is torn to rags. He will die to-
night or to-morrow. There are two or three fatal symptoms about
him."
When we went into the house Ret said to me, " I have given
orders to have Midnight ready for you whenever you wish to ride.
Order her when you want her."
I thanked her with a look. Mrs. Maltby and Miss Latour were
discussing the propriety of the latter lady's taking the vacant seat
in her carriage and spending some days at Highlands. Lucille
wished to go, but was doubtful about the propriety of leaving
Miss Harwood. Ret settled the point by saying, in her decided
manner, that " Lucille could drive over to Harwood daily to see
her." The current impression seems to be that I found Delaney
wounded on the Baton Rouge road and got the doctor to bind up
his wounds, while I came here after the negroes to carry him. No
one but Ret and the doctor knows anything about iny fight. There
is no reason why I should tell any one else.
" Mr. Maltby says," remarked his wife, " that Delaney has had
a quarrel with somebody at the gambling roam in town, and that
BARNARD HARWOOD. 185
they had a fight when they met on the road. All the men carry
pistols, you know."
" I don't !" said Herbert, " and I never will, I think."
" Charley don't," said Eet.
" I don't, either," said I.
" Neither do I," said the doctor ; "if I get maltreated I have
no weapons but pills."
" If you carry those knives I saw on Captain Delauey's bed
just now," said Herbert, " I think you are pretty well armed.
They are a great deal worse than pistols. You've got a saw, too,"
ho added, with a shudder. " I saw it !"
" You saw the saw !" said the doctor, laughing.
" Yes, sir!" answered Herbert, " and I don't want to saw it any
more."
I went round to Barnard's room and found Maltby busy writ-
ing. I asked the sick man if I might ride to town and return in
an hour.
" No !" he answered, decidedly ; " to-morrow you can ride where
you please 5 I want you to-day."
" Can you sign, Delauey F asked Maltby ; " your hand is so
bundled up
"I've got two hands," rejoined Barnard, "and I can write
equally well with either. Let me see what you have written.
Tell the doctor to come in again before he goes, boy. In five
minutes."
In less time than he had specified Mr. Maltby came into the
drawing room and sent the doctor and me to the patient. Mark-
ham felt his wrist and looked grave.
" Pooh, doctor !" said Barnard, coolly, " I don't want you to give
me hope of recovery. You and I both know better. How long
shall I be able to talk 9 Give me a candid answer."
" From six to twelve hours," answered Markhani. " I wish I
could cure you."
" But you can't. Here, doctor," and he handed him a bank
note, " please attend to that poor devil, Becket, and tell him I
have paid his bill. It was my fault that he was hurt. Good-bye,
doctor ;" there was a momentary gleam of emotion on his smooth
face as he spoke 5 " you have been kind, and I thank you."
" Would you like to see any one ? I have a friend in
town Mr. Hamilton who will be too happy to come if you
wish "
186 HARWOOD.
" I thank you again, doctor, but my time is limited. . I don't
wish to see any one to-day, except my nurse here." The doctor
pressed his hand and went out of the sick room. " Go after him,
Allen 5 I shall sleep a little, I think. Keep within reach of my
voice."
An hour later they had all gone. Lucille went with Mrs. Malt-
by, after we had had luncheon in the breakfast room. Mrs. Malt-
by did not propose seeing the dying man after her arrival. There
was a gloom upon us all, and I think it was a relief to Miss Latour
and the Maltbys to get out of the neighbourhood. I was sitting
in the library conversing in a low tone with my cousins when
Barnard called me.
" Come, sit close to me," he said ; li I want to talk to you while
I can." His voice was slightly tremulous and his face haggard.
" Oh, cousin," and I knelt by his bedside and took his hand,
" let me talk to you about the dread realities upon which you are
entering !"
" Presently. Listen to me now. How much of my history do
you know P
" All of it up to the time of your marriage and departure for
America."
" I have but little to. tell you, then. My wife and I embarked
for Baltimore, but the vessel was driven out of her course by a
long storm, and put into Pensacola. We were the only passen-
gers. My Alice died in a few weeks after we landed, and she is
buried in the cemetery at Pensacola. Lay me beside her will
you F
" I will. Don't talk, if it distresses you."
" It does me good. Mark Denham and his sou found me at
Mobile five or six years ago. They were hunting your box which
contains the Lacy diamonds. Denham had some information and
I had more. Let me say here that my wife died in happy igno-
rance of everything but my idolatrous love for her. She thought
my uncle gave me the money I had, and although she gave me
much information about the lead covered box, she never suspected
me of any ulterior designs. My uncle and his wife were accus-
tomed to converse with perfect freedom in her presence, and it
was from their conversation that she learned that the box was
buried in a grove of three remarkable trees on the edge of John
Har wood's estate. My visit to Baltimore was to find out the ex-
act spot. If your father's papers revealed that, you baffled me,
BARNARD HARWOOD. 187
and I came back no wiser. It was then that Becket gave me the
exact locality, though he did not know it. He had opened a
drawer in this house and found a bundle of letters, and, stumb-
ling on the right one, he read and remembered a memorandum,
referring to the box."
" On the hypothenuse of the angle, nine feet from its junction
with the base," I said.
" Precisely. Go there to-morrow and get it. To resume : I did
not rely entirely upon Becket, and determined to see the papers
myself. It was only to get a bunch of keys and open a door. I
have done more difficult things. But you thwarted me again.
This morning I provided myself with the needful implements, and
would have found the box, but you interfered the third and last
time. You are a brave boy, Herbert ! I have never been met as
you met me to-day, except by your father and John Harwood.
You have the rash courage of one and the calm self-reliance of
the other.
" I must go back again now. Denham had got entangled in
some visionary conspiracy, and, in spite of my cautions, he was
caught and hanged he and his son "
" The Densons !" I said.
" Yes. He changed his name when he started on his insane
crusade. There is some legend current about his threatening to
haunt the grove. You will think I am unsettled in my intellect
when I tell you that I saw something Pshaw ! it was some infer-
nal delusion
" I was at The Laurels the other night, cousin, and the Indian,
Misty. We saw you and Becket."
" You relieve me very much. I believe I was frightened, though
the sensation was new to me. I have faced real dangers more
than once in my life and have ever borne me as became a man of
our race. But no matter. Go ask the girl if she will come now
and hear how her father died P
" I dare not !" I answered, shuddering.
" Eepeat what I have said. If she shows the slightest sign of
repugnance I shall not press it. But I have watched her in vain
for three or four years if she does not come."
I found her alone in the library. When I delivered my message
she rose at once, pale and calm, and followed me. I resumed my
old position, kneeling by the side of his bed, and she stood near
his pillow.
188 HARWOOD.
" Have you divined that I killed your father P he said, looking
into her calm and pitying eyes. She bowed her head without
speaking.
" Hear how it was done, I am not a murderer. I think John
suspected me from our first interview or perhaps he had a hint
from the Scotchman yonder Gowrie who knew me. He was
cold and distant always when we met. Twenty years had changed
us both in appearance, and he had not seen me since I was a
mere boy. I had ridden from Baton Eouge one night, late, and
was going to Maltby's. I went out of my way to look at those
Laurels, and to see if they were haunted by anything worse than
myself. There had been some foolish stories afloat I think Carr
was the author and something had been seen there I never
could learn what but everybody avoided the road after nightfall.
I rode in among those trees and met John there. He had doubt-
less come on the same errand. In my surprise I called him by
name, * John T and he answered, * Barnard !' I cannot remember
all that passed. We had always quarrelled when we were young,
and now he struck the last blow by referring to my dead wife as
the partner in my infamy. I answered so as to exasperate him
more and more, and when he was nearly beside himself with rage,
I suddenly drew my pistol, and said, l You are armed, so am I.
Count ten aloud and fire P Our pistols exploded together. The
scar from his bullet is still on my neck. As he fell from his horse
he said, l God protect my children !' and all was over. Now girl,
curse me before I die P
61 May God forgive you, cousin, as freely as I forgive you," she
answered, as she knelt by me.
" So P he paused a moment, then went on " I rode directly
back to Baton Eouge. I have heard John's dying words every
night since that night ; and I think if I had had a human heart
I might have been softened a little. I did set myself to get from
Carr the mortgage he holds on the Harwood estate, and I would
have cheated him to gain it. I thought if I could burn that mort-
gage I should hear those words no more! If I had won it I
should have given back to Carr all my other winnings from him.
I tried to buy it from him, but he would never sell; and to-day I
have directed Maltby to pay it and to pay Carr everything else
he has lost to me. I never cheated, and I was probably clumsy
in my first attempt. He quit playing before I accomplished my
design. And, children, I did not try to kill John. Even while he
BARNARD HARWOOD. 189
was counting, I changed my mind, and when he called out 4 TEN !'
my hand acted without my will. God knows if there is a God
that I am innocent of the intention !"
A change, rapid and appalling, was stealing over his features.
" Oh, cousin," I said, eagerly, " do not doubt that there is a God
infinite, eternal and unchangeable in mercy. Oh, if you could
feel as the poor sinner felt, of whom I read to you to-day the
man who went to the temple to pray "
"Is that you, my Alice P he said, looking at Bet, "with sad
and tearful eyes! Look, love, at this beautiful land! We will
live here in peace, and I will try to find the religion you speak of.
If it is made for sinners, surely I can meet the conditions ! And
you, Allen ! fie, fie ! what have men of our name to do with tears !
Are you weeping for me, boy ? The Indian shot me ! I saw him !
It was just, for I shot him long ago. I was sorry when it was too
late. Let him go free !" He closed his eyes a few minutes, and
when he looked at me again the terrible expression had passed
from his face, and he looked more like himself. " Say it again,
boy," he murmured, and the sweet voice of Eet answered :
"It is a faithful saying, and worthy of all acceptation, that
Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners, of whom I am
chief!"
"It is Alice! No, it is my young cousin. Your tears are a
comfort to me, children ! What did you read, Herbert ? < He saw
him afar off!' God be merciful to me THE sinner!"
He was dead !
Mr. Maltby came this afternoon, and has undertaken every-
thing. I am going to start for Peusacola with the body to-mor-
row. Since I have been here in my room writing the shadows
have grown longer, and now the sun has gone. I have been the
more sorrowful because I wounded him to-day though my reason
tells me that I could not do otherwise. But when I think of his
arm, and the bandages upon it, my heart sinks and my eyes over-
flow. I could bear all the rest ! I have avoided the society of
every one. Herbert was here an hour ago with a message from
her. I sent him away, saying I would see her to-morrow. It has
occupied me, and perhaps comforted me, to write all the after-
noon. And now the sad story is all told.
190 HAEWOOD.
CHAPTER XXIY.
A YEAR LATER.
HARWOOD, Sunday, Augwt 8, 1836.
I IN" an hour I am to begin my journey to Pensacola. All will be
prepared, and I have only to hail the first boat for New Orleans,
and get the coffin on board. Maltby has given me a well filled
pocketbook, acting, as he says, under Barnard's instructions. I
hope to be back in two or three weeks. Charley was here for a
few minutes this morning; he did not dismount. His lather is
ill, and he hastened back to him. I have hardly exchanged
words with my cousins to-day. They are going to Carrville, and
there are other carriages gathering about the grounds to swell the
funeral procession. I cannot get up the least excitement, in view
of the trip to Florida, but am longing for the melancholy duty to
be finished. Mr. Hamilton is here, and there will be religious
services in the house. It is nearly time to begin them, and I must
go down stairs. I leave my portfolio here until I return.
HARWOOD, Monday, August 30, 1836.
Since I got back from Florida I have been occupied with vari-
ous matters, and this is the first night I have had access to my
diary. To-morrow I once more start for my home, and probably
shall go to Europe before I return to Carrville if I ever return.
I found a letter from Mr. Callahan here, on my arrival from Pen-
sacola, in which he invited me to join him at once in New York.
And I received a second letter to-day enclosing a note from Mr.
Alfred Parchment of London, recommending me to go to that city
without delay. There has been so great a change in my circum-
stances since I wrote the last record here that my whole life
seems to be beginning anew. I will try to recount events in
order.
In the cemetery at Pensacola I found Barnard's vault without
difficulty. There was a single word carved on the marble front
" Alice." I caused his name " Barnard " to be added and saw
his body placed beside his wife's. One day was afterwards occu-
pied in attending to some instructions of Maltby's regarding the
sale of Barnard's property in the beautiful little city. It was at
last given into the hands of Captain Delaney's lawyer who has
A YEAR LATER. 191
since remitted the proceeds to Maltby. He has paid the mortgage
on Harwood, and has also paid Judge Carres estate (the Judge
died during my absence) a large sum of money, which my cousin
said he owed Judge Carr. Herbert has received for himself and
his sister fifty thousand dollars in stocks, bonds, and money and
I have inherited the remainder of Barnard's estate. Already
Maltby has paid me one hundred thousand dollars in money, and
he says there is valuable property still unsold in New Orleans and
Mobile. Barnard's instructions were full and explicit, and, with
the exceptions I have mentioned, all of my poor cousin's wealth is
left to "his beloved cousin, Herbert Harwood, son of Allen Har-
wood, formerly of Harwood House, Essex." There has been no
dispute about the will. Maltby is a lawyer, and has observed all
requisite forms, and no one has appeared to contest it.
Three weeks ago to-day that is, the day after I left here
Eet and Herbert drove down to The Laurels and dug up the box.
It is now in the iron closet, and we are going to open it to-night.
Barnard directed Maltby to give me his pocketbook after his
death, and I found a memorandum in it which I will copy here
and then destroy. It is as follows :
"FACTS ABOUT THE .
"Sir H. had determined to purchase for A. the plantation ad-
joining J. It is undoubtedly the one now owned by C., and sepa-
rated from the other by the stream. A. declined, reason not
known, ^ir H. had brought the to this country to surprise
A. with the gift, when he took possession of his plantation. There
was some danger of robbery, as Sir H. had incautiously revealed
the value of the to one or two suspicious characters. He
therefore decided to bury it, instead of taking it back by way of
the city. It is in a grove of remarkable trees. All these are facts,
and no other facts are known."
Herbert says they took none of the servants with them, because
they did not wish it known that anything so valuable was in the
house. Herbert found the spade in the bushes, and the box was
near the surface. When they reached the house, on their return,
he carried it unobserved into the drawing room, and locked it in
the closet. We three know its history, and no one besides.
I met in New Orleans an old acquaintance from Baltimore, who
was in search of employment. He and Mr. Bayard are now in
Oarrville, unpacking the goods which have arrived. I have been
192 HARWOOD.
aiding them for several days, though I have no longer any busi-
ness connection with the establishment. The people received the
intelligence of my good fortune and of my changed name with a
great deal of interest. The belief is current that my name, Har-
wood, has been assumed under instructions in the will. My inti-
mates know the truth, but they do not talk much about it, I
suppose. Mr. Hamilton, who has been always kind and friendly,
is more kind than ever. He has always some new question to
ask me about my Mother and sisters. I think he listens most
intently when I talk of Alice.
I must go down now and open the box. Oh, shall I ever spend
another night at this house 1 I forgot to say that Carr's marriage
is postponed on account of his father's death. He was here to-
day, but went home shortly after dark. He looks melancholy,
poor fellow. He and Eet had a long talk on the verandah, while
I beat Herbert two games of chess. Miss Latour has gone home.
Not one word has been spoken about the marriage by any of us.
Mr. Hamilton told me of the postponement.
MIDNIGHT.
We have opened the box and examined the contents. The cer-
tificate of the Wheal Pentland stock is now in my pocketbook. It
is transferable only on the books of the corporation, by Allen Har-
wood, gentleman, his heirs, administrators, executors or assigns.
The probable amount of money it may represent does not appear
so enormous to me now as it did a month ago. The coins, about
two hundred, are mostly gold and silver, and uone of us have ever
seen any like them. There is a sort of pedigree of several of
them fully fifty, I suppose in a little manuscript volume we
found in the box. I hardly know what to say about the diamonds.
There are several other brilliant jewels, emeralds, rubies, and
amethysts, but the diamonds are in a separate box, and the name
" Lacy " is on the cover, both inside and out. There are finger
rings, earrings and bracelets, and one brooch and one necklace. It
is the last mentioned that is the most magnificent. I have not the
slightest idea of the value of these jewels, and Eet, who is a better
judge, said her estimate would sound fabulous, and that she would
not name it. There is an inventory of jewels and coins, but no
value set down. Most of the coins are marked " unique " on the
schedule. By-the-bye, the inventory professes to be a " list of the
Lacy coins f and then a " list of the Lacy minor jewels," and
A TEAE LATER. 193
finally, a " list of the Lacy diamonds." As we sat there, looking
at the blazing gems, I thought how poor and contemptible they
were in comparison with one kind glance from her calm eyes. I
am glad that I am going away. I cannot endure her presence any
longer. When she looks at me I feel my heart bound, and the
blood rushing to my face. She seems to know all that I think ;
and once or twice to-night I caught her looking composedly at
me, while I was allowing my foolish imagination to picture a
future, in which she reigned queen of my life; and each time
the conviction flashed upon me that she knew my thoughts.
Who were the Lacys, I wonder?
On the night that Barnard died the Indian was here. He left
the panther skin with Herbert, who saw him, saying it belonged
to "young chief Hubbard." Since that night he has never been
seen. His wigwam is empty, and the Indian has gone some-
where. Mr. Maltby says he is a Seminole, and no doubt has re-
turned to Florida, to join the tribes now in arms against the whites.
If I could feel that it was an entirely just warfare waged against
these savages, I think I should volunteer ; but there may be some
fighting to be done in Texas, and I have a longing for the wild,
rough life of a frontier soldier, and very little shrinking from the
possible fate of such a warrior. If it were not for Mother and my
sisters, I might
But I will not indulge these thoughts. I am going to walk into
town early. They made different arrangements down stairs 5 but
I will have no leave-taking. I have written on a card "good-bye,
dear cousins j" and I shall leave it on my portfolio, in which 1
once more lock up this melancholy diary. When shall I open it
again?
HARWOOD, MONDAY, August 31, 1837.
A whole year ago! I have returned in the nick of time. Char-
ley is to be married to-morrow ! I thought it would have been all
over, or I should have delayed my arrival.
I have brought back with me a pair of magnificent whiskers.
They were in embryo when I left America last September 5 they
have matured in Italy, and Greece, and Egypt. Many days have
I lingered in many a famous capital. I also imported an entirely
new manner. I have acquired from observation and long prac-
tice that charming air of indifference, and indolence, and superi-
ority which distinguishes travelled men. Alas ! I have not had
13
194 HAEWOOD.
the opportunity to display this last acquirement. Old memories
haunt me in this locality ; and if I were boy enough to turn back
a leaf or two I should lose my manhood, as I recalled the events
I last recorded. Allons!
When I reached Baltimore, a year ago, I learned that Mr. Cal-
lahan had been there to see my Mother; and he had taken cer-
tain depositions from her and others j got various certificates from
the British Consul ; and left a message for me, instructing me to
get my Mother's marriage certificate, and a certified copy of the
registers of my birth and the birth of Alice and Grace, and to
present myself with these documents at his office in New York as
soon as possible. I complied with all these instructions, and two
days after my arrival in New York I sailed for Liverpool. I
might say a great deal about the voyage the people I met on
shipboard and in England but I don't feel in the mood to-night.
Hereafter, I may think it worth my while to recount some of my
adventures. I went to London; found Mr. Alfred Parchment,
and was escorted by that gentleman to Lavington, Lord Morton's
residence in Devonshire. Here I found my only surviving Eng-
lish kinsmen, namely, Lord Morton, and Sir Allen Harwood, my
father's first cousin. His brother, Sir Charles, had died before he
attained his majority. These gentlemen received me with cordial
kindness, and my entire European life was spent in their society.
It was at the instance of Allen, my beloved cousin, that Mr. Parch-
ment had written for me. In a day we were " Allen " and " Her-
bert," and while he lived, the intercourse between us two was
peculiarly close and intimate. I told him all my dearest secrets ;
and I believe he opened his whole heart freely to me. His health
was then very much impaired, and his physicians had ordered
him to the south of France for the winter. Lord Morton was to
accompany him, and it required very little persuasion to induce me
to join their party. Before we left England the formal transfer of
the Wheal Pentland stock was made to me, and as Lord Morton
vehemently opposed the sale of it, I still own it, I intend to pay
my Mother and sisters their proportion of its value, according
to their inheritance under American law ; or I will transfer their
proportion of the stock itself, whichever they may prefer. I had
no trouble whatever in the business. Mr. Parchment had charge
of Lord Morton's legal business, as well as Sir Allen's ; and as
Mr. Callahan had obtained all the certificates that were requisite,
under Mr. Parchment's instructions, the matter was speedily set-
tled.
A YEAE LATER. 195
On the banks of the beautiful Garonne, Lord Morton found a
chateau, occupied only by an old housekeeper, and we spent the
winter there. Allen talked to me about his boyish days $ his col-
lege life ; his early friends ; his sickly brother, who was so kind
and loving always; and, finally, one glorious night, when the
moon was bright in a cloudless sky, he told me about his love
Mary Lacy. "You seem like a dear brother, Herbert," he said,
" and I am telling you what no mortal has heard before." During
his school-days, he spent his vacations at Lavington, with his guar-
dian, and he met her there while they were mere children. Then
in later years he encountered her in London society, when she was
in her first season. Then he learned that she was going to marry
his friend and her brother's friend, and the rest of his short life
was spent in rooting out the affection that had brightened that
life from his boyhood. He told me his story like a man, and
spoke hopefully of a time to come when he might love her with-
out sin. She was a happy wife now, and never knew the throne
she occupied in his heart. Then I told him of Bet, and the brave
gentleman, who had laid bare his wounds to me with calm cour-
age, was overcome by the recital of my sorrows. " It is a luxury
to sympathize with you, Herbert, because you are healthy and
strong, and will have to endure through life what I shall soon
escape. You don't know how thankful I felt when the doctor said
the climate here might do me good, as I understood him to mean
that he had no such expectation."
We went to Italy in the early spring ; then to the Nile, and
spent the summer or the most of it in Greece. He came home
a month ago, to die. " Che sard, sard."
I wrote to Mother from Paris, saying that I would go home by
way of New Orleans. I wanted to look once more into those dark
eyes, so calm and quiet 5 but Jhave seen them, flashing with girl-
ish merriment ; I have seen them, kindle at the recital of some
heroic deed, and I have seen them sparkling in teardrops. And,
now, that I have seen her, I am disappointed. She is not sad any
longer ; she is not gay, but she is quietly happy brimfull, run-
ning over with happiness. Oh, Ret ! what a dog I would be if I
could wish you otherwise !
When I landed this morning, I got a horse and rode out here,
like a crazy man. I had only time to remember that I must be on
my good behaviour, when I walked into the house. I saw a white
dress, then the wearer of it rushed upon me, with an embrace and
196 EAEWOOD.
a little hysterical scream, half laugh and half sob. It was Grace !
then Alice, and then my Mother ! JSc/ordinary man could main-
tain his gravity under such circumstances. My good behaviour
was forgotten in my bewilderment, while half a dozen were kissing
me and pulling me to pieces among them. Herbert's salutation
was characteristic. First he hugged me, then he stood off a yard
surveying me, and then the scoundrel said
" Oh, golly ! just look at his whiskers, Eet ! Ain't they prime ?"
He is a very trying young man to encounter, when one is endeav-
ouring to maintain one's self-possession. I gave up at once, and
behaved naturally all the evening.
Eet looks so superlatively happy. She and Lucille have had an
overwhelming quantity of private business to transact. I have
seen her only by snatches all day. Mother and the girls are also
in full feather. They seem to have some terrible secret among
them, which they are keeping from me. They are here, in answer
to an invitation from Eet, which Mother says "she could not
withstand." I wrote to Herbert two or three months ago, telling
him that I would come to Louisiana first, and Eet wrote upon that
text. Mother received my letter, announcing th^ same intention,
a day or two after Eet's invitation reached her, and she answered
the letter in person. I evaded her twice to-day, when she had
nearly cornered me for a talk ; but she followed me into my room
to-night, and putting her arms round my neck, she whispered
Do you still love Eet, Herbert f '
"Yes, Mother." 1LJI
" She is a lovely woman, my son!" I did not answer, and she
handed me a box, marked " Lacy." " Here are your diamonds,
Herbert."
" They are yours, Mother. I never dreamed "
" Well, I give them to you. They are yours now."
" I can't wear necklaces and bracelets, Mother, and you surely
don't want me to sell them ?" ,
" Do what you like with them, Herbert. Good night, my dear
.boy," and so she left me.
I thought I would give them to Alice and Grace, but I have
changed my mind. Wait until to-morrow.
TUESDAY, September 1, 1837.
How much gratitude is due to God for creating so beautiful a
world ! I have been blind hitherto ! I have looked with tran-
A YEAR LATER. 197
sient admiration upon lovely scenes in both hemispheres, but
never until to-day have I seen the marvellous beauty of the earth.
I have just come in from a ramble in the woods, all the way to
The Laurels, and have brought back with me a handful of wild
flowers, mostly inodorous, but surpassingly lovely. I must ar-
range them presently and take them to .
I had come to a definite conclusion about the diamonds this
morning, and, after breakfast, I went into the library with them,
to wait for an opportunity. I read a book read like a man stuff-
ing for an examination but I don't know what book it was. At
last I saw her passing through the little hall, and I called her.
"Bet, cousin, please come here a moment."
" Please don't keep me long," she answered, as she came in. " I
have so many things to do."
" I know you have. Here, sit down. I want to ask a great
favour of you," and I shut the door. She looked surprised,
blushed, and then grew pale as J produced the jewel case.
" I want you to accept these and to wear them to-day."
" I won't !" she answered, and she moved towards the door. I
slipped round the table, and backed up against the door.
"You don't get out, madam, until you explain yourself," I said,
decidedly. " Pray why won't you take the diamonds ?"
" They belong to cousin Alice. What right have you to dispose
of her property ?"
" She gave them to me last night. Eind some other reason."
" It would be indecorous to receive a present of such value."
"Oh, Ret, I am going away soon. I am going back to England,
and I want to leave these with you. Don't talk about values. I
do not consider them worth one kind look from you."
"When are you going?" and again the blood was in her cheeks
and forehead. /
" Soon. To-morrow, maybe. Will you take thrfm ?" and I held
the box out to her. " I want you to wear them to-day "
" I cannot. It would be highly indecorous. It would be insult-
ing to Lucille ! I'm ashamed of you !" and her eyes were spark-
ling and her face burning.
" Will you please explain why f I a^ked, in wonder.
" Yes, if you will let me out^soe answered, desperately. I
moved away from the door, and she said with great composure :
" Because the bridesmaid should not wear diamonds when the
bride has none to wear. It would be in horrid taste, to say the
least,"
198 HARWOOD.
"The bridesmaid! Oh, Bet! go now if you dare! Do you
mean to tell me it is Lucille who will be married to-day ?"
" Yes, I believe she has some such intention."
" And you knew that I thought Come back here!" and I
stamped my foot violently. "I swear that I will set the house on
fire if you leave me !"
She came back trembling, half laughing and half crying.
" Cousin Alice told me the other day that you had fallen into a
mistake. You never asked me. How could I know f I had her
in my arms then, and her face was hidden on my breast.
" What must I say to you, Eet, my beloved ? You know all I
wish to say. It will take a lifetime to tell you how I love you."
" I know. You need not say anything. You have been telling
me a year and a half!" She extricated herself from my arms and
sat down on the sofa, motioning me to a seat beside her.
"Ah, Eet !" I answered, " I have spent all these dreary months
in trying to hide my love from you ! How could I tell you ?"
" Do you remember the day you saved Herbert ? Do you re-
member how you held my hand, and how you said with your eyes,
with your hand, with every tone of your voice, fcE love you! I love
you! I love you!' Oh, my darling, I have been happier since that
day than ever before, since my father died! Do you remember
when I gave you the letters, in the drawing room yonder, and how
you flamed with rage when I said the Baltimore Harwoods were
false? Then I knew you were my cousin, and I thought you
were Barnard's son, and I thought I must never marry Bar-
nard's son, because my father's letter, leaving me free in all
else, forbade all intercourse with that unhappy man and his
family. And then" and the tears filled her gentle eyes "and
then I tried to find excuses for Barnard, and I thought I saw the
possibility of some other explanation of his dark story 5 and when
I learned your true relationship do you remember? it was on the
6th of August last year ! oh, happy day ! " And once more
she hid her eyes upon my breast.
" Eet, have you been loving me all this time I And oh, cruel !
keeping me in ignorance when you knew I was dying for a word
or a look "
"You foolish boy, I have been telling you all the time! Be
quiet, sir ! or I'll run away. Everybody else knew it Charley,
Lucille, cousin Alice, your sisters. Why, the first words your.
Mother said, when she kissed me, were, 4 My daughter !' "
A YEAE LATER 199
" Oh, I'll be in a towering rage presently," I said. " I ani too
happy now. How could I be such a mole ! I have avoided you !
stayed in Europe, trying to kill iny love by absence "
" I don't think you have avoided me much, sir !" said she, mali-
ciously. " I don't believe you stayed an hour longer in Europe
than was necessary. I think you came to New Orleans instead
of New York, you undutiful boy ! to see me before you saw your
Mother. I think you have been with me every minute when you
were not obliged to be elsewhere. Oh, such work as I have had
with Charley and your dear Mother, to keep them quiet! "
" How could you torture me, Bet ? "
" Come, sir, you have only been here a day, and the torture did
not last very long. Did you wish me to run up to you and say,
* Please to marry me, sir !' "
" I have a great mind to vow that I'll never marry you until you
ask me."
" Try it ! How dare you ! you great rude monster ! Let me
go ! I'll tell your Mother !" and she tore from me, pausing a mo-
ment at the door to throw me one loving look, and then, covering
her glowing face with white hands, sped away.
WEDNESDAY, September 2, 1837.
It seems to me that I am nearly done with journal writing. In-
deed, I do not know any sort of writing that will express my
present emotions. How can I write coherently, while Eet sits
there, only a few yards from me I She pretends to be engrossed
in a whispered dialogue with Mother. I wish I could make a
picture of those two ! My Mother is seated in the great armchair,
and my Eet is on a lower seat at her knee, and Mother's slender
fingers are tangling Eet's brown curls. I am jealous of both of
them by this light ! They love each other more than . Eet
shot a sly look at me and stopped that atrocious slander. My
love ! my love !
The wedding was a great success last night. There were forty
dashing beaux here. Some from the neighbourhood, sons of
planters, one or two from New Orleans, quondam admirers of the
bride, no doubt. Several from Baton Eouge, army officers and
embryo lawyers. Unfortunately, the first bridesmaid, Miss Har-
wood, did not dance, but she was kind enough to play for the
dancers, and I, who was too bashful to dance, turned over the
music for her. Probably some of the beaux thought I was a
200 HARWOOD.
regular muff, and probably they were right in their judgment.
It was midnight before they were all gone. Charley and his bride
went to his home in the state carriage followed by a cavalcade
of squires and dames, returning to their domiciles. Mr. Maltby's
carriage took his family and the city gentlemen ; and niy Mother
and sisters, Mr. Hamilton, the doctor and I, were the only guests
who remained at Harwood. We spent a quiet hour before we
separated for the night in the lovely moonlight, on the broad
verandah. Somehow, we fell into couples Alice and Mr. Hamil-
ton, Grace and the doctor, while Mother and Herbert courted
each other with unblushing effrontery. Eet and I had several
small dialogues about five seconds long. She was intent on hos-
pitable cares, and took fiendish delight in tantalizing me by
flying off to attend to some needful household duty a dozen times
in the hour. But to-day I have had a glorious time. Mother
wanted to see The Laurels, and, escorted by Herbert, she riding
Midnight, while he bestrode Dick, his rascally pony they went.
Eet and I walked. It is only a mile or two, and the morning was
charming. The girls had letters to write to Baltimore friends,
and we four formed the party. We stayed an hour in the shade of
the famous trees, Herbert recounting the story of the bathing ad-
venture, when he was " drownded," to eager listeners, and I was
forced to fight my terrible duel over again in detail. They would
not relinquish a solitary word, and kept me longer in telling the
story than the time occupied in the combat. They imperiously de-
manded each phase of my changing emotions from slight auger to
cool ferocity in the concluding passages.
On the return journey the equestrians soon distanced us, and
we lingered a little to admire the lovely glimpses of the bright
stream as it came into view through the glades of the forest. And
the darling tyrant steadfastly persisted in her inquisition until I
had told her all my thoughts on that terrible midnight, when I
walked out to the haunted grove alone. She seemed to gloat over
the recital of my misery, though she clutched my arm, and looked
at me with tearful eyes, while her face was bright with smiles.
In turn I propounded sundry questions, and will now proceed to
note down the substance of her replies. Much that has been
mysterious in the past record is cleared up by the dialogue that
enlivened that lovely walk.
The "engagement" betwixt Charley and Eet was a veritable
engagement, in so far as the tacit agreement of all parties in-
A YEAE LATER. 201
terested was concerned. Both of them had been taught from
early childhood that they should be man and wife when they were
of age. There had not been much talk betwixt them on the sub-
ject, as Eet instinctively avoided it, and Charley was not a very
eager wooer. After I appeared upon the scene, and especially
after Herbert's rescue and our subsequent intercourse (while
Charley was in New Orleans), she dismissed forever all idea of
fulfilling this quasi engagement. When he returned I was on my
way to Baltimore, and the dear girl says I took her heart with
me. She was certain that I was the son of her father's life-long
enemy, and many sorrowful days were spent in the struggle be-
tween her old devotion to her father and her new affection for me.
But she quietly gave Carr to understand that there would be no
marriage. He expostulated a little and then yielded, confessing
that he did not love her as he ought to love his wife, but certainly,
as a dear sister, whom he had known familiarly from, infancy.
Curiously enough he did not ask her any questions about her own
affections, but readily promised to say nothing about the sunder-
ing of the old compact. " Charley was very useful," she said, " in
keeping other young gentlemen away." But he had met Lucille
while in New Orleans, and as soon as it was settled that he was
free from the old tie, he began to discover that he did like Miss
Latour amazingly. Accordingly another trip to New Orleans soon
after my departure brought matters to a crisis, and Eet moved to
Harwood to play hostess to Charley's fiancee. When I returned,
and Carr announced his approaching marriage, it was nothing but
my repugnance to talk upon the subject prevented a full expla-
nation twenty times a day. The truth is, Charley was snubbed
whenever he approached the topic, and at last Eet discovered that
I was in unblissful ignorance of the true condition of affairs, and
supposing the truth would inevitably be revealed almost imme-
diately, she rather enjoyed my discomfort. Then events crowded
rapidly upon us. The attempt to rob, and then the conflict at The
Laurels, then Barnard's death, and my departure to Peusacola.
When I returned I found many changes had occurred. Mr. Carr
was dead, the marriage postponed, Lucille gone, and I was sum-
moned to New York and thence to Europe. I wrote regularly to
Herbert and sometimes to Carr, but never asked a question about
his marriage. Indeed, I could not. I received only two letters
from Charley, and he imitated me in avoiding that subject. Her-
bert's letters were carefully examined by Miss Eet, and therefore
202 HARWOOD.
I was not enlightened by him. " I could not endure the thought,"
she says, " that any one else should tell you. I had not decided
how to tell you, when you called me yesterday into the library,
but I knew the time had come then /"
" If it had not been for the diamonds, Ret "
" I knew all about the diamonds. Cousin Alice told me the
night before. Indeed, she made me promise to tell you at the
first opportunity, saying she would not allow her boy to be kept
in misery any longer. She says I am a < hardened wretch !'"
"Mother always tells the truth, Ret,"
" Does she? She has told me many things about you, sir! I
know the larger part of your history, up to your arrival in Carr-
ville, and now I mean to know the rest ! I want that journal,
sir !"
" You shall have it when you take me ! Oh, Ret ! consider how
long I have waited for you ! I can't live another week without
you "
"You are certainly stark crazy! I don't intend to think of
matrimony for ever so long "
"Let us make a bargain, Ret," I said, desperately. "Will you
let Mother fix the day ? I promise to say nothing if you will
promise to be guided by her. Is it a compact ?"
"I don't know I'll see about it there's the house, so behave
circumspectly, sir."
" Ret," I said, stopping suddenly, "if you don't promise to set-
tle this point this very day I will burn the journal before I sleep !"
" What a cold-blooded tyrant ! Come on, sir. I will promise to
talk to her if she asks me."
And they are talking about it this blessed minute. I can tell
by Ret's shy glances and by Mother's happy face.
Ret has suddenly demanded this book. She stands here by my
side while I trace these final lines. Shall I ever be allowed to
see it again? I cannot refuse to give
HARWOOD, Christmas, 1837.
By special favour I have the privilege of writing a little more in
this journal. For one solid month I have been the merest slave.
I no longer have liberties, preferences, opinions or property. On
Thursday, November 26th, I was taken into legal custody by a
remorseless female tyrant, who has never ceased to domineer over
and hector me since that day. She sits just opposite to me now
A YEAE LATEE. 203
in this dear library. Everybody else has gone to Manahio, and
we are to follow presently. We are to dine with Carr to-day.
Maltby, wife and daughter, Mr. Hamilton and Doctor Markhain
are in the party. On this day week we are to have them all here
Herbert doing the honours. Eet and I are guests of Mr. Her-
bert Harwood, and we have an invitation to " stay here and live
all over the house for forty years." I have engaged to kill two
wild turkeys, and Carr has promised another deer. We killed
one two days ago. I am now the ostensible owner of Midnight
with an encumbrance. Eet wore the diamonds a month ago, and
she has locked them up since, vowing that she will wear them no'
more. There are other articles that once belonged to me which
she wears - There ! she says I must stop " scribbling," give her
back "her" book, and get ready to start. To hear is to obey !
YEAR'S DAY, 1838.
I shall have a quiet hour or two. Eet is superintending the
cooking arrangements and I got her keys and have stolen iny
diary. I am writing in her room and am tolerably safe from in-
terruption. My darling says I write such " horrid nonsense " that
she is not willing to trust " her book " in my hands. Oh, how
happy I am ! But I have promised to write nothing " horrid "
this time.
There was a rich scene in the library this morning. Dr. Mark-
ham called early, pretending he had patients- in the neighbour-
hood ; but he came to see Grace. I was in the breakfast room
and Grace was in the library. The doors were open and I heard
what I now relate. I must say, by way of preface, that Markhain
has been extremely attentive to my little sister, and that she evi-
dently admires him. He went into the library, hunting for her,
and did not observe me as he passed the door.
" Good morning, Miss Grace," said the medico.
" Good morning, doctor. Take a seat ; I have just been read-
ing about you."
" About me! I did not know my fame was so extended. Do
you mean in that big book f
" Yes. Sit down and I'll read it to you."
" Hey ! I don't know. Is it long <?"
" I shan't read it now, sir !" and I heard the book slap as she
closed it 5 " it is a beautiful day."
" Yes ; rather. But you've no business with those thin shoes
on ! Have you been out ?"
204
" Certainly. Alice and I walked a mile at least this morning.''
" In those shoesi^
" Not both of us. She had her own shoes," answered Grace.
" Humph ! you have been taking lessons from Burton ! Wei
read the book."
" You will have to ask a little more politely, and also to m
fest a little more anxiety to hear it first."
" Hey F and the doctor meditated. " Well,"he said at
" tell me what you want me to say and I'll saV it."
I heard Grace turning over the leaves and presently she began
to read : " The country people use kitchen physic, and .common
experience tells us they Jive freest from all manner of infirmities
that make least use of apothecaries' physic. Many are overthrown
by preposterous use of it, and thereby get their b$e, that might
otherwise have escaped. Some think physicians kill as many
they save, and who can tell ( 4 Here's some Latin, 7 said Grace,
parenthesis, i and I am afraid to try to read that ; besides, I doirt
know what it means '). ho^ inanv murders (tfiey make in a year
(more Latin), that may freely kill folks andrhave a reward for it ?
and according to the Dutch provJerb a irew physician must have
a new churchyard 5 and who observes ijfnot ?" Here Grace went
off into a violent fit of laughing.
" What the dev I mean, what book are you reading, Miss
Grace?" / /
" Wait, wait !" she answered, fi there's more of it, and it gets
better and better." She^sume^a : " Many that did ill under phy-
sicians' hands have happily escaped when they have been given
over by them left to God, and nature, and themselves. 'Twas
Pliny's dilemma of old : every disease is either curable or incur-
able. A man recovers of it or is killed by it ; both ways, physic is
to be rejected." Another long laugh, in which the doctor joined.
Then Grace went on : " If it be deadly it cannot be cured ; if it
may be helped it requires no physician Nature will expel it of
itself. Plato made it a great sign of an. intemperate and corrupt
commonwealth where lawyers and physicians did abound 5 and
the Eomans detested them so much that they were often banished
out of their city, as Pliny and Celsus relate for 600 years not ad-
mitted. It is no art at all, as some hold, no, not worthy the name
of a liberal science (nor law neither), as Pet. And. Canonherius, a
patrician of Eome and a great doctor himself, proves by sixteen
arguments, because it is mercenary as now used base, and, as
fiddlers play, for a reward."
A YEAR LATER. 205
" Oh, doctor," said Grace, " it is prime! as cousin Herbert says
it is positively jolly !"/
" What book is that f ' said the doctor. " Burton, by all the
gods ! I thought so ! AT here did you get this book, Miss
Grace V
" It is my brother's," she answered.
" Did he select this delectable passage for you ?"
" Oh, no $ I stumbled on it by accident just before you came."
" Young ladies have a wonderful faculty for stumbling upon
forbidden fruit. However, there is a great deal of truth in it.
Old Burton don't make many mistakes. Do you like to read
hiinF
" Not much. There is so much Latin, and besides, he is so
prosy."
" I suppose you prefer the stuff you call poetry f ' said the doc-
tor.
" Poetry is not i stuff,' sir at least it is not so bad as < doctor's
stuff,' according to Burton. He says a little lower down that
the old gentleman was the first inventor of physic."
"If I was not so old," said the doctor, deliberately, " I
should "
"Old!" interrupted Grace.
" Well, I mean if you were not so young "
" Young ! I'm nineteen !"
"The d euce*you are! Hey? I was going to say I should
like to ask you if I might fall in love with you ? But it would be
a horrid shame to ask so charming a young lady to marry an old
devil of a doctor. There ! you need not run. I'm not going to
say another word. I am going to dine here to-day, ain't 1 1 Well,
I must go see Carr's sick negro. Good bye, Miss Burton !"
"Don't call me Miss Burton, if you please."
" Hey *? I should like to call you Mrs. Markham. There ! I am
going ! Suppose I were to brush my hah* nice and smooth and let
my whiskers grow f
" Do go, doctor. Your patient will die -felo de se instead of
felo de medico. 77
" I thought you did not know Latin ? Grace, I am in earnest ;
would you think me insane if I "
" There, doctor, you have carried this joke far enough," said
Grace.
" Joke ! I tell you I love you, you little vixen !" and here I
206 HARWOOD.
sneaked out of the breakfast room, as the business appeared to be
growing serious.
The mail has just arrived. My lady has brought me a letter
with the London post mark. It is addressed to "Sir Herbert
Harwood, Bart," and is from Mr. Parchment. It contains but a
few lines, informing me of the removal of all technical obstacles,
and inviting me to " take possession of my estate in Essex."
******* *
HARWOOD HOUSE, ESSEX, November 26, 1847.
My lady gave me my old book to-day, which has but one blank
leaf left. She must know it by heart, as I have caught her read-
ing it many times in the past ten years. What can I say on this
final page ? My darling will have it back when I complete the
record, and she has forbidden me to write anything about her.
But I have nothing else to write about and I have no thoughts in
which she has not a place my Eet !
I erred in the above statement. I have four things to write
about, to wit : John Harwood, aged eight, a young rascal of fiery
impulses and tender heart. Herbert, aged six, who promises to
be gentle and good, exhibiting a certain calm determination in
surmounting difficulties. Allen, my baby boy, claiming the
allegiance of my household, although manifesting no "moral
qualities " to mention.
But the fourth 1 have kept the best for the last. She stands
here at my knee, tugging at my watch chain. Imperious and wil-
ful, with three years 7 experience of life, and thirty years of wisdom
in her clear, calm eyes. Her mother's eyes ! and her name is Eet.
Xot Henrietta, but EET ! There is no name like that !
5 <w
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UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY