THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 THOMAS RUFFIN. 
 
 BY 
 
 E. W. GILLIAM, M. D. 
 AUTHOR OP "1791 : A TALE OF SAN DOMINGO." 
 
 BALTIMORE: 
 
 NICHOLS, KILLAM & MAFFITT, 
 1896.
 
 COPYRIGHTED, 1896, BY E. W. GILLIAM, M. D. 
 
 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
 
 PS- 
 1144 
 
 Muffin. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 CLOUD CAP. 
 
 "From our New Orleans commission merchant," 
 said the manager of Cloud Cap, as he stood on his 
 piazza a fine summer morning and opened a letter 
 Lucinda, the maid, had just brought over from the 
 mansion. 
 
 Cloud Cap was one of the loveliest, most fertile, 
 best conducted, and most prosperous estates in the 
 far South sixty odd years ago. John Ruffin was its 
 owner. It had long been the seat of a splendid 
 hospitality. The recent death of Mrs. Ruffin had 
 piit an end to this, and, with advancing age, John 
 Ruffin' s care was now all centred on his son Thomas. 
 
 Cloud Cap lay upon a goodly river, three miles 
 above the fine, old-fashioned, hospitable, thriving 
 town of L , the latter at the head of steamboat
 
 4 Thomas Ruffin. 
 
 navigation, and controlling an extensive back-coun 
 try trade. Those would have thought the appella 
 tion strange, who were unfamiliar with the local 
 traditions. Cloud Cap, indeed, was somewhat of an 
 eminence, yet by no means so commanding as to 
 justify such a title. In fact, the name was not 
 derived from the locality at all, but from a gigantic 
 Indian Chief (Cloud Cap being the English synonym 
 for his Indian name), whose wigwam, in days far 
 away back, stood on this site the village of his 
 people occupying the river plain below. 
 
 The mansion so roomy and so comfortable, with 
 great airy passages, and broad piazzas, a typical 
 Southern gentleman's home stood high upon the 
 river's hill, among lordly ash and oak. 
 
 Southward half a mile ran the main road, whence 
 a broad avenue skirted on either side by tidy, 
 white-washed negro cabins led up to Cloud Cap. 
 Towards the North the hill-side was finely wooded 
 and carefully kept down to the lowest point of the 
 declivity, where it terminated in a magnificent 
 plantation of river low ground. 
 
 Mr. Ruffin was a man of affluence and owned a 
 number of plantations; but this, known as the 
 4 'Indian Field," was the pride of them all. Two 
 crescent curves, formed on one side by the foot line 
 of the hill and on the opposite side by the bend of 
 the river, inclosed an oval area of some 400 acres. 
 It was perfectly level, so that a dog at one extremity 
 could be seen at the other, and famed for fertility. 
 In a former age it had been the site of an Indian
 
 T7iomas Ruffin. 5 
 
 village, and Mr. Ruffin would point out to his friends 
 the positions of wigwams here and there, from the 
 superior fertility marking certain distinctly circum 
 scribed spots due, in his view, to the ashes and 
 bones thrown out by the squaws. 
 
 "From our New Orleans commission house," said 
 the manager opening the letter. Evidently it was 
 an interesting and agreeable communication; for his 
 countenance took on a most pleased expression, as 
 he read. 
 
 "A sales ticket ! Well done, Cloud Cap !" he 
 exclaimed exultingly, as he completed the perusal. 
 
 "John Ruffin, Esq." (re-reading the letter and aloud) : 
 DEAR SIR : Please find below statement of sales : 
 
 400 Bales Cotton at lOc $20,000 
 
 330 Bar'l Rice at 6c 5,400 
 
 100 Hhd's Sugar at 6c 10.000 
 
 35,400 
 Commission at 5 per cent 628 
 
 Net amount, 84,772 
 
 This sum, at your request, has been placed in bank to your 
 credit. Please find herewith certificate of bank deposit. 
 
 Hope sales are satisfactory. With many thanks and soliciting 
 further consignments, we remain respectfully, 
 
 NOTT & Co., Cotton Factors." 
 
 "35,000 net ! Well done, I say, old Cloud Cap ! 
 Where has Cloud Cap her equal ? Cloud Cap caps 
 climax! C. C. C. C. ! Four C's. What does that 
 mean? Why, that Cloud Cap's the finest estate 
 within the four seas that is, in all America. Ha ! 
 ha! ha!"
 
 6 Thomas Ruffin. 
 
 The reappearance of Lucinda cut short the thread 
 of the manager's exultations. 
 
 "Please, Sir," she said with a curtsey, "Cupid 
 wants to know what time it is." 
 
 "Yes, Sir," curtseying. 
 
 "Send Cupid to me at once." 
 
 "Yes, Sir," responded Lucinda with a low curtsey, 
 as she retired. 
 
 "Our carriage driver has been strangely remiss," 
 soliloquized the manager. "His orders were express 
 to have the baggy at the village for Thomas Ruffin 
 an hour ago 8 o'clock. The stage that brings 
 Thomas is due at the village at half-past 8." 
 
 As reflections of this character were passing 
 through his mind, from the rear Cupid was approach 
 ing a big, black, bald, ungainly negro, no darling 
 doubtless among dusky damsels, but a true prince 
 among whips. His array was strictly in coachman 
 style, a foil to his ungainliness, and he bore the air 
 of importance usually attaching to a wealthy gentle 
 man's carriage driver. 
 
 "How is it you are here, Sir ?" cried the manager 
 harshly, as he turned at the sound of Cupid's step. 
 "You had explicit orders to have the buggy at the 
 village at 8." 
 
 "I knowed, San," replied Cupid, with a profound 
 bow, "de orders wus exquisite." 
 
 "Why, then, did you neglect such orders ?" asked 
 the manager, sharply interrupting. 
 
 "Very sorry," (bowing); "but the carriage-house 
 clock shet down at 7, an' I' s jes dis minit found it out."
 
 Thomas Ruffin. 7 
 
 "Hurry off! hurry off! and don't let Mr. Ruffin 
 see you. Thomas is waiting at the village, if not 
 now on the way in a hired vehicle." 
 
 "Yes, Sah! yes, Sah !" responded Cupid, hastily 
 bowing himself out of the manager's presence, as 
 the latter opened a letter from the table, whereon 
 lay the morning mail, and glanced at it. 
 
 "More Cloud Cap peals, perhaps from Thomas 
 Sanford & Co. the New Orleans house that's coin 
 ing money so. Ah ! there's a rhyme." 
 
 "To John Ruffing (reading aloud): 
 
 "DEAR SIR : Check received. Your funds in bank have been 
 transferred to this house, and placed to your credit. Please find 
 enclosed receipt. 
 
 Mr. Sanford, senior member, will personally write you and 
 transmit papers. 
 
 Yours truly, 
 
 THOMAS SANFORD & Co." 
 
 "This is personal, and should have been so mark 
 ed. Yes, papers came yesterday, as Mr. Ruffin 
 informed me. Nott & Co. had written sale x^roceeds, 
 and the Boss checked out all his cash to this new 
 hustling house. Hope it's a safe venture. They 
 promise big money." 
 
 The manager at once stepped over to the mansion, 
 to hand Mr. Ruffin the Sanford letter. He found 
 him giving directions to the servants, touching 
 arrangements for an expected visit from old friends 
 of his, Adam Peale, and his wife, Martha. 
 
 Adam Peale was a Quaker by religion, a merchant 
 by calling, a round-faced, dumpy, kind-hearted, 
 jolly old gentleman. He resided in one of the great
 
 8 Thomas Jluffin. 
 
 Northern cities had long had business relations 
 with Mr. Ruffin and out of these had grown a close 
 friendship, to be emphasized by this anticipated 
 visit to Cloud Cap. 
 
 The spouse, Martha, was as true-hearted and good- 
 hearted as her lord, but showed the sharp outlines 
 of form and feature, that usually, for some cause or 
 other, characterize the Quakers or Friends, if that 
 be better. Not a shadow of disrespect is meant, 
 good reader, in using the former designation. 
 
 John Ruffin was a typical Southern gentleman, 
 under the old regime, high-toned, generous, culti 
 vated, and courteous. Physically, of spare habit- 
 angular frame muscles thin and skin of a dark or 
 earthy hue. The face gave indications of energy, 
 and movements were hasty and abrupt. He was 
 turned of fifty, but looked older the general ex 
 pression, one of subdued sadness. His eldest son 
 had shown a wild, roving disposition, and, some 
 years before the beginning of this narrative, had 
 gone West in search of fortune. Then his letters 
 began to drop off. Then they ceased. Strenuous, 
 unwearied quest proved fruitless. It was many 
 a day since any tidings had been received, and he 
 was given up for dead. Recently, Mr. Ruffin had 
 lost his wife, a loving* and lovable woman, and he 
 was tenderly attached to her not, however, in that 
 essential and peculiar way he was to Thomas, who 
 now alone remained to him. Naturally, one cannot 
 love his wife as he loves his child. Beyond the 
 qualities that -command friendship, the normal rela-
 
 Thomas Ruffin. 9 
 
 tion of husband and wife is sexual only. Between 
 parent and child there is blood tie, and the parent, 
 withal, marks his own self reappearing in the fea 
 tures and characteristics of his offspring. 
 
 The Manager had scarcely left, when the bell 
 rang, the door opened, and Lucinda ushered in the 
 Peales, in full Quaker style and travelling garb. 
 
 "Bless me ! My city friends !." exclaimed John 
 Ruffin, amidst great hand-shaking. "Why, I ex 
 pected you by the next boat.' ' 
 
 "Doth it disturb thee, John." quoth Friend Peale, 
 rallying his host, "that we have anticipated the 
 visit's beginning?" 
 
 "No! No! not unless you make it ground for 
 shortening the visit's end." 
 
 A hearty ha ! ha ! ha ! greeted the sally. 
 
 "Delighted to see you," exclaimed John Ruffin. 
 "A thousand welcomes to Cloud Cap. Here, Mrs. 
 Peale, take the chair of honor," drawing forward, 
 as he spoke, an ancient looking chair "a family 
 relic of most venerable ancestry, and with a seat 
 wrought by my own hands." 
 
 "By thy own hands?" she queried, with a mingled 
 expression of curiosity and astonishment. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Well ! I declare ! who'd have thought it !" she 
 exclaimed, as she examined the chair's bottom. 
 
 "It'sjthe soft inside shuck, Madam, split, damp 
 ened, and twisted." 
 
 "We never see the like with us."
 
 10 Thomas Ruffin. 
 
 "Your North lands can't grow onr Southern 
 shucks." 
 
 "Where did thee pick it up?" 
 
 "In the cabins, when a boy. Shucking chairs is 
 a negro's common source of pocket change." 
 
 "Thee has a trade, John," quoth the good woman 
 laughing. 
 
 "Something, Mrs. Peale, to fall back on, should 
 fortune fail." 
 
 "To have been Cloud Cap's owner," interjected 
 Friend Peale, "and a chair-mender 
 
 "You consider two states wide apart, perhaps," 
 interrupted Mr. Ruffin, smiling and anticipating the 
 sentiment. 
 
 "Yea! ha! ha! ha!" Friend Peale heartily re 
 sponded. 
 
 "Stranger things have happened, Friend Peale. 
 I may yet twist shucks for a living," said the host 
 with assumed gravity. Whereat the jolly Quaker 
 discharged another volley: "Ha! ha! ha! Get out, 
 John, get out !" 
 
 "I'm glad the carriage happened to be at the land 
 ing," said Mr. Ruffin. 
 
 "And the driver, at my request," remarked his 
 guest, "drove hither in a circuit, to show the estate 
 to best advantage." 
 
 "Well, Friend Peale, you've often heard, I'm 
 sure, of Cloud Cap." 
 
 "Yea, John when have I sold thee a bill of goods 
 that I haven't heard of it?"
 
 Thomas Ruffin. 11 
 
 "Ha ! ha ! ha ! Well, now that you have seen it, 
 what have you to say ?" interrogated the host. 
 
 "What the Queen of Sheba said to Solomon." 
 He paused an instant as if in the effort to recall the 
 exact quotation, and before he could say what the 
 Queen of Sheba said, his ready little wife came to 
 his rescue and broke in, taking her good man's 
 words: 
 
 "Behold! the half was not told me." 
 
 She immediately saw the discourtesy in Friend 
 Peale's look of surprise, but sought to put a good 
 face on the incident, and replied in smiles: 
 
 "Please, Adam, let a she say what a she said ;" 
 and a ringing laugh saluted the bit of pleasantry. 
 
 It had scarcely subsided, when Mrs. Peale ob 
 served, with the splendid plantation scenes she had 
 just witnessed, vividly before her: 
 
 "And /thought upon the Royal Prophet's "words, 
 as tyis eye caught the rich harvests of Judea." 
 
 But she was not allowed to finish. Friend Peale 
 was now ahead of time, and taking, in his turn, his 
 wife's words, solemnly but quickly interjected: 
 
 "The valleys stand so thick with corn, they laugh 
 and sing." 
 
 And to her surprised look and shade of annoy 
 ance at the implied rebuke, he still solemnly an 
 swered: 
 
 "Please, Martha, let a he say what a lie said." 
 
 Another ringing laugh from all greeted the hit 
 and smoothed out the little wrinkle, and honors
 
 12 Thomas Ruffln. 
 
 were considered easy between good man and spouse. 
 
 "The negro quarters make a village, John," re 
 marked Friend Peale, still ringing the changes on 
 Cloud Cap. 
 
 "And look so clean and nice in white-wash," Mrs. 
 Peale added. 
 
 "And the Blacks are so polite," said he. 
 
 "And seem contented and happy," said she. 
 
 "And the grounds, John, are lovely," Friend 
 Peale continued, multiplying the merited encom 
 iums. 
 
 "Well ! well ! Cloud Cap praises are pleasing," 
 replied Mr. Ruffin to all this ; "but you're dusty 
 and tired, and must not be kept from your rooms" 
 (ringing up servant as he speaks). "After rest and 
 refreshment I'll show you round myself, and then I 
 think you' 11 say with all who have been here, there 
 is but one Cloud Cap ." 
 
 At this point Lucinda entered with a'curtesy. 
 
 "Here, Lucinda," said the host, "show our guests 
 to their rooms, and see that the luggage is all right." 
 
 In those days the tongues of maid servants were 
 often in their knees, and Lucinda silently responded 
 in a curtsey. 
 
 With renewed and mutual expressions of pleasure 
 at the meeting, the Peales retire, and the door 
 which opens for their exit, admits another visitor, 
 who had been in waiting, Mr. Le Wray. 
 
 The latter was leading lawyer resident at L , 
 
 whom Mr. Ruffin generally consulted. He had been
 
 Thomas Ruffin. 13 
 
 sent for on this occasion touching a matter of spe 
 cial importance. 
 
 "Come in, Mr. Le Wray," said Mr. Ruffin, ac 
 cording to a mode of speech not unfrequently ad 
 dressed to one already wholly "in," as in the pres 
 ent instance ; for the attorney was advancing to 
 wards the speaker. "I've sent for you," he con 
 tinued, after exchange of salutations, "to submit 
 certain papers bearing on the provision I wish to 
 make for Thomas." 
 
 "Very well, Sir." 
 
 "You know I'm an anxious Father." 
 
 "Yes, Sir." 
 
 "But how anxious how peculiar how silly, it 
 may be you don't know." 
 
 "No I don't know that yet, Mr. Ruffin." 
 
 "There has never lived a Father, I believe, with a 
 heart so tender, so framed to be anxious and never 
 a son, I believe, who, while so amiable, is so formed 
 to rouse anxiety." 
 
 "Come ! Mr. Ruffiii, 'twon't do to nurse extremes, 
 Sir." 
 
 "I'm peculiar, I tell you the most peculiar Father 
 on earth, perhaps. It's my nature." 
 
 "But reason should moderate natural tendencies." 
 
 "Can't help it, Le Wray. . I'm a fool, perhaps, 
 about Thomas. Would you believe, that, when I 
 think of him in certain relations, I'm filled with 
 inexpressible sadness l" 
 
 "You astonish me, Sir !"
 
 14 Thomas Ruffin. 
 
 "I suffer a kind of agony." 
 
 "Mr. Ruffin ! What on earth can you mean ?" 
 
 "Thomas is so unfitted for the world, Le Wray." 
 
 "Ha! ha! ha! Such a disparity, Mr. Ruffin, 
 between the manifesto and the conduct of the war. 
 1 thought you were about to charge against the lad 
 some heinous offense, or fatal infirmity. Ha ! 
 ha! ha!" 
 
 "I fear it is a fatal infirmity." 
 
 Pray, Sir, how is he unfitted for the world?" 
 
 "In many ways, Le Wray." 
 
 'Will you please specify them ?" 
 
 "He seems so feeble." 
 
 "Let him then nurse his muscularity, Mr. Ruffin. 
 The remedy lies there." 
 
 "I don't mean physical feebleness, though his 
 body is not the strongest. I mean a feeble nature, 
 poor child. As lovable and intelligent as he is, I 
 fear in him and God only knows how it weighs 
 upon me a softness, a weakness of character, that 
 disqualifies for the world." 
 
 "What evidence do you offer?" 
 
 "He's so impulsive, so wanting in judgment, Le 
 Wray." 
 "He's but a youth, yet." 
 
 "A whim takes him. Immediately he gratifies 
 it the thing's bought or exchanged, the bargain 
 made and immediately he's dissatisfied and un 
 happy. No stability, no firm opinions, no strength 
 of character."
 
 Thomas Ruffin. 16 
 
 "Many a fine and successful man, Sir, has shown 
 such whims in youth." 
 
 "But Thomas' seem so excessive." 
 
 "Educate, educate, Mr. Ruffin. Time and care 
 will wear down and round off the eccentricities 
 which, indeed, your excessive solicitude must greatly 
 exaggerate." 
 
 "Ah ! Le Wray, you don't see him as I do, the 
 most diffident and most sensitive of mortals." 
 
 ".Because I don't see him through a lense of dis 
 tortion." 
 
 "He's full of affection ready to lean sighs for 
 companionship yet all in vain. Excessive diffi 
 dence discourages advances. Venturing among com 
 panions, excessive sensitiveness makes him a target. 
 He's self -driven from them, and, poor child, ever 
 doomed to isolation." 
 
 "You are conjuring up a Thomas, that, in my 
 humble opinion, has no existence, Mr. Ruffin." 
 
 "Better, perhaps, had he never existed." 
 
 "Mr. Ruffin!" 
 
 "Since preordained to special suffering." 
 
 "Are you crazy, Sir?" 
 
 "Afflicted in his parents, Le Wray." 
 
 "On my soul you must be crazy, Sir." 
 
 "His mother 
 
 "Mr. Ruffin! Mr. Ruffin!" interrupted the law 
 yer, "this will never do. Arraign your saintly wife, 
 and the sod scarce rooted over her grave !" 
 
 "No! Le Wray no, Sir ! no! no!"
 
 16 Thomas Ruffin. 
 
 I've never known one to approach your late wife, 
 Mr. Ruffin." 
 
 "Nor I, Le Wray." 
 
 "Her self-abnegation, purity, and sweetness 
 
 "Had no equal," broke in Mr. Ruffin, resolved no 
 one should be before him in his wife's praises. 
 
 "She was the charm of her circle." 
 
 "Most truly spoken, Le Wray." 
 
 "And made religion amiable in the eyes of all who 
 knew her." 
 
 "Yes, yes. One so nearly perfect I shall never 
 see again." 
 
 "How, then, an afflicting Mother, Mr. Ruffin ?" 
 
 "She was neurotic and supersensitive, and should 
 never have wed a supersensitive neurotic like me." 
 
 "Ha! ha! ha !" responded the lawyer. 
 
 "Merriment is out of place, Mr. Le Wray." 
 
 "Pardon me, Mr. Ruffin." 
 
 "I'm disturbed in mind, even distressed, Sir. The 
 acute cause you'll know later on." 
 
 "I pray, Sir, pardon the laugh, provoked by a 
 contrast. You were pressing a similarity in respect 
 to your wife's temperament, while I have ever recog 
 nized a clear opposition.' 1 ' 1 
 
 "A clear opposition !" 
 
 "Yes, Sir. You a distinct brunette she a dis 
 tinct blonde ; and I may add; the fruit of such a 
 union by natural law should be harmonious." 
 
 "Should be.! But is it 't Fact outweighs theory, 
 Le Wray as no one ought to know so well as a
 
 TJwmas Ruffin. 17 
 
 lawyer. Thomas' nature harmonious ! How can it 
 be, combining the nervous idiosyncracies of his 
 parents '( This very day he returns from school, 
 because life there is a torment. Try as he may, the 
 poor, sensitive, diffident fellow cannot get on with 
 the boys, and is so completely isolated and unhappy, 
 that, should he remain, I would fear for his mind." 
 
 "I've seen timid youths make manly men, I could 
 tell you, Mr. Ruffin ; but you set your face against 
 counsel and comfort." 
 
 "What a mercy ! could I think so about Thomas; 
 for I suffer because of him." 
 
 "When, for the life of me, I can see no adequate 
 cause." 
 
 "I bear the child, now alone left to me, an affec 
 tion so singular that the thought of his helpless 
 ness " 
 
 "His helplessness !" interrupted the lawyer. "Sir, 
 you will work yourself into a deranged state. Why 
 such anticipations? The man's hand, I repeat, is 
 not yet all revealed in the lad. Exaggeration and 
 imagination are running away with you, Sir." 
 
 "Call me a fool, if you will, but " 
 
 "This Thomas, Sir so helpless, so feeble in char 
 acter may yet take care of you, Mr. Ruffin," again 
 interrupted the lawyer, unable to restrain himself 
 at fancies he considered so unreasonable. 
 
 "Yes, call me a fool but the thought of his 
 helplessness, in the possible struggles of life, makes 
 my heart sink from excess of tendernesss."
 
 18 Thomas Ruffin. 
 
 "But why, why worry yourself with any thought 
 of life-struggles you so amply rich?" 
 
 "True. I can provide for him. Thank God! for 
 that resource. Should aught happen, Le Wray, to 
 take it from me I believe Fd go mad" 
 
 "Why allude, at all, to such a contingency, Mr. 
 Ruffin? You can't have apprehensions in that di 
 rection?" asked the lawyer, with a manner indi 
 cating awakened interest. 
 
 "No-o," was the reply, in a tone of reservation. 
 "But there are matters to be spoken of presently. 
 Now, as to the provision for Thomas 
 
 The sentence was cut off by the entrance of 
 Lucinda. 
 
 "Please, Sir," she said with a curtsey, "the over 
 seers is a waitin'." 
 
 "Tell them to come in." 
 
 "Yes, Sir," she replied curtseying, and retired, 
 to give the message. 
 
 These field-overseers were elderly, experienced 
 negroes, known for integrity and farming skill. 
 Each had charge of a gang of laborers. All were 
 under the Manager, and at the head was Mr. Ruffin 
 himself. A thorough master of plantation work in 
 all its details, he took an active part in inspecting 
 and directing, as his time allowed. He had been 
 over the fields the day before, and had instructed 
 the Manager to send up the overseers for special 
 orders. 
 
 A moment' 1 later they enter, with profound bows 
 and a sense of importance awkwardly exhibited a
 
 Thomas Ruffin. 19 
 
 half dozen, Amos, Solomon and others and line 
 themselves against the wall opposite the seats occu 
 pied by the Master and his visitor. 
 
 "Well, Boys,' 1 spoke Mr. Ruffin, "Cloud Cap 
 must do its level best this season." 
 
 "Yes, Sah!" they all answer in unison, with the 
 bow that waited on every address to the Master. 
 
 "I want it to make me all the cash it can." 
 
 "Yes, Sah!" 
 
 "See that your gangs do their duty." 
 
 "Yes, Sah !" 
 
 "Amos 1" 
 
 "Yes, Sah!" Amos responded with a low bow, 
 as he stepped forward. 
 
 "Run thirty plows in the Indian Field." 
 
 "Yes, Sah !" 
 
 "I want that corn finished up, while the ground's 
 damp and in condition." 
 
 "Yes, Sah ! De ground's in fine perdition, Sah," 
 Amos replied with a broad grin and bow of unusual 
 strength, elated at his display of speech, and withal 
 visibly stimulating the lawyer's risibles. 
 
 "Well, Solomon!" said the Master, addressing the 
 second overseer. 
 
 "Yes, Sah!" spoke up Solomon with the bow, 
 stepping forward briskly, as Amos retired to the 
 line. 
 
 "Put sixty hoes in the cotton." 
 
 "Yes, Sah !" 
 
 "Pine day for exterminating grass, Solomon." 
 
 "Yes, Sah ! Splendid day, Sah, for germinatin'
 
 20 TJiomas Ruffin. 
 
 de grass, Sah!" rejoined Solomon, and with a 
 chuckle of exultation, that, if he had not surpassed 
 Amos, he was up to him at least in the gift of 
 tongues. 
 
 "You other Boys!" said the Master, calling up 
 the rest. 
 
 "Yes, Sah!" they answer stepping forward, as 
 Solomon now retires to line. 
 
 "Go on with the work you were doing yesterday." 
 
 "Yes, Sah !" 
 
 "That's all." 
 
 "Yes, Sah!" answer the "other Boys" as they 
 turn to resume their places. 
 
 Mr. Ruffin pauses a moment in reflection, and then 
 remarks: 
 
 "You can retire now." 
 
 The overseers, not comprehending retire remain 
 standing and in a species of bewilderment. To 
 cover their ignorance in a stranger's presence, the 
 Master endeavors by look and gesture to have them 
 leave, while they, not knowing what to do and grin 
 ning stupidly, exchange glances with him and with 
 each other. 
 
 "Can't you understand !" exclaimed Mr. Ruffin, 
 ending the scene with a tone of irritation. "You 
 can leave now, I say." 
 
 "Yes, Sah ! yes, Sah !" the overseers make answer, 
 bowing and retiring briskly. 
 
 "Fine looking darkies," observed the lawyer, as 
 the door closed behind them.
 
 Thomas Ruffin. 21 
 
 "With a fine knowledge of farming, too, I can tell 
 you, Le Wray." 
 
 "And lean add, Mr. Ruffin, a fine discrimination 
 in respect to language." 
 
 A smile from John Ruffin greeted the banter, as 
 he took up the broken thread of conversation. 
 
 "Now, as to the provision for Thomas: He has 
 no aptitude nor fancy, I think, for plantation man 
 agement. But he has mind, is well educated and 
 fond of books, and altogether, I judge, literature 
 will be his field. I purpose, therefore, to accumu 
 late cash up to $100,000 invest this for him in a 
 life annuity and leave Cloud Cap in a trust, for his 
 benefit. He can, then, when I am gone, choose a 
 residence in some favorable city, where his literary 
 tastes may be pursued to best advantage, with a 
 fortune needing a minimum of care." 
 
 "Well!" threw in the lawyer in a lawyerlike way, 
 tapping the table with his finger and settling down 
 to business, as Mr. Ruffin made a momentary pause. 
 
 "To get the $100,000 in the quickest way possi 
 ble^" continued Mr. Ruffin, "I've become a limited 
 copartner in the New Orleans Cotton House of 
 Thomas Sanford & Co." 
 
 "How much have you invested, Mr. Ruffin?" 
 
 "$50,000 all my cash." 
 
 "How much do the Sanfords offer, Sir?" 
 
 "30 per cent." 
 
 "Did you examine into the Firm's condition ?" 
 
 "No. Mr. Sanford is a very near and a very dear
 
 22 Thomas Ruffin. 
 
 cousin, as you're aware, and I accepted his state 
 ments." 
 
 "In affairs of this sort, it's advisable to watch 
 even near and dear cousins, Mr. Ruffin. Cousins 
 have proven cozening, where personal interests are 
 involved." 
 
 "Do you reflect upon my kinsman, Sir?" 
 
 "Not at all, Mr. Ruffin. I'm simply giving my 
 experience as a lawyer, and in the light of that ex 
 perience advise you to be on guard. Mr. Sanford is 
 one of our first citizens, I know, and entirely trust 
 worthy." 
 
 "Why the caution, then, against accepting his 
 statements?" 
 
 "He may be deceived." 
 
 "He ! the head of the House !" 
 
 "The nominal head, but not the active Manager, 
 Mr. Ruffin. Mr. Sanford is a resident of our town 
 and often absent from New Orleans, and the state 
 of affairs there cannot always be known to him." 
 
 Mr. Ruffin reflected a moment in a worried way, 
 and then remarked: 
 
 "But, Le Wray, the House, though a new one, 
 has had remarkable success. Surely, there can be 
 no danger." 
 
 "Yes and success due to remarkably bold specu 
 lation, as I hear." 
 
 "Why that emphasis on "bold"{ Do you 
 suppose Mr. Sanford would countenance illegiti 
 mate business ?"
 
 Thomas Ruffin. 23 
 
 "Not illegitimate in the sense of being per se dis 
 honest." 
 
 "In what sense then?" 
 
 "That of oindue hazard." 
 
 "Why suppose undue hazard Tieref" 
 
 "A promise of 30 per cent, in cotton means rash 
 speculation, if it means anything, Mr. Ruffin. The 
 House has leaped into wealth by taking heavy risks 
 and making hits. But tides ebb, as well as flow." 
 
 "I wish I had consulted you before investigating," 
 said Mr. Ruffin, with an expression of alarm mani 
 festly gathering on his countenance. 
 
 "Have you heard any rumors, Sir?" 
 
 "Why? Have you, Le Wray?" 
 
 "Have youT 
 
 "Yes, to speak the honest truth ; and I'm really 
 alarmed. Some days ago I received outside advices 
 reflecting on the House, and at once wrote Mr. San- 
 ford, now in New Orleans. I'm looking any mo 
 ment for an answer. And yesterday's mail brought 
 another letter repeating these adverse reports." 
 
 "I'm glad your Copartnership is limited, and 
 affecting but a fraction of your means." 
 
 "And this brings up the very matter for consul 
 tation. Please see if this copartnership instrument 
 is correct. Mr. Sanford had it drawn. These ru 
 mors have disturbed me, and I must be reassured 
 Pin not involved beyond the sum invested." 
 
 Mr. Le Wray carefully examines the paper, and 
 returns it with the remark: 
 
 "It's all right, Sir."
 
 24 * Thomas Muffin. 
 
 "Well! I'm relieved!" exclaimed John Ruffin, 
 stretching himself back in his seat with an air of 
 the greatest satisfaction. 
 
 "But, Mr. Ruffin, the validity of the limitation 
 clause rests on two conditions." 
 
 "Ah! What are they?" eagerly asks the client. 
 
 "First: You are to take no active -part in the 
 management." 
 
 "I've taken none." 
 
 "Second: Publication must be made." 
 
 "Publication !" cried out Mr. Rumn bending for 
 ward, as alarm again loured over his features. 
 
 "Yes. Has this been omitted ?" 
 
 "Mr. Sanford said nothing about publication," 
 the client evasively answered, postponing the nega 
 tive, to take in the turn matters had assumed, and 
 the signs of alarm visibly increasing. 
 
 "Have you made then, or caused to be made, no 
 publication of the transaction ?" pointedly asked 
 the lawyer. 
 
 "None, Sir," was the faltering reply. 
 
 "Then, Mr. Ruffin, this paper is absolutely n^il as 
 far as a limited copartnership is concerned, and 
 your entire means are involved in the fortunes of 
 the Sanford House." 
 
 "My God !" broke forth John Ruffin,' rising from 
 his seat with a blanched countenance. 
 
 "Be calm, Mr. Ruffin. Don't lose your head. 
 Matters may not be bad after all." 
 
 "What d'you advise r <"
 
 Thomas Ruffin. 25 
 
 "To leave at once for New Orleans, or rather write 
 there, and have publication made." 
 
 "But suppose something has happened, Le 
 Wray?" 
 
 "We'll not suppose something, till we know some 
 thing," the lawyer rejoined. 
 
 He had scarcely ended the sentence, when the 
 door opened and friend Peale and his wife in high 
 feather came bustling into the room with Thomas. 
 
 "Here he is ! here he is ! John Ruffin," exclaimed 
 Mrs. Peale. 
 
 "'And a happy lad he seems," added her good 
 man. 
 
 "O dear Father!" Thomas cried out, "I'm so, so 
 glad to see you and be home again." 
 
 "My child!" the Father exclaimed, embracing 
 his son. 
 
 "Here's a letter, Father, I brought from the vil 
 lage." 
 
 John Ruffin seizes the letter, tears it open, and 
 with an awful light in his eyes reads aloud : 
 
 "Thomas Sanford & Co. fail for over half mil 
 lion !" 
 
 "My son ! my son ! We've lost all and are beg 
 gars !" 
 
 "What!" Thomas blurted out, unable to take in 
 the situation, yet profoundly agitated by a sense of 
 something dreadful. 
 
 "We've lost Cloud Cap and all our fortune, my 
 child, and are beggars," faltered the Father. 
 
 "O Father!" cried Thomas, bursting into tears
 
 26 Thomas Ruffin. 
 
 and seizing his Father's hand, "never mind ! never 
 mind ! I can help you." 
 
 But the words are unheeded ; for John Ruffin 
 faints and falls into his son's supporting arms.
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 SELRACHTS' COLLEGE. 
 
 My earliest recollections are those of a beautiful 
 and happy Southern home. I mean particularly 
 our country home at Cloud Cap. I remember my 
 Mother's often telling me, when a child, I had soft, 
 wavy brown hair, and large, dark, tender eyes. 
 From the first my education received very careful 
 attention. My father superintended my Latin, him 
 self a classical scholar, and I had besides the best 
 tutors both in town and country. But in the late 
 Spring and early Autumn and all the Summer 
 through, I was free, I may say. I had a frail ap 
 pearance, and my Father encouraged in every way 
 the development of my physique. I had a fancy 
 for "chopping," and became an expert woodman. 
 My Father provided me with axe, maul, wedges, 
 and gluts, specially my own, and many a goodly 
 tree did I fell and cut and split and cord for Winter 
 fuel. 
 
 The foundation so laid for firm muscles and com 
 pact bones (though really I never looked strong) 
 proved of signal advantage in after years, when un 
 usual demands were made on endurance. What I
 
 28 Thomas Ruffin. 
 
 have since seen in books, I experienced in my own 
 person, that one of the two cardinal helps (the 
 other, a cheerful spirit) towards successful passage 
 through the world, is a sturdy frame, a body strong 
 to bear. 
 
 At seventeen I was tall and well taught, yet sin 
 gularly shy and reticent in the presence of strang 
 ers. The face of my fellow man, though in stormy 
 mood, I can now confront, I hope, with commenda 
 ble firmness. But at that time I was timid and 
 shrinking to a most painful degree due, as my 
 Father said, to having lived so entirely at home, 
 under tutors and with those always considerate and 
 tender ; and for rubbing out these wrinkles the ex 
 perience of a Boarding School he considered advisa 
 ble. That it was for the best -so I thought, too, to 
 whom he fully explained his reasons. Alas ! it 
 proved the beginning of sorrows. 
 
 Those there are, doubtless, for whom a Boarding 
 School process is desirable who come out smooth 
 and shiny. But others are rubbed raw. harmed 
 irrevocably. I warn the parents of oversensitive 
 children. Don' t attempt rubbing out the wrinkles 
 through an average Boarding School without having 
 gauged the child accurately. My Father had not 
 sounded my depths, or he would have been the last 
 on earth to send me among a lot of rough, vulgar, 
 unfeeling boys, to have my supersensitiveness 
 played upon and deeped into melancholia, which 
 would have become insanity, I veribly believe, had 
 not my stay at school been cut short suddenly.
 
 Thomas Ruffin. 29 
 
 But the dark side of Boarding School life was 
 now hidden. I saw only the other. All that my 
 Father said as to the advantages, I believed. I be 
 came interested in the preparations for departure. 
 As dearly as I loved my home, I took positive pleas 
 ure in seeing my abundant outfit packed away in a 
 stout leathern trunk. If a misgiving was expressed 
 now and then, they would reassure me, saying 
 4 'Selrachts" was not so far off, and should anything 
 happen they could at once reach me. 
 
 The last visit to L was to see the Sanfords. 
 
 Thomas Sanford was a man of character and of for 
 tune. As stated in the preceding chapter, he was 
 senior member of the New Orleans Cotton House of 
 Sanford & Co. He was my Mother's first cousin, 
 their mothers being sisters, and the closest intimacy 
 existed between the families. Cousin Thomas was 
 my god-father. I was his namesake, and a special 
 favorite. My reception on this particular occasion 
 was of the warmest kind. Good wishes were show 
 ered upon me. Cousin Thomas predicted scholarly 
 successes. Aunt Sanford a well-preserved matron 
 of the olden school, with an air of distinction, and 
 gracious winning manners gave appropriate coun 
 sels. From each I received a memento. But what 
 I valued most was a little token from my Cousin 
 Amy. 
 
 Amy Sanford was just one year my junior. We 
 had been play-mates from infancy, I may say, and 
 were great friends; yet till this hour I had not 
 known the strength of the bond. We made frequent
 
 30 Thomas Ruffin. 
 
 and extended visits to each other, and in the sum- 
 mertide especially Amy would often be at Cloud 
 Cap for days together. There was no daughter in 
 our family, nor son in the Sanford's, and we, in a 
 sense, respectively supplied the want. Amy had full, 
 bright-brown eyes, and a wealth of chestnut hair, 
 and had she been far less winsome, she would have 
 held still the key to popularity in the interest uni 
 formly manifested in the affairs of others. Into all 
 the amusements of my boyhood she entered with 
 zeal with far more than I did into her's; and among 
 the first things she did on each successive visit, was 
 to go the rounds with me to my partridge-traps and 
 hare-snares, and to see my dam and corn-stalk flut 
 ter-wheels down at the branch. 
 
 I speak of Amy, as she was in earlier days. With 
 increasing years the perfect freedom of childhood 
 had declined not from any untoward or hardening 
 influences, like those batterings and deceivings of 
 the world that transform ingenuous youth into 
 spirits oi suspicion and ill-will, withdrawing into 
 themselves, and coiled up serpent-like, to strike 
 aggressors. No, no. The process was altogether 
 natural. Amy was now in her 16th year, rapidly 
 expanding into rounded lines of even greater beauty. 
 She had passed into that period of life, when the 
 consciousness of sex, dawning on the pure in heart, 
 raises its barriers, and the merry-hearted, demon 
 strative girl of yore is inclined instinctively towards 
 shyness and reticence. Besides, habits of intimacy 
 had been affected necessarily by absence at a North-
 
 Thomas Ruffin. 31 
 
 ern School (a celebrated Quaker institution), where, 
 it can be added, her studies had been pursued with 
 eclat. My Father had recommended the school to 
 Cousin Thomas; and he himself knew it through his 
 Quaker friend, Mr. Peale, a prominent member of 
 the board of trustees. 
 
 Whatever the cause, the change was external and 
 no more. Our sentiments towards each other or 
 rather, my sentiments towards Amy, since I could 
 speak for myself alone had not altered, only deep 
 ened, and begun to assume a form, the true charac 
 ter of which I did not then altogether understand. 
 About one thing, however, there was no misappre 
 hension. My parting with Amy had more of pang 
 than with any of the others. On this occasion she 
 stood apart, the least demonstrative person in the 
 company. Yet her fine eyes shone with an expres 
 sion I often dwelt on afterwards; and as I kissed 
 her warm lips she placed in my hand a locket hold 
 ing a pressed Moss rosebud her favorite flower, 
 and from "our bush," she said the bush we had 
 planted away back and had long cultivated together. 
 
 Next day I was to leave, at 4 P. M. "Selrachts" 
 was not so far off. Yet I was not to go in our own 
 carriage, but in the public stage, and alone, thrown 
 at once on my own responsibilities. 
 
 That morning my Father took occasion to repeat 
 the counsels he had impressed upon me. On one 
 point he put special emphasis, as the first lesson 
 every boy should learn : The importance of moral 
 courage to bear ridicule. He pointed to examples
 
 32 Thomas Ruffin, 
 
 in his own school and college careers, where upright 
 youths had been self-ensnared from inability to face 
 a laugh. He knew, he said, for the first week or 
 two I would be dismally homesick, but that I must 
 bear up like a man that a happy faculty of adapta 
 tion had been given us that he felt sure my conduct 
 would win the esteem of my teachers and make 
 friends among the boys. He was sure, too, from the 
 training I had received and amount of ground gone 
 over, that I would make a commendable record in 
 my studies that the ambitions and rivalries and 
 triumphs of the class-room would rouse and interest 
 me that I would become engrossed in a new order 
 of ideas, and be soon, he doubted not, contentedly 
 fitted in to my surroundings. He would lay stress 
 on it, that, in sending me to this school, the pur 
 pose was to make me self-reliant, to give me tough 
 ness for brushing and pushing and rubbing through 
 the world in short, to make a man of me ; and 
 while, he knew, there would be hardnesses, to en 
 dure these hardnesses was the very end sought. 
 
 The parting hour was at hand. Preparations to 
 the last detail had been completed. The thought 
 of change, with hopeful possibilities, is exhilarat 
 ing, and in a state of happy excitement I took leave 
 of every body and every thing, animate and inani 
 mate, at and about Cloud Cap met the coach on 
 time and at 4 rumbled out of L. 
 
 Thoughts come and go, a thousand thoughts. I was 
 not unhappy. Rather otherwise. I soon found 
 myself watching the clouds. From the earliest re-
 
 TJiomas Ruffin. 33 
 
 collections this have I done with singular interest. 
 Probably, because my mother was wont to tell me, 
 that, in the divine economy, the angels have charge 
 of the winds and the clouds. I would watch and 
 watch them, and imagine personal form and move 
 ment. It was in the thirties, the 27th of Septem 
 ber, but a fine summer-like afternoon. A lively 
 breeze tempered the blazing sun. Bodies of cumu 
 lus summer-cloud floated lazily here and there, with 
 lower strata of smooth leaden hue, supporting massy 
 sunlit coils of dazzling whiteness, like radiant banks 
 of snow. I watched the clouds and fell into rev 
 eries. Time sped. It grew dark, and out of the 
 giant depths of the clear Heavens the stars shone 
 forth with unusual splendor. Still I was watching 
 the heavens and dreaming. At length drowsiness 
 drew on recoil from excitement. The coach's gen 
 tle jog over sandy roads aided the tendency. Pres 
 ently I slept, and soundly. 
 
 At 6 next morning we had breakfast at a famous 
 way-side inn, kept by one Mrs. Barclay. Here a 
 change of whip was made, and sixth change of 
 teams, and soon we were bowling along again. I 
 felt mannish and splendid. Noon dinner was taken 
 at another country inn, with another change of 
 teams. Two hours later, from a hill-crest, the spires 
 of Selrachts College were seen to the right above the 
 top of an intervening wood. Three-fourths of a 
 mile further on the stately fa9ade came full into view. 
 
 The edifice, fronting southward, occupied a slight 
 ly elevated site, two hundred yards from the road
 
 34 Thomas Ruffin. 
 
 the intervening area being set in grass, and adorned 
 with lawn trees and shrubbery and flowering plants 
 of various description. This area a winding carriage 
 way cut in twain. On either side of this way ran 
 the graveled walks. A space, northwest, level and 
 bare, made an ample play-ground. East of the 
 grounds, up to the main road, were the kitchen gar 
 dens. Southward, beyond the road, lay broad, well 
 cultivated fields. Westward stood a body of dark 
 forest. 
 
 The college was of stone, four stories high. A 
 main centre portion of sixty feet front, and stand 
 ing out from the long wings in massive piazzas 
 upheld by a succession of arches terminated later 
 ally in two short towers, surmounted by dumpy, 
 quadrilateral spires. 
 
 An. imposing pile. Its genius was an accom 
 plished German^ Wilhelm Von Selrachts. As Lam- 
 ertine has observed in his life of Fenelon, there are 
 two qualities in rare combination, but which must 
 coexist, to make a really great teacher, the power to 
 command, and the gift of pleasing. These in emi 
 nent degree Von Selrachts possessed, and had not 
 death cut short his career, his fame would have been 
 as broad as the country. 
 
 He received me with a winning air of benevolent 
 authority, adding certain pertinent observations, 
 suggested by what my Father had written him, I 
 am sure observations upon the peculiar trials before 
 me. Presently I was introduced to the Dominie 
 having immediate supervision of the boys with
 
 Thomas Ruffin. 35 
 
 wliom I was to be classed. His name was Du Big- 
 lau verily, a low, lean, little Frenchman, yet truly 
 big in amiable directions, the most sympathetic and 
 kindliest of men. 
 
 First impressions were not unfavorable, even good. 
 I ate supper in the spacious refectory and went to 
 bed with far less of homesickness than I had antici 
 pated. It was long before I could close my eyes. 
 For hours I lay wide awake in the great attic dor 
 mitory, with scores of sleeping boys about me. 
 There were throngs and throngs of thought. They 
 gathered mainly about the next Xtmastide. With 
 us and in our circle it had ever been a season of the 
 greatest gaiety. How bright would be the next ! I 
 would be at home ! And how improved ! How joy 
 fully would my dear Father and all greet me ! 
 Finally sleep came, and with it behold ! a dream: 
 It was the Xtmastide at home, and I stood by Amy's 
 side, cutting, as of your, cedar and holly twigs for 
 her nimble fingers to bind into wreaths for the 
 Xtmas altar. I awoke. Again I slept. Again I 
 dreamed yet less and less distinctly. Towards 
 morning I had passed into sound slumber, broken 
 by the early college bell. 
 
 I rose unref reshed. Excitements had passed away. 
 A lonely, helpless, despairing sort of feeling came 
 creeping over me ; nor did the incidents of the day 
 tend to dispel it. Unfortunately, at this juncture 
 the reputation of the college for discipline had 
 drawn thither an unusually large percentage of 
 rough, rude material. My experiences now began.
 
 36 Thomas Euffin. 
 
 It was a few moments past breakfast, in the recreation 
 room, when my teacher, calling me up, introduced 
 me to a lot of these fellows. Whereat I blushed 
 like a girl, averted my head, cast my eyes down, 
 and looked askance at the boys, in a timid sort of 
 way an old trick of mine with strangers. To beha 
 viour so unexpected and silly the natural response 
 was a burst of laughter. I drew back dreadfully 
 confused and mortified. The Dominie spoke up 
 kindly, accompanying me, as I retired, completely 
 downhearted, to the solitude of the study-hall. He 
 remained with me the rest of the hour, never allu 
 ding to the blunder, but seeking to divert my mind 
 by explaining, with an interplay of wit and anec 
 dote, the mode of teaching at the college, &c., &c. 
 
 The bell rang for recitation, and presently in the 
 class room I gave another "exhibition." It was the 
 weekly review in mental arithmetic. The questions 
 had been going round, simple questions, thought I 
 to myself, and getting many more misses than I 
 would have supposed when all at once the Dominie, 
 looking at me kindly, called my name and asked me 
 a question. I had not dreamed of such a thing. I 
 had been told it was not usual to be called up on 
 one's first appearance in class, and the peculiar cir 
 cumstances of my case made the call the more unex 
 pected. In this departure the Dominie was moved 
 by the best motive, as he afterwards explained to 
 me. At the matriculating examination the evening 
 before, he had asked, if not this identical question, 
 yet questions of precisely similar character, and I
 
 Tliomas Ruffin. 37 
 
 had given such ready answers, he felt sure I would 
 answer this, and acquit myself so creditably, as to 
 offset the impression make by the faux pas at the 
 introduction. 
 
 The question struck me like a thunderbolt. I 
 rose mechanically, my whole body visibly agitated, 
 my face pale as a ghost's, and, in tremulous voice, 
 asked a restatement of the question partly, to gain 
 time for reflection partly, because, in the confusion 
 overwhelming me, I had not in truth clearly appre 
 hended the Dominie's words. The latter realized my 
 predicament and put the question again, very slowly, 
 very clearly, very distinctly, giving at the same time 
 a smile of encouragement. All for naught. I had 
 enough intelligence left to see the Dominie's friendly 
 animus, and my inability to meet expectation aug 
 mented the confusion. I stood regarding him with 
 a stupid stare. I tried to think, but was totally 
 unable. I had not the least control over resources. 
 A sweat oozed from every pore. My agitation was 
 visibly increasing, when the Dominie, with expres 
 sion of distress at having unwittingly set a trap, 
 relieved the situation by answering the question for 
 me whereupon I shot back into my seat in a gush 
 of passionate tears. The boys responded with a 
 ripple of derisive laughter. This the Dominie in 
 stantly checked, and, saying I was not well, bade 
 me seek relief in the open air. 
 
 I went out, and beneath some dense, low-branched 
 cedars, which grew on the slope near the play-ground 
 of the smaller boys, threw myself down in agony of
 
 38 Thomas Ruffin. 
 
 spirit, supersensitive creature that I was. Vexed 
 with myself, mortified to the last degree, I made a 
 great vow. 
 
 By the noon recreation hour I was composed. 
 Immediately I sought the Dominie insisted upon 
 his plying me with questions at once told him I 
 had vowed to overcome this foolishness and that 
 such a discipline before the class would be a means. 
 
 He commended the resolution warned me with a 
 twinkle to be ready felt sure I would do well, 
 &c., &c. 
 
 The Dominie promptly redeemed the promise. 
 The questions began coming that very afternoon. I 
 had a mastery of the subjects, seeing the ground 
 had been covered under tutors. Answers were cor 
 rectly given, if timidly. With every recitation I 
 gathered confidence; and soon it became apparent 
 to the class I was the first scholar among them. 
 
 My proficiency delighted the Dominie, of course; 
 but won the pointed ill-will of three or four boys 
 whom I had thus turned down. They had been 
 standing abreast at head, and struggling against 
 each other for the medal. Ambitions now merged 
 into a common hostility towards me; and the Dominie 
 himself unwittingly supplied an engine of persecu 
 tion. The circumstances were these : 
 
 Within the week of my matriculation our class 
 received an addition in a tall, awkward," country 
 lad. The first day of his appearance at recitation 
 the usual question was put by the Dominie : 
 
 "What is your full name, Master Berryson?' ? he
 
 Thomas Ruffin. 39 
 
 asked, as, pencil and class-book in hand, lie made 
 ready for an entry. 
 
 "Benjamin Opedyke Berryson," replied the lad. 
 
 "Is Berryson spelled with a 'y' or an 'i' ?" 
 
 " We spell with a 'y,' " said the lad. 
 
 "Some spell it with an 'i,' then?" remarked the 
 Dominie, noticing the emphasis. 
 
 "Yes, Sir." 
 
 The Dominie wrote down the name, and, as he 
 completed it, spoke it to himself, slowly, disjunct 
 ively, and in*a musing way (B. O. Ber.-ry.-son), 
 scrutinizing the entry. Then suddenly looking up, 
 with humor dancing in his eye, remarked : 
 
 " T and 'y' often replace each other, Master 
 Berryson." 
 
 "Yes, Sir," the lad responded. 
 
 "And with this exchange did you ever reflect how 
 your name reads backwards?" 
 
 "No, Sir." 
 
 "In 'No, Sir,' you make a beginning," said the 
 Dominie with a broad smile, "since the back reading 
 is No- Sir-re-bob." 
 
 A roar of laughter followed. 
 
 'It's a habit of mine to read names backwards," 
 continued the Dominie, "and I make some funny 
 finds. A few sessions ago we had in the class Edward 
 C. Ivon E. C. Ivon a sharp, wide awake, city chap, 
 who knew a thing or two. Novice is the name 
 backwards." 
 
 Another roar greeted this. 
 
 "And then we had Eldridge L. Peets E. L.
 
 40 Thomas Ruffin. 
 
 Peets a dumpy, squat little fellow. The back 
 reading is steeple" 
 
 Another roar from the benches. 
 
 The incident at once aroused interest in reverse 
 renderings. Every name was turned about for a 
 find. To get a fling, those boys tried my own, who 
 thought they had a grudge against me. Without 
 avail, however, till the next day, when a remark let 
 fall by the Dominie came to their aid. He was ex 
 plaining the Greek alphabet. Speaking of gamma, 
 the letter answering to our "g," he remarked casu 
 ally, that its form (7) resembled somewhat the lower 
 half of the English "/." Forthwith these boys 
 tried my name with u g" replacing "/" and got a 
 skit on me in "niggur" pronounced by them 
 "neegur !" 
 
 As distinguished from epithets purposely insult 
 ing, mere nick-names originate in a certain degree of 
 congruity at least without it are scarcely maintain 
 ed. The ideas investing my own personel and "nig 
 gur" were absolutely opposed; for I was rather frail- 
 looking unusually clean and neat and at a glance 
 distinguished by a peculiar air of sensitiveness and 
 delicacy. The term was so utterly incongruous it 
 had no proper breath of life a nothing a reed 
 shaken by the wind a nine day's college fad; and 
 I should have extinguished its furtive indirect ut 
 terance by indifference. 
 
 The fates willed otherwise. I was so excessively 
 sensitive born without a skin, as Hume said of 
 Rousseau. I felt the fling profoundly, and winced
 
 Thomas Ruffin. 41 
 
 under it in such a way as to egg on the set of boys 
 I have spoken of. Scarcely, too, had they begun 
 using "niggur," when an incident gave the term 
 currency. That is, the Prefect came to my aid- 
 over the left. Having sharply threatened the flout, 
 he was prompt to punish the first man caught 
 offending. The punishment, indeed, was mild. But 
 the offender was popular, the offense one never be 
 fore punished, and being of a nature, too, the boys 
 considered unpunishable, they resented what they 
 thought uncalled for discipline, and "niggur" with 
 a vengeance came to stay. It would be bawled over 
 campus. I would see it on blackboard margins. 
 It would be spelled within my hearing. It was 
 thrust on me in class-room notes. Missives contain 
 ing it were found beneath my pillow. Letters sent 
 to L , to be mailed, had this single term "nig 
 gur." It was poked at me, in short, from every 
 quarter, and in almost every conceivable way. 
 
 I sank under the persecution. O what sense of 
 loneliness and helplessness ! One or two of the 
 better disposed boys made advances from pity, I 
 suppose. My pride rejected them. Earnestly did 
 the teachers try to check the grievance, and bring 
 me into harmony with the college. In vain. Heart 
 sick, I could not rally. True, "niggur" soon died 
 out. But it had made its deep, isolating impression. 
 I shrank from any contact, and conceived a pro 
 found aversion towards everything around me. I 
 had no share in the sports. All my recreations 
 were solitary. The Indian clubs I swung alone. If
 
 42 TJiomas Ruffin. 
 
 I played ball, the ball was my own, and the walls 
 my companions. I wore a hunted, strained expres 
 sion. I would start at little noises, and fly into 
 pieces on every occasion. The slightest provoca 
 tion, the least annoyance from the boys, would 
 bring forth outbursts of passion. In a word : my 
 temper was transformed. My life was a life apart. 
 Perfect wretchedness is for the damned alone. 
 There were offsets, or I should have lost my mind. 
 One was anticipation of the Xtmastide, when I 
 would be at home my dear, dear, happy home. 
 In a letter of this period (a preserved copy is now 
 before me) I tell my Father that "almost one-fourth 
 of the time to Xtmas has gone by already, and only 
 three-fourths more." One-fourth gone and only 
 three-fourtJis more ! What pathetic simplicity ! 
 What yearning between the lines ! I found myself 
 continually turning eastward and looking out to 
 wards my home. Whenever I could, I would take 
 a winding walk to the road entrance. Just within 
 stood a giant Spanish oak. Selrachts' was an ele 
 vated site. This, its highest point, whence to the 
 east opened a clear and extended view. A seat en 
 circled the oak, and here I would sit alone, and look 
 out towards my home. Eastward lay a succession of 
 cultivated fields. Beyond and beyond in perspective 
 rose the hills while yet beyond, in the far smoky 
 distance, the outline of the forest summit was 
 thrown upon the horizon. This summit seemed to 
 me the point of division between the dismal region 
 in which I pined a captive, and a fair region be-
 
 Thomas Ruffin. 43 
 
 yond, where my home was and my friends. Wjiat 
 longing eyes were bent eastward ! What thoughts 
 arose of "home again!" I envied the wayfarers 
 eastward, as I caught sight of them on the higher 
 points of the white road-way, that here and there 
 reappeared in its hilly course. O for the day and 
 the hour, I would inwardly exclaim, when this gate 
 would close behind me homeward bound ! And 
 great choky lumps would swell in my throat. 
 
 Another offset was my self-communings, of nights, 
 in my dormitory cot. The dormitories occupied the 
 fourth story. In the centre of this story was a large 
 hall, sixty feet by fifty, used for theatricals and like 
 purposes. On either side were the domitory attics, 
 each forty by fifty feet, and eight feet high centrally. 
 Great dormer windows admitted light through the 
 sloping ceilings. I slept in the room next the mid 
 dle hall in the east end. My bed stood nearest the 
 short passage joining the two dormitories on this 
 side, and almost immediately beneath the internal 
 window connected with a small partitioned- off apa.rt- 
 ment, in which the teacher slept who had charge of 
 this room, and whence, as occasion required; he 
 could look out upon the boys. 
 
 At nine, when lights were out and I under cover, 
 began one of the happiest I mean, least unhappy - 
 portions of the twenty-four hours. The worriments 
 of the day were over. All so calm and peaceful. 
 None to molest or make me afraid. My tormentors, 
 bound in slumbers, lay still and harmless around 
 me. I was free from persecution, and, what was
 
 44 Thomas Ruffin. 
 
 even more, its apprehension. It was this apprehen 
 sion that specially affected me. So sensitive was I 
 to annoyance, that the dread of it kept me all the 
 day long excited more or less and bewildered. 
 
 What peace of mind I had this still, dark hour 
 gave. It became my prayer hour. It drew to itself 
 my devotions, and almost invariably brought tears 
 that refreshed, really gladdened me. These devo 
 tions were the simple prayers of infancy, taught me 
 by my mother. The central feature (I mean, in my 
 own mind) was the superintendence of angels a 
 feature the cuts in the "big ha' Bible" had great 
 share in shaping. It was an heir-loom, this Bible, 
 an ancient book, with borders embellished generally 
 in vignette, in some instances filled in with Hol 
 bein's Dance of Death, and the prints throughout 
 were copious in angel representation. The volume 
 was lost in the subsequent wreck. But I can see 
 these prints now, every one of them, and vividly 
 the Angel comforting Hagar, the Angel and Manoah, 
 the Angel appearing to Gideon, the Angel of the 
 Lord smiting the Assyrian hosts, the Angel speak 
 ing to Zacharias at the altar of Incense, &c. &c. Of 
 Sunday afternoons, in her low sweet voice, my 
 mother would read passages she thought I might 
 understand, and explain to me the prints. And of 
 evenings, after the prayer at her knee had been said 
 and I was tucked away in my little bed, she would 
 recall these prints, and make use of them to illus 
 trate beautiful stories about the Angels our own 
 guardian Angel specially, how near this guardian
 
 Thomas Ruffin. 45 
 
 is, and how dear he should be to us. It delighted 
 me to hear them. Often have I lain awake dwell 
 ing on them, when my mother supposed I was fast 
 in slumbers, and I would fall asleep encircled by 
 their sweet influences. 
 
 On a supersensitive spirit all this made a profound 
 impression. Angel superintendence early became 
 central in my spiritual consciousness. 
 
 With advancing years and after my mother's death 
 the impression began to wax dim. It was now all 
 vividly recalled. My head would be under cover, 
 eyes closed, lids repeatedly forced firmly together, 
 to press out welling tears physically I was in dense 
 darkness, yet a great and a burning light seemed 
 round about me, and protecting Angels appeared 
 moving in it. Had I thrown the cover, my eyes 
 would have opened on a heavenly radiance so it 
 seemed to me. With many weepings I said my 
 prayers over and over. I wept, but I was really 
 happy. It was a tender, sweet hour. All my 
 thoughts were gentle and loving. I felt severe 
 towards myself alone. I forgave the wrongs against 
 me. I put all blame on my own silly weaknesses. 
 In a state of mind positively ecstatic, I prayed 
 for my tormentors, that they might bear another 
 mind towards me and to the Angels, always to be 
 about me, protecting me and fondly believed my 
 surroundings would improve next day ; and in this 
 hope at length would pass into sleep peaceful, pro 
 found sleep, yet dreamy at first and confused with 
 home glimpses and school glimpses and glimpses of 
 Angels.
 
 46 Thomas Ruffin. 
 
 Woe is me ! I awoke upon a world whose king is 
 Sorrow. This next day was like those before it. 
 My tormentors were at me again. I grew hard and 
 bitter again. Dark clouds hung over me again. 
 
 Meanwhile Yon Selrachts had a watchful and kind 
 eye. He spoke often and encouragingly. His keen 
 perception must have recognized in my personality 
 something altogether exceptional; for, towards the 
 end of the first month he intimated a visit home, 
 adding that he would write my Father, should I say 
 so. I replied declaring my wish and purpose to 
 make further trial dying to return, yet unwilling 
 to distress my Father, and piqued, withal, that my 
 weak, troubled heart should be so bare. 
 
 But matters grew worse and worse. There was a 
 spell I could not break. I felt, too, my powers of 
 application giving way. Dazed, deadened feelings 
 began creeping over me. I feared the worst, and 
 was on the point of seeking Von Selrachts, to accept 
 his suggestion, when came a letter from my Father 
 calling me home. Von Selrachts had kept him fully 
 informed, I am sure, and my Father saw I must 
 leave. 
 
 What transforming power in the suddent advent 
 of a great and unexpected deliverance ! A torrent 
 of delight sweep into and purges the soul. Hates, 
 venoms, are no more expelled through complete 
 occupancy by an opj)osing sentiment. In a delirium 
 of joy enemies are embraced, deepest wrongs forgiv 
 en. It is human nature's summit for the moment, 
 pure spiritual existence a glimpse of Heaven itself.
 
 Thomas Ruffin. 47 
 
 where the saints are perfectly good, because they 
 are perfectly happy. As I read the letter a horrid 
 veil fell from before my eyes. The weight on my 
 spirit was gone. A flood of light and joy rolled in. 
 The darkened, disfigured world became fair again. 
 I was transformed, intoxicated, and loved everybody 
 and every thing around me. The sun shone brighter. 
 The birds sang sweeter. The flowers took on another 
 beauty. I mingled with the boys, and greeted them 
 all with smiling confidence. And all the boys, 
 astonished and gratified, seemed turned towards me. 
 I had made no real enemies thanks to my solitary 
 ways. And when I threw off reserve under the im 
 pulse of a powerful sentiment, and extended an 
 open hand, the boys met me more than half way. 
 Some, perchance, that a rival would be removed. 
 Some, it may be, to make amends for wrongs. 
 Others, from the grace of human nature, since hap 
 piness is catching, an echo from those remnants of 
 pure charity still enshrined within the stranded 
 soul. The revolution in my feelings was so com 
 plete, that the old college positively seemed dear, 
 and the probability of return even began to take 
 form. 
 
 Early next morning I jumped into the stage; the 
 
 morning after, rolled into L to a joyful wind 
 
 from the driver's horn; and with bounding heart 
 sped on with Cupid to Cloud Cap alas ! to receive 
 into my arms a stricken Father.
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 THE OLD MEN'S HOME. 
 
 John Ruffin's swoon excited the liveliest sympa 
 thy, and for the moment the ai>palling character of 
 the loss he had sustained, was forgotten in anxiety 
 for his personal safety. To apply the smelling 
 bottle and dash water into his face, was the work of 
 an instant. There was no rally, however; and they 
 began to think the case serious. A correct opinion; 
 for in falling his head had struck violently the edge 
 of the seat of a solid mahogany chair, causing severe 
 cerebral concussion. He lay profoundly insensible, 
 extremities cold, features ghastly, scarcely breath 
 ing. Mrs. Peale took charge, and, directing that 
 the nearest Doctor be sent for post haste, promptly, 
 ax^plied the simple remedies her good sense and 
 practical experience suggested she being an active 
 member of more than one charitable institution, and 
 having had occasion to minister in attacks of this 
 kind. Friction by hand over thorax and upper 
 limbs, cataplasm to abdomen, sinapisms to calves, 
 with hot mustard bottles to feet, presently brought 
 on some reaction. Consciousness returned, and the
 
 TJiomas Ruffin. 49 
 
 patient was assisted to his room. But the hothead, 
 white tongue, and flushed turgid face were not reas 
 suring. By this time a neighbor Doctor had arrived. 
 He was soon joined by the family physician from 
 L . Putting their wise heads together they diag 
 nosed a probable encephalitis prognonis grave. 
 Whereby the laity may understand that Mr. Ruffin 
 was threatened with brain fever, and recovery in 
 doubt. The M. D.'s were not mistaken. Inflamma 
 tory symptoms, of aggravated type, supervened 
 apace intense pain over the head, fierce delirium, 
 pupils like -pins' heads, wild and brilliant look, and 
 a hard pulse rapidly shifting from 60 to 120. 
 
 The old time heroics are administered blood let 
 ting and hard purging with croton oil, leeches to 
 temples and mastoid processes following the lancet. 
 That John Ruffin survived was probably due to appli 
 cation of fresh water to the shaved head in the form 
 of a slender and constant stream upon the vertex. 
 
 On the third day the stage of collapse set in, with 
 pallor, feeble and flying pulse, muttering stupor, 
 and extreme debility. The physicians watch by the 
 hour. Caps of blistering plaster are now applied to 
 the head, and stimulants and restoratives exhibited. 
 
 From the acute attack John Ruffin made a slow 
 recovery, extending through months. With the 
 return of consciousness the sense of his loss was 
 overwhelming, and critical relapses occurred. Al 
 most invariably they were associated with the pres 
 ence of his son, on whom he would fasten his eyes 
 in the most pitiful way and in tears bewail his con-
 
 50 Thomas Ruffin. 
 
 dition. So unhappy was the effect that for a period 
 Thomas was compelled to deny himself to his 
 Father's room, save when he slept. 
 
 At this juncture the most salutary attentions were 
 
 those of the Episcopal Minister at L , a wise and 
 
 devout man. At the earliest practicable moment he 
 was admitted by direction of the physician, who saw 
 that the patient's suffering and danger were now 
 mainly in mental and spiritual spheres, and more 
 directly within reach of one skilled in the science of 
 the soul. And when John Ruffin railed at the 
 Divine wrath against him, himself done for, and his 
 son of tender years stripped utterly bare, the pastor 
 would reply, that God's judgments are rather to be 
 feared, not discussed that after all the' event might 
 be for his son's benefit that inherited fortunes have 
 so often proven fatal to youth, at once a temptation, 
 and bar to development that Thomas would now 
 stand on his own feet, with every incentive to throw 
 the scabbord away that adverse circumstances 
 would tend to strengthen his character and draw 
 forth his full worth and that the son might yet 
 provide for the Father even better than the Father 
 had thought to provide for the son. 
 
 Conversations in this strain at repeated visitations 
 exerted a soothing tendency. If not reconciled, 
 John Ruffin became somewhat less despairing, and 
 gradually bore his grief with fewer outbreaks. But 
 cruel had been the blow, and the close of the third 
 month saw'him 'a physical and mental wreck, aged 
 and changed beyond the recognition of his nearest
 
 Thomas Ruffin. 51 
 
 friends, tlis hair and beard, grown long, were of 
 snowy whiteness his face blanched frame bent- 
 sight, hearing, memory impaired intellect perma 
 nently weakened. The expression was one of child 
 ish imbecility daft, as the Scotch would say. 
 
 Meanwhile, the Peales had gone Friend Peale, 
 a few days subsequent to the attack, called home by 
 business necessities Mrs. Peale, several weeks later, 
 when the violence of the attack was over during 
 which she had been a most assiduous and a most 
 efficient nurse. 
 
 The Sanfords, also, had all hurriedly left for New 
 Orleans, almost immediately after the failure to 
 live there, it was said. They had sent repeated and 
 most tender messages. Had all called, too; but saw 
 none of the family. John Ruffin was denied abso 
 lutely to every one, save the nurse; and Thomas 
 could not find it in his heart to meet those criminally 
 responsible, as he thought at that moment, for his 
 Father's ruin. On the eve of departure a heart 
 broken note came from Amy, saying they, likewise, 
 had lost everything that her Father was not to 
 blame, having been deceived by the Manager and 
 bidding Thomas adieu. It smote him, then, that he 
 had refused to see her. This note came in an envel 
 ope (a novelty in those days), square and of pinkish 
 hue, and with a monagram formed by A S stamped 
 upon the flap. 
 
 It was true, as Amy said. The Sanfords had 
 nothing left but a New Orleans residence, owned by 
 "Aunt Sanford." Later on, Thomas learned indi-
 
 52 Thomas Ruffin. 
 
 rectly that his Cousin Thomas had died grief-strick 
 en, and that Amy, her health failing in New Orleans, 
 had obtained a position of some kind somewhere up 
 North. 
 
 John Ruffin's deplorable condition dragged on 
 through Spring and Summer, and gradually grew 
 worse. The surroundings were a source of constant 
 irritation. He had been an exceptionally kind 
 Master. Between himself and the slaves existed a 
 sincere and strong attachment; and when he would 
 walk out, their manifestations of sympathy, signifi 
 cant though mute (for they had been forbidden to 
 express them), deeply and harmfully affected him. 
 Withal, he became morbidly ' sensitive to being 
 recognized as having fallen so low, and conceived a 
 violent aversion towards his friends and all who had 
 known him. So the old man shut himself up in his 
 room saw scarcely any one but Thomas and 
 appeared verging upon a settled melancholia. The 
 only thought which seemed to soothe, was one sug 
 gested by the pastor, that it was divinely ordered 
 Thomas should provide for him. The physicians 
 gave no hope of complete restoration under any cir 
 cumstances; but thought an absolute change of 
 residence new faces, new scenes might possibly 
 arrest progress towards an aggravated dementia, 
 and prolong a helpless, harmless, and measurably 
 happy life. 
 
 Poor Thomas ! What days and weeks long, 
 long, weary weeks of watchings and hopings and 
 sufferings ! The loss or fortune did not so deeply
 
 TJiomas Ruffin. 53 
 
 touch him lie knew not then what it was to turn 
 his back upon .Cloud Cap but his Father's personal 
 condition. A moving spectacle is that a strong, 
 flourishing man suddenly withered and laid low! 
 How much more, when the victim is a Father worthily 
 and tenderly loved ! The trustful way in which the 
 old man put himself under his care went straight to 
 Thomas' heart, and he made a solemn compact with 
 himself then and there, to give his Father the chance 
 the physicians held out. But, poor fellow ! how 
 dismal the prospect, now that acute excitements 
 were over, and the cold facts of the situation stood 
 out clear ! Void of money or what money buys, the 
 wheels of existence will absolutely cease to move; 
 and out of an opulent fortune but five hundred dollars 
 remained, a sum the exemption law allowed. Save 
 some far off collaterals, too, between whom and 
 himself intercourse had practically ceased, John 
 Ruffin was the last representative of his house. His 
 wife was from a distant state, where her family had 
 become reduced. None there were on whom Thomas 
 had any right to call for aid. He himself had no 
 experience of men or things. In the brass or assur 
 ance many esteem the best business current coin, he 
 was singularly deficient, as already shown. His 
 entire commercial capital stood in good penmanship 
 and a complete theoretical knowledge of book 
 keeping the latter a branch of study he had pur 
 sued with penchant both under tutors and at Sel- 
 rachts. A slim stock, truly, to challenge fortune 
 with. Into his scale, however, can be thrown a pure
 
 54 Thomas Ruffin. 
 
 heart, and a high and a holy aim, and an impulse 
 towards that broadening of character which the 
 advent of responsibility tends to evolve. 
 
 John Ruffin's awful visitation, so sudden and 
 complete, was on every one's tongue, and roused 
 profound sympathy. The pastor an'd other friends 
 busied themselves in his behalf ; and it was their 
 unanimous opinion, that a suitable home could be 
 found only in some one of the many well-conducted 
 charitable institutions in the large cities. They ad 
 vised Thomas forthwith to institute inquiries ; and 
 he was revolving the matter, when came a letter of 
 sympathy from Friend Peale (himself or his wife 
 wrote, regularly every week or two), containing a 
 suggestion in line with the above advice. How op 
 portune, thought Thomas ! He's the proper person 
 to address touching a home for my Father indeed, 
 the very person himself. 
 
 So that day he wrote Friend Peale, adding inqui 
 ries touching work of some sort for himself. In the 
 kindest of letters Friend Peale replied by the next 
 post, inclosing the last annual report on "The Old 
 Men's Home." He described the institution as being 
 under the control of prominent citizens, and one of 
 the best of its kind, that he himself was a trustee 
 and his wife an active manager, and that his Father 
 would receive every attention ; and further assured 
 Thomas that he would be only too glad to do any 
 thing he could to secure for him a position, in the 
 event of his becoming a fellow-citizen. 
 
 The general character of the report the rigid
 
 Thomas Ruffin. 55 
 
 conditions of admission the restrictions thrown 
 around those admitted and evident high-tone of the 
 institution all impressed Thomas favorably. The 
 crowning recommendation was to see the names 
 of Adam Peale and Martha Peale actually down in 
 black and white in the list of trustees and managers. 
 The admission fee two hundred dollars for those 
 .between 60 and 65 (his father had just turned 60), 
 with an additional one hundred dollars, when the 
 applicant resided in another state nearly consumed 
 their little remnant of five hundred. However, 
 Thomas thought he could surely get work of some 
 sort for himself, and decided at once it was the very 
 place for his Father. 
 
 Eagerly seeking the latter and opening the mat 
 ter, his anticipations were checked by his Father's 
 violently objecting to being in an institution to 
 which Friend Peale stood related, or even in the 
 same city with him. But Thomas reasoned with 
 his Father assuring him he would never meet 
 either Friend Peale or his wife against his will- 
 that the change was absolutely necessary that the 
 physicians ordered it that he must consent and 
 finally the old man became reconciled, submit 
 ting to his son, as called to provide for him. So 
 Thomas wrote Friend Peale he would be on within 
 a few days, to confer with him. 
 
 Meanwhile, by order of the trustees the Court had 
 appointed, Cloud Cap had been sold under the ham 
 mer. The purchaser was a Mr. Kyle, New Orleans 
 merchant and large creditor of Thomas Sanford & Co.
 
 66 Thomas Ruffin. 
 
 He bought all plantation, slaves, and personal 
 property; and so quietly was the auction conducted 
 - to avoid harmful effects on John Ruffin that the 
 latter knew nothing of what was being done. Mr. 
 Kyle, a kind-hearted gentleman and acquaintance of 
 John Ruffin, was so moved by the latter' s misfor 
 tunes, that he voluntarily proposed to delay formal 
 possession and let everything go on just as usual 
 under the manager, until definite and final arrange 
 ments touching John Ruffin' s future should be made. 
 
 It was the 16th of September, when Thomas left 
 with the testimonials, &c., required by the terms of 
 admission to The Home. Taking the steamboat at 
 
 L he was transferred to a coast line sail at the 
 
 seaport near the river's mouth, and reached the city 
 without event. A hackman was called, street and 
 number given, and he was driven to the Peale resi 
 dence. Friend Peale was absent at Boston on 
 business. Mrs. Peale received him with the warmest 
 demonstrations. Stay was limited ; since no one 
 could take his place with his Father. After brief 
 rest, therefore, Mrs. Peale accompanied him to The 
 Home. 
 
 The Old Men's Home was a noble charity, one of 
 the glories of the city, and under a name somewhat 
 changed flourishes to-day. Its affairs were guided 
 by a body of trustees, exclusively men, and a board 
 of managers, exclusively women all representative 
 citizens. The practical administration was entirely 
 in the hands of the ladies, who filled the offices from 
 president down ; and the work in its various forms
 
 Thomas Ruffm. 57 
 
 admissions and dismissals, purchasing supplies, 
 soliciting aid, providing entertainment, &c., &c. 
 was portioned out among committees chosen from 
 the board of lady managers. 
 
 The building occupied an uptown corner lot by 
 itself a large rectangular, yellow brick structure. 
 Eastward it aligned with the street. It fronted 
 southward, and from the east and west street stood 
 back fifteen or more yards. It was built about a 
 rotunda with hip roof and sky light. The ground 
 floor of this rotunda made a general sitting room, at 
 whose upper end stood a plain reading stand and 
 parlor organ for religious and like purposes. Galle 
 ries ran around the second and third stories, and 
 upon these galleries the rooms of the inmates 
 opened. A handsomely furnished apartment on the 
 first floor, was the committee room. Back 1 , were the 
 kitchen and dining hall. Entrance to the sitting 
 room was through a spacious vestibule. The faade 
 was relieved by a brick wall built out from the cen 
 tral portion of the structure, and terminating in an 
 ornamental gable. From this wall a brick portico 
 projected, with arched openings in the three sides, 
 and battlement roof. The area in front was beauti 
 fully set in grass and shrubbery. Diagonally oppo 
 site lay a lovely little park. Fine churches and the 
 mansions of the wealthy adorned on every hand this 
 elevation, and altogether it was a locality specially 
 attractive. 
 
 With its kindred institution The Old Women's 
 Home, in another section of the city The Old Men's
 
 58 Thomas Ruffin. 
 
 Home met a special want. Found everywhere are 
 the ag6d, the indigent, the helpless, who have seen 
 better days too proud to beg, too refined and sen 
 sitive to mingle with occupants of the ordinary alms 
 house. Among these The Home found its patronage. 
 The strict scrutiny touching both admission and the 
 admitted, guaranteed, as a class, high grade inmates. 
 
 They made an interesting study, these inmates. 
 Life with some had been uneventful with others 
 most varied and most tragic. All were nearing its 
 close, helpless and alone. The props had been knock 
 ed from under. Riches had made for itself wings. 
 Tender ties had been ruptured. Loving firesides 
 become a memory. Friends and kindred had gone 
 early, or children taken before their time. The hand 
 that would have toiled, the voice to cheer and com 
 fort, had long been still and silent in the grave. 
 How despairing their lot but for "that most excel 
 lent gift of charity!" In The Home they had a 
 meet resting place, ministered-to by woman's sooth 
 ing care. Here they found peace often-times hap 
 piness. Reader, sudden and profound are life's 
 vicissitudes. Its one certainty is its uncertainty. 
 Thou thyself mayest one day need such a refuge 
 or that dear child upon thy knee, may need it. Let 
 us commend the noble charity to thy benevolence. 
 
 If Thomas was pleased with every thing he saw, 
 pleasure sprang into joy, when, through Mrs. Peale's 
 influence, special accommodations were secured for 
 his Father. John RufiTu's mental state and need of 
 his son's care really disqualified him for admittance.
 
 Thomas Ruffin. 59 
 
 But Mrs. Peale was a foremost member of the board. 
 She represented that no doubt John Ruffin would 
 soon so improve at The Home, as to dispense with 
 the services of Thomas, and drew a picture of the 
 old man's multiplied affliction, that went to the 
 hearts of the managers. There is, too, a remote pos 
 sibility that Friend Peale' s liberal yearly contribu 
 tion and the policy of not displeasing him, had some 
 weight. So it was arranged that John Ruffin should 
 have a commodious first floor east room, with private 
 entrance to the street that for the present at least, 
 fn his peculiar state of mind, meals should be 
 served in his room and that Thomas be allowed 
 temporarily to occupy the room of nights, at a small 
 extra charge. 
 
 On their way back Thomas represented that his 
 Father necessarily would have some needs beyond 
 the accommodations of The Home that the admit 
 tance fee would take more than half of the remnant 
 of fortune remaining and that of course he could 
 not think of bringing his Father on, unless he him 
 self had work for his own support, &c. Mrs. Peale 
 suggested that he might answer an advertisement; 
 and, taking up the morning paper t>n reaching home, 
 read in the "Help wanted" column : "A bank 
 bookkeer at 222 North G- - St." She knew little 
 about that part of the street, she said thought it 
 was respectable a recommendation was its being 
 not very far from The Home and proposed that 
 Thomas call and inquire adding, that at any rate 
 'twould do no harm. So a passing 'bus was hailed,
 
 60 Thomas Ruffin. 
 
 and within twenty minutes, Thomas, accompanied 
 by a servant, alighted at 222 North G - St. 
 
 He read over the door way, "Loan Office." What 
 struck him was the symbol surmounting the sign 
 one whose significance he did not then understand 
 that of three golden balls. A symbol, be it 
 known, which the first United States pawnbrokers 
 brought over from England, as the first English 
 pawnbrokers had brought from Lombardy in the 
 sixteenth century, as the coat of arms of their 
 family. For these pawnbrokers we're related to the 
 then rising house of the Medici originally medical 
 men, as the name imports, or rather apothecaries 
 afterwards renowned for the extraordinary number 
 of statesmen it produced, and its magnificent patron 
 age of literature and art, and by legislative enact 
 ment had already been allowed to bear as coat of 
 arms the golden balls that advertised the pills of 
 their ancestors.
 
 CHAPTER .IV. 
 
 THE PAWNBROKER. 
 
 The chief owner and managing head of this estab 
 lishment (the Loan Office mentioned in the preceding 
 chapter), was Isaac Dalguspin, commonly and 
 jocosely called the Banker, as the not unfrequent 
 source of forced loans even to respectable parties in 
 a pinch. Recently, he had purchased the charter 
 privileges of a company composed of benevolent 
 gentlemen, who had attempted to establish a form of 
 the Mont de Piete a movement made in the interest 
 of the poor. Pawnbrokerage in the United States, 
 then, as now, was modeled closely on that in Eng- 
 gland, with loose methods and under social ban. 
 It's a pity; for the pawn-shop holds a legitimate 
 place in the body politic. It meets a necessary 
 social want properly conducted, js a form of benev 
 olence. There are crises, when the poor man is 
 sorely pressed for a little money when he must 
 have it, to tide over the exigency, or ruin breaks 
 upon himself and family. His sole recourse is the 
 sign of the three balls, which supplies a peculiar 
 class of borrowing facilities. The pawn-shop is the 
 needy man's Bank.
 
 62 Thomas Ruffin. 
 
 But through the operation of unworthy laws in 
 unworthy hands, the pawner is skinned in the trans 
 action. The pawn-broker's cupidity is devouring, 
 with his four to six per cent, a month, and expenses. 
 In France and on the continent of Europe generally, 
 it is otherwise. The Mont de Piete prevails. This 
 institution originated in the fifteenth century in 
 the pious invectives of Francisco di Viterbo. Out 
 raged at the merciless exactions of the usurers 
 that third power of the middle ages which shared 
 sovereignty with the church and the state, and 
 which Scott has represented in Isaac of York this 
 barefooted Minorite Friar strode into the market 
 place of Padua, among the tables of the money 
 changers, and thundered out his anathemas. The 
 result resembled that, when the Master Himself 
 purged the Temple. The usurers grabbed their 
 bags and slunk off. The people prolonged the cry. 
 Wealthy and benevolent citizens took up the cause 
 of the poor, and a Mont de Piete was established, 
 with a low interest rate (to cover necessary ex 
 penses) for money advanced on the pawner' s 
 pledge. Patronized by the church, encouraged 
 by the state, the institution rapidly spread, save 
 in England, so slow to innovate. 
 
 The Mont de Piete eventually lost its purely pious 
 character. In France, Italy, and elsewhere on the 
 Continent, it is now supported by the funds of the 
 state, and operated under public control. Still, as 
 a vast improvement on the methods of the usurer, 
 as the deadly foe of the old pawn-broker, the insti-
 
 Thomas Ruffin. 63 
 
 tution is essentially charitable. It is thoroughly 
 respectable, too. Transactions with it are totally 
 devoid of furtive features, as much so as entering 
 a bank to have a note changed. Its patrons, for the 
 most part, are the very poor, as may be supposed. 
 Yet men of substance and character, temporarily 
 pressed, do not disdain openly to seek its aid ; and 
 ladies of high life not unfrequently find it conveni 
 ent. As Summer approaches, they will pawn their 
 fine furs and other winter wear use the money to 
 swell the outing fund and in the Fall receive back 
 their valuables, minus the sum advanced and a 
 trifling interest, as well as the ravage of the moth. 
 In the year 1829, as the municipal records show, 
 a Company of charitably disposed gentlemen intro 
 duced into the city we have spoken of, the Mont de 
 Piete, under the name of "The Lombard Associa 
 tion." It continued for a few years. Then wound 
 up. Did not pay. "Lombard" was a handicap. 
 The odor of the pawn shop hung around it repul 
 sively. The Charter, by terms, was transferable, 
 and Dalguspin & Co bought its privileges,; with 
 right to change the name to "Loan Office." There 
 was a provision in the Charter ( it had not been 
 utilized ) for operating a Savings Bank in connec 
 tion with pawn-brokerage. This Dalguspin put 
 in force, doing business at the old stand. He 
 partitioned off a section of the spacious pawn-shop 
 and fitted it up handsomely, with street entrance, 
 and a sign : "The Wage Earners' Savings Bank." A 
 number of considerations led to the purchase. The
 
 64 Thomas Ruffm. 
 
 discussion connected witli the establishment and 
 operation of "The Lombard Association" had raised 
 a hue and cry against pawn-brokers, and it was sur 
 mised the City Council would overhaul the whole 
 business, lower percentage, arid draw tighter the 
 restrictions. Furthermore, Dalguspin thought he 
 saw in any event better profits in the change. 
 
 So far, apparently, events had justified the fore 
 cast. Dalguspin nowadays seemed unusually flush. 
 He had made money already at the old business ; 
 for our cities are rich fields for such fellows. The 
 characteristics of American society fast feverish 
 features, fondness for finery, fickle fluctuating for 
 tunes all tend powerfully to fill the shelves of the 
 pawn-broker. But the recent boom's bottom was 
 supposed to be connected with the Savings Bank, 
 this being the only visible change in his business, 
 to account for the sudden and marked change in 
 circumstances. The deposits ranged from one to 
 five hundred dollars, and therefor five per cent, 
 certificates at twelve months would be given, the 
 depositors generally being small tradesmen who 
 preferred these certificates to temporary investment 
 in real estate or the public funds. The true source, 
 however, of Dalguspin' s being in so full feather, 
 was successful gambling, into which he had been 
 drawn by a crony, with whom he was strangely in 
 fatuated, and of whom the reader will hear again, 
 one James Noals. 
 
 With the increase of fortune unlocked for changes 
 developed in Dalguspin' s bearing and surroundings;
 
 Thomas Ruffin. 65 
 
 for he ax>peared spruced up, affected to be somebody, 
 and to the surprise of all who knew him, had bought 
 a mansion, though a bachelor, and supported a style. 
 The purchase, it may be added, was a profitable 
 investment, or probably it would not have been 
 made; though Dalguspin was a real Banker now in 
 some sort of sense, and knew no doubt the commer 
 cial value of environments. 
 
 Thomas looked again at the slip he had cut from 
 the newspaper, to be sure of the number, and en 
 tered. A clerk behind the main counter was engaged 
 with one or two shop girls and domestics. It was a 
 large, square, dingy, forbidding looking room, with 
 a very stale odor. A broad screen stood within, 
 immediately before the door-way. Back of the 
 front counter was a great iron safe. All round the 
 room, up to the ceiling, ran series of shelves, in 
 compartments, and more or less filled with packages. 
 Cards here and there hung upon the walls, in con 
 spicuous print, and cautionary : "All transactions 
 strictly private in this office" "No goods taken 
 from minors, without express consent of parents or 
 guardians" "If ticket should be lost, party must 
 give bond and security for redemption of goods, &c., 
 &c." Odd looking Bank, thought Thomas to him 
 self. By this time, too, its stale odor began to take 
 effect, and he felt a chill creeping over him. His 
 turn having how come, he replied to the hard feat 
 ured clerk, saying he had called in answer to the 
 advertisement, and showed the slip. The clerk 
 glanced again at him then disappeared by a side
 
 66 Thomas Ruffin. 
 
 door by which door, a moment later, Dalgnspin 
 shuffled in. 
 
 Thomas drew back in astonishment, so different 
 was Dalguspin from the person he had pictured to 
 himself, as having advertised for a Bank book 
 keeper. His complexion was the swarthiest so much 
 so that by those who did not call him the Banker, 
 he was individualized as Black Isaac. The nose 
 was sharp and slightly arched. Eyes small and deep 
 sunk. A long somewhat pointed chin. The general 
 expression a combination of hawk and owl pene 
 tration and eagerness, with shyness and distrust. 
 The impression on Thomas was anything but pleas 
 ing. Lavater promptly would have called the face, 
 that of a crafty, designing man, totally devoid of 
 honor. 
 
 Dalguspin bent his eyes upon Thomas, and immedi 
 ately invited him into the Bank, the agreeable ap 
 pearance of which, in contrast with that of the pawn 
 shop, was inspiriting. In a few moments he had 
 drawn from Thomas a complete history of himself 
 and family of his Father's former estate, of his 
 present affliction, his object in visiting the city, his 
 relation to Friend Peale, and the difficulty in which 
 the Quaker's absence now placed him. The Pawn 
 broker's j>enetration saw before him an open, artless 
 youth, without the experience in bookkeeping he 
 desired, yet in straits, and whom he thought he 
 could easily control and might in more ways than 
 one make useful, and in his own mind determined 
 to take him. They at once proceeded to a discus-
 
 Thomas Ruffin. 67 
 
 sion of the terms, in arranging which the facility 
 was clearly on Dalguspin's side. 
 
 "The ad. has been in but two days," said the 
 usurer, as he rang up the clerk in the pawn-shop 
 "by ad. I mean advertisement," he remarked 
 parenthetically, answering an inquisitive look from 
 Thomas "yes, but two days, and I've had over a 
 hundred applications." 
 
 Thomas' look of surprise assured the Pawn-broker 
 he had made the desired impression. The latter 
 whispered to the clerk, who had now entered, and 
 then asked with hypocritical suavity : 
 
 "What wage, my young friend, do you expect?" 
 
 "Whatever is fair, replied Thomas. "Something 
 I can live on." 
 
 "Ah ! Something to live on ! That depends. One 
 can live very dear in a city, or on very little noth 
 ing almost fifty cents a week." 
 
 "Young man wants to see you about the ad.," 
 cried out the clerk, popping in his head at the side 
 door. 
 
 "Tell the young man to wait," said the Boss. 
 
 "What do you pay bookkeepers?" inquired 
 Thomas in a shy sort of way, as if asking the ques 
 tion placed him under an obligation to the usurer. 
 
 "Ah ! that depends, too. You see you have no 
 practical experience, you tell me, and business men 
 never employ bookkeeps to learn them to keep 
 books," replied Dalguspin, as a misbhievous looking 
 little smile at his humorous attempt played over the
 
 68 Thomas Ruffin. 
 
 swarthy features. "What say you to a dollar a 
 week?" 
 
 "A dollar!" exclaimed Thomas. "Why, Mrs. 
 Peale said I should not take less than four dollars a 
 week, to begin with." 
 
 "But I throw in a room, remember." 
 
 "A room !" 
 
 "Yes, I require my bookkeeper or rather my last 
 clerk to have a room in the Bank" 
 
 "But I'm to occupy my Father's room of nights, 
 you know." 
 
 "As I understand you, that arrangement is tem 
 porary only. In any event, my young friend, you 
 must have a room of your own. Where will you 
 put your things ? Where will you eat ? Do you 
 propose to board out ? With a room you might 
 board yourself at fifty cents a week, if you chose." 
 
 "Could I see the room?" Thomas inquired. 
 
 "It's out of order at present. I assure you it's all 
 right. High up and healthy, and ready furnished. 
 Worth twelve dollars a month, or three dollars a 
 week" (the garret roost would have been dear at one 
 dollar) "and this, with the one dollar, meets 
 Mistress Peale' s terms, eh?" 
 
 "This is for a beginning, then, as I understand, 
 Sir?" asked Thomas, with symptoms of surrender. 
 
 "Of course, my friend," the Pawn-broker unctu 
 ously replied. "You must bear in mind that I'm to 
 teach you practical bookkeeping. Certainly, you 
 will be advanced, just as you co-operate and show 
 yourself useful."
 
 Thomas Ruffin. 69 
 
 Here the head of the pawn-shop clerk popped in 
 again : 
 
 "Another young man, Sir, about the ad." 
 
 "Let 'another young man' wait, too," the Boss 
 replied in high key, as if annoyed by these inter 
 ruptions. 
 
 Thomas pondered, as. Black Isaac sat with fingers 
 locked and twiddling the thumbs. The former re 
 flected, that a dollar a week would leave him no 
 margin either for his Father, or his own needs. But 
 he would make every effort to please his employer 
 would be soon advanced, no donbt a room he 
 must have, he saw above all, it was the only op 
 portunity. So, to the Pawn-broker's question: 
 
 "Come, my friend, what do you say ? Others are 
 waiting " 
 
 He promptly answered : 
 
 "I accept the terms." 
 
 " Very well," said the Banker, with marked stress 
 on the adjunct. "You get a place many are seek 
 ing, you see. It only remains that you sign the 
 papers." 
 
 To Thomas' look of inquiry he replied : 
 
 "Yes, my young friend, it is necessary you should 
 give bond in three hundred dollars, to remain with 
 me at least a year." 
 
 "I cannot," demurred Thomas, intones of mingled 
 surprise and disappointment "I cannot sign papers 
 I do not fully understand, without consulting my 
 friends." 
 
 "It's all very plain," rejoined the Pawn-broker
 
 70 Thomas Huffin. 
 
 suavely. "You see I'm to learn you the business; 
 and for my services it's proper I should have some 
 hold on the party. I know your word's as good as 
 your bond. But it's city custom, my young friend 
 it's business. And there's no risk whatever not 
 the least. It's very much of a form. At the end of 
 the term the agreement ceases. Yon then will have 
 learned all the business your wages will have risen 
 the contract expires by limitation and you will 
 be free, perfectly free either to remain with me, or 
 to leave " 
 
 "Let me speak of this to Mrs. Peale," interjected 
 Thomas, as the Pawn-broker made a momentary 
 pause. 
 
 "It's scarcely possible, my dear Sir," came the 
 oily answer. "I am to see a young man presently, 
 to whom I've partially committed myself." ' 
 
 "Could you give me an hour?" Thomas asked. 
 
 "I'm to see this party within the hour, and he 
 must have the place, if you don't take it," rejoined 
 Dalguspin, looking at his watch. 
 
 The side door again opens, and the head pops in : 
 
 "Two more gents about the ad." 
 
 "Come in, John," said the Banker. 
 
 "Yes, Sir," responded the clerk, as he entered 
 and stood just within the doorway. 
 
 "Shut that door." 
 
 John obeyed, with hand upon the knob. 
 
 "If many more come, John, you'll scarcety have 
 room to hold them all," said the usurer, with that 
 mischievous little smile of his. "Tell these young
 
 Thomas Ruffin. 71 
 
 men," he continued, in lowered, confidential tone, 
 "I am engaged. They can return an hour hence." 
 
 "Yes, Sir," responded John, as he quickly disap 
 peared. And then many voices were heard in the 
 next room, and much moving about and shuffling 
 of feet, and rapid opening and closing of the front 
 door ; and John applying the point of the left 
 thumb to the extremity of the nose and vibrating 
 the fingers, while he stepped it a tiptoe in saucy 
 style retired from another successful exhibition of 
 the training he had got from the Pawn-broker. 
 (John, by the way, was thinking of setting up shop 
 for himself). 
 
 Meanwhile, Thomas was in a profound study. 
 The sole thing he was in any sense fitted for, was 
 bookkeeping^his knowledge of this, theoretical 
 only he could get no position without experience, 
 it appeared and this experience he could obtain 
 right here. The place, too, must have some special 
 advantages^ he thought, so very many were seeking 
 it. When would a chance like this offer again ? 
 And it was Hobson's choice, he further reflected 
 this or none. The state of his purse would not 
 allow another visit to the city on such an errand. 
 
 The Pawn-broker saw the scales wavering toward 
 his side, and the moment ripe for a coup de grace, 
 and remarked: 
 
 "222 is not far from The Home. TTiaf s a consid 
 eration." 
 
 Thomas looked up at the speaker, and then 
 looked down again, as the latter went on :
 
 72 Thomas Ruffin. 
 
 "And, young man, as you've caught my fancy, I'll 
 begin advancement right now, and raise the wage 
 fifty cents, making it a dollar and a half a week." 
 
 Thomas was captured. The indentures (copies 
 whereof Black Isaac kept ready for clerks, having 
 had difficulty in retaining them) were brought forth. 
 Thomas read over the contract. It was smoothly 
 worded ; and, perceiving no objection, he affixed his 
 signature then accompanied Dalguspin to the office 
 of a magistrate hard by and made affidavit next, 
 the paper was taken to the Record office and record 
 ed and the transaction, making him an indentured 
 clerk, was complete. 
 
 On the way back to the Peales,' Thomas indulged 
 in reflections altogether of a self-satisfying charac 
 ter. He had secured a position and settled the 
 matter of his Father's coming, and all by himself, 
 too. In a year he'd be- master of a calling, with 
 control of the market, in a sense, and could look 
 round for a better place, if need be. Meanwhile, 
 he could squeeze out a living, with a little margin 
 for his Father, he hoped. 
 
 Mrs. Peale's first glance read good news in his 
 eyes, and she saluted him all in smiles. When 
 Thomas told her he had gotten a place, she express 
 ed her gratification most warmly. When she heard 
 it was with a real Banker, she was positively de 
 lighted. When he mentioned the terms, she check 
 ed up somewhat, and considered it a bargain for the 
 Banker, unless the room was much belter than he 
 had occasion for. When he told her he had bound
 
 Thomas Run.. 73 
 
 himself for twelve months to a stranger, and showed 
 his copy of the indenture, she opened wide her 
 eyes. When she read in the bond the name of Dal- 
 guspin, she paused, looked grave, and spoke the 
 name aloud deprecatingly then, reassured, re 
 marked, that she knew by hearsay of one by that 
 name, but there were others no doubt of the same 
 name in the city. When she asked for descriptions, 
 to identify, and Thomas spoke of the 'sign with its 
 strange devise of three golden balls, suddenly and 
 very visibly her face darkened. Yet for a moment 
 only. She was aware of the impression she was 
 making. She saw the guileless youth had been 
 caught. She remembered, though, having heard her 
 good man speak of Dalguspin's recent sudd.en rise 
 of fortune, and his being connected with some 
 moneyed institution of creditable character, if she 
 was not mistaken. Possibly the hole might not be 
 as deep .and dark as her fears imagined. She would 
 let her good man explain, and would herself put the 
 best face upon the inevitable. If other considera 
 tions drew her towards Thomas Ruffin, now penni 
 less and more than orphaned, they were deepened at 
 the spectacle of this ingenuous youth taken in on so 
 pious a mission by a crafty usurer. A mother over 
 an afflicted child, could not have manifested more 
 tender sympathies. So the good woinan brightened 
 up and redoubled her attentions. She spoke to 
 Thomas encouragingly promised to have Friend 
 Peale write at once and advised that his Father be 
 brought on without delay.
 
 74 Thomas Ruffin. 
 
 The effect on Thomas was cheering. He thanked 
 Mrs. Peale for her kindness again and again bade 
 her inform the President of the receiving commit 
 tee, that arrangements were complete for his Father's 
 coming and left that afternoon for home with a 
 heart far lighter than when he entered the city. 
 
 Within the second week of his arrival he received 
 from Friend Peale the following letter: 
 
 Sept.- 183- 
 
 "Dear Thomas: 
 
 I am just back. Sorry, sorry, sorry, missed see 
 ing thee ! Martha has told me all, and I write 
 without a moment's delay. 
 
 Deeply do I regret thee felt compelled to bind 
 thyself to a total stranger. But the thing's done. 
 I have seen the papers at the Record office, and 
 there is no escape. It is an unfortunate step, 
 Thomas, I am bound to say; yet I beg of thee not to 
 be unduly troubled. Thee was confronted by diffi 
 culties, I know; and it may end well, after all. 
 
 It is my plain duty to speak without reserve of 
 the man to whom thou art bound. Thee must know 
 every circumstance before the service begins. 
 
 Dalguspin has been a licensed pawn-broker and 
 professional usurer, and thee knows what that 
 means. I can say has been; for a year and more 
 ago he purchased rather, was mainly instrumental 
 in purchasing the charter rights of what was known 
 in this city as The Lombard Association, under which 
 he now operates a Savings Bank, continuing pawn- 
 brokerage as regulated by the terms of the charter.
 
 Thomas Ruffin. 75 
 
 As chief of the pawn-brokers, Dalguspin has been 
 notorious in this city, without position or influence, 
 prominent only as first among a low class of dealers, 
 accounted shrewd, supposed to have more or less 
 money, lived secluded in his pawn-shop, and, as it 
 not unfrequently happened that genteel parties, 
 under temporary pressure and without available 
 commercial securities, applied to him for loans, he 
 was jestingly known among business men as the 
 Banker a title he singularly affects. 
 
 The bad odor of the pawn-shop we all know. 
 Almost universally it is run by unworthy men, who 
 are hardened again by constant contact with unfor 
 tunates, outcasts, and the vicious. I cannct say 
 that Dalguspin has been above his class and the 
 tendencies of the calling. By hook or by crook he 
 drives a trade with every one, as he did with thee. 
 I remember his figuring in some questionable trans 
 actions. But the law, I believe, has never reached 
 him. 
 
 I speak of Dalguspin particularly, as he was. 
 Within the past eighteen months a marked change 
 has occurred outwardly, at least. It began with 
 the purchase of the Lombard Association Charter. 
 That institution was in the hands of representative 
 citizens and thoroughly worthy; and doubtless an 
 element of respectability passed over to the busi 
 ness under its new name of "Loan Office" and "Wage 
 Earners' Savings Bank." 
 
 I can say, too, it's rumored, that Dalguspin has at 
 his back certain substantial citizens, who have faith
 
 76 Thomas Ruffin. 
 
 in his ability to make the enterprise successful. 
 Secret aid from such a source, while it shows on the 
 part of these citizens due regard for ttyeir reputa 
 tion, must be considered somewhat lifting to Dal- 
 guspin, who has had no reputation. In fact, he has 
 felt flattered, and been led to improve his surround 
 ings, and give evidence of a wealth which it had not 
 been thought he was possessor of. For nowadays 
 he dresses well is seen upon the street has made 
 valuable investments and occupies a residence on 
 an avenue with regulation outfit. 
 
 I know him. That is, we speak in passing no 
 more. I hope change in the moral status commonly 
 given him, has been as radical as in these outward 
 things. 
 
 These, Thomas, are the short and simple annals of 
 his character. 
 
 Now, I know, my son, all this will greatly shock 
 thee. But the shock would have been greater and 
 serious, had thee come hither without information. 
 In my anxiety to state the case fully, I may have 
 overstated it. And yet, it may in some way be all 
 for the best. Who knows '( Certainly, the twelve 
 months will soon pass, and thee may retire without 
 disadvantage possibly with gains. It all depends 
 on thyself, and I feel sure thee will not be wanting. 
 Dalguspin will employ thee in the Bank, I suppose. 
 The work will scarcely be heavy. One thing thee 
 must guard against don't let him use thee for un 
 worthy or dishonorable ends. I have an impression 
 of street rumors charging him with having gotten
 
 TJiomas lluffm. 77 
 
 his employees into trouble, or attempted to do so. 
 Be absolutely clean; and should Dalguspin make 
 improper advances, thee would not only have just 
 ground for leaving, but of sustaining legal action 
 against him. I trust there is little cause for appre 
 hension. Let us hope the tricks Dalguspin may 
 have been given to in other days, he would be above 
 in these, now that he is somewhat of a real Banker. 
 
 My dear son, I've felt it my bounden duty to tell 
 thee all this. But there is something I am abso 
 lutely unable to tell thee the depth of the sympathy 
 and aifection Martha and I have towards thy Father 
 and thyself. The former I have known for years. 
 His affliction is daily before me. It touches me as 
 that of a brother. Bring him on at once. At The 
 Home everything shall be done for him. Arid for 
 thyself, my dear son, remember that we shall be 
 near to thee here in every way, and that I am ready 
 to stand full handed behind thee. 
 
 Martha sends a loving message; and may the God 
 of all counsel and comfort abide with thee at all 
 times and in all places. 
 
 ADAM PEALE." 
 
 As Thomas rea,d this communication his heart 
 sank within him. He was so stunned and chilled by 
 the first lines, that the warmth and cheer of the last 
 made no impression, and he threw the letter from 
 him in despair. But he reflected. A second read 
 ing was not so cold and dismal. A third, and light 
 glimmered. And when for the fourth time he read 
 it collectedly, the letter was all brightened up by
 
 78 Thomas Ruffin. 
 
 the kind-hearted Quaker's closing sentiments, like 
 the evening clouds by the setting Sun's effulgent 
 rays. 
 
 His resolution was taken. The arrangements for 
 leaving, not of an elaborate character, were already 
 under way. They were now speedily completed, 
 and the next day, at 10 A.M., was decided upon for 
 the departure. 
 
 A personal word here touching Thomas Ruffin : 
 Within the past eight months decided change had 
 come over him. He still carried sensibility on his 
 sleeve was still notably shy and retiring. But a 
 sense of responsibility had exerted a tendency to 
 broaden and establish him, evidently. Grief, too, 
 had settled on his brow. Deep it was; yet the cir 
 cumstances of his Father's twin affliction obviated 
 in a degree sudden shock from either. While life 
 hung in the balance, his attention was distracted 
 from the temporal loss, and its magnitude approach 
 ed dimly from a distance, as it were. At the same 
 time, the dethronement of reason grew upon him 
 gradually, the subject of hope and fear through 
 watching, weary weeks and weeks. 
 
 His personal appearance was engaging. The dark 
 brown eyes were full and tender. An apparent 
 weight of responsibility upon delicate shoulders, 
 roused sympathy. In its general expression the 
 countenance was pensive, and the smile that often 
 played over it, one of singular sweetness. 
 
 The next day would be the last at Cloud Cap ! 
 Thomas could scarce realize it. Other matters,
 
 Thomas Ruffin. 79 
 
 weighty and pressing, had kept him in such a whirl, 
 he had not given this thought consideration. But the 
 hour of severance from scenes so full of the happiest 
 associations, had really come. He rose early and 
 walked forth* The storm of the equinox had passed 
 the evening before of unusual severity. For forty- 
 eight hours it blew great guns, and discharged 
 Hoods, leaving in its wake clear, bracing weather. 
 It was a fine autumnal morning, towards the close 
 of September the atmosphere so fresh and pure. 
 Just the gentlest ripple of air played by starts 
 through the trees, a sear and yellow leaf here and 
 there falling before ir. The sun was half hour high, 
 sharply outlined in the slightly hazy horizon. His 
 light was lessened, yet sufficient to deck the dewy 
 grass that sparkled again in the slanting rays like 
 stretches of brilliants. "Ilka blade had its drap," 
 and dipped with a "diamond in its head." 
 
 Thomas sought for adieu the fields and the woods 
 of his rambles, the scenes of sylvan sport and 
 pleasure. It had been long since he had visited 
 them such was the pressure. They appeared to 
 him to have voices, and greeted him on every hand. 
 Here in this thicket he was wont to set his partridge 
 traps. The space he had cleared was all bare, save 
 some scattered slats, remnants of a wreck, and Bob 
 White hard by was piping cheerily. Down there at 
 the branch his dams would be built and the flutter 
 wheels run. The flood of the equinox had swept 
 every vestige away, and the gurgling stream seemed 
 to be laughing in its liberty. He entered a wood.
 
 80 Thomas ftuffin. 
 
 It was full of sweet memories ; for this was Amy's 
 favorite walk. Here, beneath that ancient spread 
 ing oak, was the rustic seat his hand had made for 
 her. Yonder were the carnations, from a child his 
 favorite flower, that Amy had given him ; and be 
 yond, in the border himself had prepared, was the 
 rose her own hands had planted, now a splendid 
 Bon Silene ; for the gardener knew it and had given 
 his special care. Its last, brilliant, carmine blooms 
 were fading, yet still loading the dewy air with 
 "Sabean odors." Where was Amy now \ An orphan, 
 and earning her bread among strangers, he had 
 heard ! Did she think of him ? Would they ever 
 meet again? What changes! What changes! he 
 murmured. Sorrow is king here ! 
 
 As he turned to retrace his steps, an upper whirl 
 of air caught for a moment a growth of lofty pines 
 before him. Their summits swayed, and with that 
 peculiar weird and wailing sough this flora gives, 
 when its needles are swept by the breeze. It seemed 
 to Thomas a nod and sigh of farewell, and was a 
 spark to the train of his emotions. The flood of 
 feeling gave way that had been gathering. He stood 
 and wept. Then hastened back with lighter heart. 
 The baggage had all been sent on. Everything was in 
 readiness. At nine his Father, bidding adieu to none, 
 entered a close carriage was driven rapidly to L. 
 went aboard the boat and made an easy, inexpen 
 sive, uneventful journey to the city, where his and his 
 son's fortunes will be told in the 'chapters following.
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 NEW HOMES. 
 
 The November morning opens dark and surly. 
 The wind had settled in the North. Leaden lower 
 ing clouds stretch over the heavens a dismal vault, 
 belted along the horizon by bluish fringe. Milk 
 carts rumbled noisily over frozen cobbles. Few seek 
 the streets. Early errand women step briskly, 
 shawled and hooded, and workmen trudge along to 
 their tasks muffling great coats close about the 
 neck. By nine the storm breaks. Cold, cold, cold ! 
 Blow, blow, blow ! And the snow is coming down 
 thick and fast in whirls and zigzags and curling 
 sheets from wind-swept housetops. By noon the 
 storm had passed, leaving the day perfectly fair. 
 Three inches of snow had fallen, the first of the sea 
 son. A rising temperature follows the passing of 
 the cloud. The atmosphere grows foggy, and 
 through the snow-patched branches of the park trees 
 the eye may dare November's sun, sweeping low 
 above the southern horizon. 
 
 The afternoon of this day John Ruffin and Son 
 reached the city. It was Thomas' first impression 
 
 6
 
 82 Thomas Ruffin. 
 
 of a snow scene. He had witnessed occasional flakes 
 of snow. He had never seen before the whole earth 
 spread over by a mantle of pure white to him a 
 most striking and a most beautiful revelation. A 
 cab was called, and they were taken at once to The 
 Home. 
 
 At this particular time the institution was under 
 the executive control of the board of lady managers. 
 The superintendent had been uniformly of the other 
 sex. But the last masculine representative did not 
 get on well with the inmates. Finally, he was dis 
 missed; and while the managers were looking round 
 for a successor, they placed in charge, under their 
 immediate supervision, the housekeeper, Catherine 
 Sullivan or Miss Kitty, as she was commonly 
 called. 
 
 Miss Kitty was a genuine, unhewn, worthy Irish 
 woman, with the richest brogue fair, fat, and forty 
 or, to run it on the p's, pretty, plump, and pleas 
 ing rough and resolute of spirit, yet kindly withal. 
 In the chance opportunities from time to time 
 afforded, she had displayed executive talent; and 
 when given this new position, as a temporary expe 
 dient, managed the old men as cleverly as she did 
 the economies of the institution. 
 
 As already mentioned, Mrs. Peale had secured for 
 John Ruffin certain special privileges at The Home; 
 and her good will she further manifested by herself 
 furnishing his room. It was a large, commodious, 
 first floor apartment, rather off by itself, with two 
 inner doors; one connected with a lavatory and
 
 Thomas Ruffin. 83 
 
 bath the other, with a vestibule; and a private ex 
 ternal entrance, besides, opening immediately on the 
 iiorth-and-south street. The appointments were 
 plain, but neat. An art square took the place of a 
 carpet, purposely chosen, to be readily removed and 
 shaken. On the left was a bureau. Near this a 
 stand with a clock. On the right was the bed, and 
 under it a cot, rolled out of nights for the use of 
 Thomas. The stove was a heater, but with arrange 
 ments for plain cooking, if need be. And there 
 were chairs and sofa, &c., &c. All simple, but in 
 every way genteel by no means luxurious, and yet 
 what wealth, with severe taste, might choose and 
 so of a character to spare the occupant unpleasant 
 contrasts. 
 
 The physicians at L had impressed upon 
 
 Thomas the absolute necessity of his Father's having 
 manual employment of some kind, to occupy and 
 relieve the mind. What it should be was now a 
 most serious problem. Happily, his Father himself 
 solved it, and spontaneously. From the beginning, 
 when the question of removal to the city began to be 
 discussed, John Ruffi n repeatedly had expressed his 
 wish and purpose to do something to help Thomas get 
 along. At first no attention was paid to the notion. 
 Thomas, however, soon saw it was set in his Father's 
 mind, and encouraged it, as in line with the physi 
 cians' injunction. The old man would dwell and 
 dwell upon the idea. It came to possess him, this 
 notion of doing something to help along. And no 
 sooner had he become settled at The Home, than it
 
 84 Thomas Ruffin. 
 
 took shape, when he declared that something should 
 be bottoming chairs. It was a shock to Thomas 
 probably, because associated with negro life. But 
 he reflected it was the only thing his Father could 
 do certainly, for the present, at least. And it was 
 a final consideration, that his Father, who long and 
 secretly had been cherishing the notion, was rigidly 
 bent towards it and absolute in the expression of 
 his purpose, to do this particular work. 
 
 So, another problem arose: How would he get 
 patrons \ This, too, presently received solution, 
 through the agency of one Sandy Johnson. 
 
 Sandy Johnson was a curly haired, bullet headed, 
 freckled faced Scotchman, with yellow lockt, and 
 zanthous temperament. Sandy was a man sui gene 
 ris. When sentiments of an agreeable character 
 were addressed to him, he had a peculiar way, all 
 his own, of accompanying the sentiment with a 
 sympathetic motion of lips, eyes, and features gener 
 ally the most noticeable movement being a quick 
 side to side play of the head. He was clean shaven, 
 save a full, bushy, overhanging moustache that had 
 become sufficiently saturated with nicotine, and had 
 brushed acquaintance with soup and such like often 
 enough, to justify the use of the individual com 
 munion cup. In earlier life he had been a resident 
 
 of L where he enjoyed quite a reputation for 
 
 making puns and rhymes, as well as boots, his nor 
 mal vocation. In one of Friend Peale's business 
 visits to L a point he cultivated as being a dis 
 tributing centre for an extensive back country with
 
 Thomas Ruffin. 85 
 
 a rich trade the jolly Quaker happened to make 
 Sandy's acquaintance through the medium of a 
 ripped boot. He was attracted by the Scotchman's 
 ready humor made inquiries touching his charac 
 ter learnt from Sandy himself he was not succeed 
 ing as he would wish and the upshot was, that, 
 upon Friend Peale's representation in a correspon 
 dence following, Sandy packed up awls, pegs, &c., 
 to set up shop in the Quaker's city. That he did 
 not prosper at first was his own fault very probably. 
 In the ordinary Scotch thrift he may not have been 
 deficient. But his humor and jovial turn drew 
 
 around him here, as before at L , improvident 
 
 currents, and "busted" building associations did 
 not help along. When he lost his good wife, Sue, 
 he lost his financier; and even with Sue's careful 
 management, it often happened that ends would not 
 meet, and he was fain to seek the pawn shop of Dal- 
 guspin against whom, by the way, he harbored a 
 grudge for certain alleged sharp dealings; though in 
 truth he had partially righted wrongs by such under 
 work and over charge on boots, as would pass Dal- 
 guspin's scrutiny. However, Sandy at this time was 
 doing much better. He had a snug home of his own; 
 had paid off debts had put by something, too 
 and if reports were to be credited, was casting sheep's 
 eyes at Mistress Kitty, the housekeeper at The Home. 
 Really Sandy Johnson possessed abilities much 
 above his station. He had a shrewd and lively 
 intelligence was a very respectable improvisatore 
 and excellent company, as may be supposed. When
 
 86 Thomas Ruffin. 
 
 he opened his mouth, ten to one but apt saws and 
 jingling lines would drop out. Friend Peale was 
 very fond of him. In truth there was intimacy, as 
 far as difference in social position allowed. Sandy 
 
 remembered Thomas, as a child, but had left L 
 
 before Thomas was old enough to remember liim. 
 John Ruffin he knew well had cut leather for the 
 family had heard through Friend Peale the recent 
 history of his old townsman; and if thereat his ready 
 sympathies were roused, they took fire when told 
 how Thomas had been entrapped by Dalguspin. 
 
 Sandy, you may be sure, was on the watch for 
 Thomas' arrival, and at the earliest moment sought 
 him out. The latter was taken captive at once by 
 the interest manifested by the warm-hearted Scotch 
 man, and his racy conversation; and at the first inter 
 view brought up the matter of his Father's projected 
 work, and the difficulty he feared touching patrons. 
 Sandy's 'cuteness was equal to the occasion. He 
 himself would supply the chairs Thomas could 
 give him (Sandy) the half dollar (the price John 
 Ruffin had settled on) he (Sandy) would give it to 
 his Father for the work his Father would give it 
 to Thomas Thomas again would give it to him 
 (Sandy), to be given in turn again to his Father, 
 &c., &c., and so the half dollar be made to run in a 
 circle. And as for chairs, if he could not command 
 a sufficient number, what was easier than to rip a 
 bottom, and have the same chair travel round the 
 circle before the half dollar \ 
 
 Thomas considered the proposed arrangement the
 
 Thomas Ruffin. 87 
 
 identical thing itself, but for the fear lest his Father 
 might recognize his old acquaintance. Sandy felt 
 confident, however, he had so changed John Ruffin 
 would never know him yet would be cautious and 
 go disguised, if necessary; and so parted from 
 Thomas with the chair question solved, and each 
 wonderfully pleased with the other. 
 
 John Ruffin soon settled down comfortably and 
 satisfactorily at The Home. He liked his room- 
 liked the location ; was disposed to like everything. 
 One change he made in the appointments of the room. 
 Mrs. Peale had had prints hung. These John Ruffin 
 removed, replacing them with four cuts of his own 
 and with which he held daily communings, cuts 
 representative of Cloud Cap scenes here one of the 
 mansion, and here a cotton field scene, and here a 
 rice field, and here a print of the sugar mill. 
 Shucks were provided, and he went to work dili 
 gently upon a trial chair, to revive and perfect skill 
 in the handicraft. 
 
 The Peales Thomas never mentioned to him. 
 They expressed the strongest desire to see their old 
 friend, without his knowledge, and Thomas prom 
 ised that at an early day, when his Father would be 
 in the Park, or under some other circumstances, he 
 would try to gratify them. 
 
 The servant specially detailed to wait upon John 
 Ruffin to tidy his room, answer his bell, bring the 
 meals, in short to look after all his wants was one 
 Sabina. That Sabina was an old-time Virginia 
 darkie, black as the ace of spades, was all the more
 
 88 Thomas Muffin. 
 
 agreeable to the Southern planter, and she had been 
 selected purposely with reference to such an effect. 
 
 Sabina perhaps had more sense than her appear 
 ance and manner would seem to indicate; for she 
 was cock-eyed and looked at you with one organ 
 only, accompanied by a certain twisting of the head 
 as if endeavoring to force the fellow-organ into po 
 sition would go staring, gaping about, like any 
 provincial in a city and had a way, often without 
 any apparent or at least adequate cause, of breaking 
 out into vacant guffaws, amusing, at times startling 
 in their effects. 
 
 Thomas who gave to his Father the purest and 
 deepest affection, all that a dutiful mind can con 
 ceive remained with him the whole of the first 
 week, looking after every want, and rejoiced to see 
 him so well satisfied. John Ruffin's impressions 
 were new, and, being new, were salutary. Scenes 
 and environments were entirely changed. He was 
 surrounded by strangers, yet strangers whose 
 attentions were sympathetic and tender. He had 
 been a master and a law to slaves. He was 
 now living by rule and under authority, even 
 though an authority most considerately exercised. 
 All this so far lifted him from old conditions 
 with which his losses and afflictions were as 
 sociated. In a new sphere, these losses, in a 
 measure, were lost sight of, and betterment set 
 in. A link to the past was Sabina yet not a harm 
 ful link, rather otherwise; since her negro character 
 and John Ruffin's Southern ways .were in harmony.
 
 Thomas Ruffin. 89 
 
 Sabina had been told his history, and pointedly 
 enjoined not to regard anything he might say or do 
 out of the way. By nature an amiable creature, 
 John Ruffin became really attached to her, and 
 when from habit he would assume the tones and 
 bearing of a master, forgetting his circumstances, 
 and at times threatened her doings, and even at 
 tempted punishment, Sabina would only stare and 
 roll her eyes, and retreat good humoredly in a chorus 
 of guffaws. 
 
 The institution had its regular visitors we mean 
 unofficial visitors all representative of religion, 
 more or less some formally so, as members of re 
 ligious orders others individually. John Ruffin 
 point blank refused to see any of them. One, how 
 ever, persevered and finally gained admittance by 
 means of a little chair she carried bundled up, to be 
 bottomed. Sabina, it is thought, furnished the hint 
 of the chair. She gave the name of Sister Jessica. 
 Dressed in deep black, with the heavy veil in every 
 instance worn down all the while, disguising the 
 features completely, apparently she was a religieuse. 
 To John Ruffin' s inquiry as to her business, she 
 answered, that having known sorrow herself, she 
 visited those in distress. Is that all ? he asked. 
 No, she replied. She would have a chair bottomed. 
 The following week she called again for the chair, 
 and insisted on paying the full dollar for a half 
 price job. The visits often with a little chair 
 were continued; and while the ample wage estab-
 
 90 Thomas Ruffin. 
 
 lished an immediate interest in his visitor, her per 
 sonality grew upon John Ruffin rapidly. The visits 
 were generally made just before candle light at Satur 
 day's eventide, and John Ruffin soon found himself 
 looking forward to them with pleasing anticipations. 
 The exceeding kindliness of tone and manner, the 
 inexpressible tenderness, the care she took to find 
 out and to gratify his fancies in the minutest partic- 
 ticular, the flowers he loved which she invariably 
 brought all combined in a Miost happy effect. 
 
 An early request from John Ruffin was to beg that 
 she would remove the veil and let him look upon 
 her face. She declined, saying she was bound by a 
 vow to appear under such conditions of apparel, and 
 checked all attempts to draw forth any portion of 
 her history. It was sometime before Thomas met 
 Sister Jessica, her visits being at an hour, when he 
 was at the "Bank." But his Father spoke of her 
 so constantly. "Jessie," or "my little angel," or 
 "my little Sister," or some other term of endear 
 ment (he rarely called her Sister Jessica) was so 
 often on his lips and the influence upon his Father 
 of this ministering spirit so palpable, that a special 
 interest in her was inevitable. 
 
 Thomas made inquiries of Miss Kitty, and was in 
 formed that the lady had visited TheHome before 
 his Father came that she saw other inmates that 
 she had orders to admit her outside of regulation 
 hours and that that was all she knew about Sister 
 Jessica. Curiosity led Thomas to go further and
 
 Thomas Ruffin. 91 
 
 question Sabina, and to his inquiry what she might 
 know the darkie made answer, introducing it with 
 the roll of eyes and the stare and the guffaw with 
 which she commonly enlivened the expression of 
 her sentiments : 
 
 "I doesn't know nuthin at all, honey." 
 
 So Thomas and his Father could gather no more 
 than that Sister Jessica was Sister Jessica, and that 
 her visits of mercy or vocation grew out of some 
 affliction, grievous and peculiar it must have been, 
 that had befallen her. This settled, curiosity 
 ceased, and the visitations were taken as routine 
 matter. 
 
 The Sister so ingratiated herself, that John Ruffin 
 finally became confidential, and, under pledge of 
 secrecy, imparted to her, in all its details and over 
 and over again, the story of his own affliction how 
 rich he had been what a lovely home he had had at 
 Cloud Cap how he had lost it all how embittered 
 he had been against the Sanfords how he had 
 learnt his cousin was innocent how grieved he was 
 for the sorrows that had stricken his family how 
 often he thought upon his little Amy how she had 
 been to him as a daughter how she would bring to 
 him every season the first yellow Jessamine and 
 Moss bud, his favorite flowers, &c., &c., &c. 
 
 It was from hints in these conversations that 
 Sister Jessica learned John Ruffin' s fancies and was 
 able to gratify them. She found, for example, that 
 the Moss Rose was a favorite flower, and in almost
 
 92 Thomas Ruffin. 
 
 every bouquet she brought, some variety of the Moss 
 was present: It struck Thomas with surprise. 
 From cultivating it for John Ruffin, the Moss became 
 a favorite with Amy herself, and, under the circum 
 stances, Thomas had given this rose a study. He 
 knew the entire list, the dwarf, the cupped, the full 
 blown flower all the best species, touching form and 
 cqlor, from the crimson Luxembourg to the pure 
 white Comtesse de Murinais. He knew, too, the Moss 
 was a Spring bloomer, flowering at Cloud Cap in 
 May. But here his Father's visitor was supplying 
 beautiful specimens in Winter. He had never heard 
 of the Moss as a perennial. The flower had tender 
 associations, and he would seek information the first 
 opportunity from his Father's veiled friend. Mean 
 while, he made free use of her gifts and almost daily 
 carried a Moss bud as a boutonniere. 
 
 The arrangement was for Thomas to begin work 
 the week following his arrival. Meanwhile, he took 
 the necessary steps for occupying the room at the 
 Bank. He had already seen it, having called the 
 second day after reaching the city, and by the close 
 of the week had partially recovered from the shock 
 its general appearance presented. It was on the 
 third floor, a low-pitched, 12 by 12, half front attic. 
 The back attic was filled up with household rubbish, 
 whence apparently had been selected the outfit for 
 the front apartment. A dormer window, opening 
 eastward, was about the sole intrinsic comfort con 
 nected with the room; for Thomas, of early Winter
 
 Thomas Ruffin. 93 
 
 mornings, would stand at this window, and catch on 
 his head the warm sunshine and feel better the sun 
 shone so warm and good upon him. The ceiling 
 which once had been whitewashed, was dingy and 
 dirty. The walls, with dark paper, showed cracks 
 and bulgings. For wardrobe a corner was curtained 
 off. There was a single bed, and an ancient bureau 
 (one of the drawers out of order and unserviceable), 
 and a small pine table for eating and writing, with 
 an old moth-eaten worsted cover two Windsor 
 chairs and a washstand, which a bungler had 
 smeared with varnish holding such an excess of tur 
 pentine that in warm weather everything stuck fast 
 upon it. The wash-bowl was cracked, and, as a 
 whole, looked so infiltrated and uninviting, that 
 Thomas bought a bright tin basin; and while in the 
 tin-shop purchased some tin spoons at a half penny 
 each. He provided, too, an oil lamp, with attach 
 ments affording capacity for cooking to the extent 
 of drawing a cup of tea, &c., and the moth-eaten 
 table-cloth he discarded for sheets of clean paper. 
 Heating was by a small coal stove, which smoked 
 most annoyingly, when the wind was on the chim 
 ney; and a rickety coal box, with a peck of coal, 
 stood near. 
 
 On the walls hung an ancient dusty cut of a girl 
 in a garden watching a humming bird at a flower 
 an advertising card a horse-shoe suspended by a 
 faded ribbon -and some queer looking, put-away, 
 sallow prints (of ancestors, perhaps) in oval frames.
 
 94 Thomas Ruffin. 
 
 John Ruffin expressed a warm desire to call on the 
 Baiiker, before Thomas went to work, to thank him 
 for his kindness, and to see his son's room with his 
 own eyes. But Thomas persuaded him against it 
 all. His Father must not know the location must 
 not even pass by 222 North G. St., lest he see the 
 golden balls. He represented it would be better, 
 later on, to see the Banker at his residence; and that 
 he need not be concerned touching his room. That 
 it was high and healthy, with beautiful sun light, 
 and walls all hung with pictures, &c. So John Ruf 
 fm was obliged to content himself with fancyings. 
 He dwelt on the peculiar name "Dalguspin," and 
 pictured to himself a foreign looking personage, of 
 noble and benevolent aspect, presiding over vast 
 money affairs in a stately building in one of whose 
 luxurious apartments his dear son was domiciled. 
 
 As has been said, Dalguspin was the head both of 
 Bank and of pawn-shop. Shrewd and of exception 
 al working capacity, he had the affairs of each at 
 his finger ends. "John" was clerk in the Shop 
 with an assistant. He received goods, cast interest, 
 computed storage charges, conducted forfeiture 
 sales, &c., &c. Dalguspin was assessor and cashier. 
 A long experience enabled him to give swift and 
 accurate valuations touching those thousand and 
 one different sorts of things offered, that make an 
 established pawn-shop a remarkable museum. A 
 private back door communicated between Bank and 
 Shop, and at the ring of his number, Dalguspin
 
 Thomas Ruffin. 95 
 
 would shuffle in and dispose of the matter at a 
 glance. The Bank'' s executive staff stood in Dal- 
 guspin, President and Treasurer Thomas Ruffin, 
 clerk and William, the watchman. Thomas, under 
 pressure, was to get a lift from John ; and it was 
 expected, that, in a Shop exigency, he was to take 
 John's place, or give the latter a return lift. There 
 was the usual finance committee, with the Presi 
 dent at its head, which nominally controlled the in 
 vestments. Practically, Dalguspin had aifairs in 
 his individual hands.
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 WHEREIN ARE RECORDED SOME FIRST IMPRESSIONS. 
 
 The Monday came, when Thomas was to com 
 mence work. It was one of those typical Novem 
 ber days significant of weather change. The morn 
 ing opened hazy and lowering. The temperature 
 rose. The clouds thickened and moved lazily from 
 the South West. The atmosphere was charged with 
 a penetrating dampness. By noon a light quiet rain 
 was falling. As evening drew on the wind shifted 
 and blew cold from the North the clouds rifted to 
 wards the Western horizon and the Sun, on the eve 
 of setting, burst forth, illuminating with his level 
 rays many a wall and window, and filling all the 
 West with floods of crimson glory ! Could it be an 
 augury of his career, thought Thomas to himself, 
 as he caught the sun-set from the Bank's window 
 this contrast between the opening and the close of 
 the day ? 
 
 Thomas received his Father's blessing, that Mon 
 day morning, and was at his desk by times. The 
 situation was clear to him in all its objectionable 
 yes, ugly yes, risky features. But the indenture's
 
 Tliomas Rnffin. 97 
 
 run would be short. He resolved to be true both to 
 himself and to his employer. 
 
 Dalguspin occupied the early hours in general in 
 structions. The Bank opened at 10, and from that 
 moment till long after dark Thomas' hands were full 
 with the various books, &c that is to say: Deposi 
 tors' Credits, Depositors' Debits, Paying out and 
 Receiving moneys, Receipt-Book, Ledger, Casting 
 Interest, &c., &c. 
 
 John Ruffin had been awaiting his son with un 
 speakable anxiety. All that live long day he 
 had been on his knees, or with hand and heart 
 upraised. In what agony of prayer did he beseech 
 God to be with his son to make him faithful and 
 successful to grant him favor before his employer 
 and strength of body to stand up ! He could not 
 eat. Night came. He could not sleep. It was 9 
 p. m. ! What ! what ! had happened ! Presently 
 he heard a step, and he knew it. O what relief ! 
 What a calming of the spirit ! How joyfully he re 
 ceived him back ! And when Thomas told him he 
 had come out all right, what tears of rapture were 
 shed ! 
 
 Next day, early, Thomas was at work again. He 
 hit his nails with the hammer of Thor. So active 
 was he, "caught on" so readily, and was so amiable 
 and winning withal, so complaisant and ready to 
 yield to Dalguspin'' s wishes, in short so different 
 from the clerks Dalguspin was accustomed to, that 
 the Banker saw he had won a prize, with large capa 
 city for usefulness, and began, in various little ways, 
 
 8
 
 98 Thomas Ruffin. 
 
 to show his appreciation. As an instance: Not un- 
 frequently there was night work at the Shop, and 
 with Black Isaac it was a hard and fast rule to re 
 quire the clerk employed last to sleep in the build 
 ing ; yet he volunteered permission to Thomas to be 
 two nights off, Thursday night and Sunday's, in lieu 
 of the one Sunday night, as had been agreed upon. 
 Then, in speaking to him alone, he would often call 
 him "Tammie," or "our Tammie," the name, as he 
 learnt, by which his Father addressed him ; and 
 hinted, moreover, that at an early day he should 
 have more money. All this greatly stimulated 
 Thomas, who had already set up a high standard of 
 duty, and he exerted himself far beyond the reasona 
 ble limit of his raw, undisciplined powers. Be wise, 
 young man. Over work is a noble folly. Labor 
 judiciously, and so bear life's burden with strength 
 and j oy. 
 
 In this way of mutual satisfaction, matters went 
 on for some weeks far into December. 
 
 But suddenly a change came over Dalguspin. He 
 looked sunk, was silent, and disposed, without cause, 
 to be cross. Apparently, something had happened. 
 It was really so. The early portion of 1837 is mem 
 orable for the wildest speculation, and Noals, this 
 time, had been bitten fatally. With cotton at ten 
 cents, and all the outlooks, as he felt sure, most 
 favorable for a rapid rise, this speculator bought, 
 through his New York broker, four thousand bales, 
 giving a note for $140,000 at ninety days with the 
 cotton as collateral, and the residue in cash. Of
 
 TJwmas Ruffin. 99 
 
 this cash, Dalguspin advanced j)ersonally $35,000, 
 raised on mortgages Noals $10,000 and the bal 
 ance ($15,000) Black Isaac "borrowed" from the 
 Bank, supplying the shortage by forging notes on 
 certain of the Bank's patrons. The notes, he knew, 
 would pass the finance committee, even should an 
 examination be made; since none of the committee 
 were cognizant of the signature of these patrons, 
 and they would not take the trouble to test them. 
 And though aware that the district Examiner, one 
 Edward Stone, no doubt would test them, yet this 
 rigid functionary was not expected on his rounds 
 for some months. Stone, by the way, was a recent 
 appointee. Dalguspin never had met him. Knew 
 him only by report and correspondence. 
 
 The cotton note matured December 20th. Against 
 all expectation, cotton had dropped at that date 'to 
 seven cents. Three months later, by a remarkable 
 fluctuation, it rose to seventeen cents, the highest 
 point for 1837. But it was then too late, and Dal 
 guspin was swamped. No wonder the man felt 
 blue; or that he began looking round for chances at 
 money by hook or by crook, after his old methods. 
 
 It was not long before an opportunity presented 
 itself. One Cameron, well known to Dalguspin, a 
 man of means, but suddenly needing a hundred dol 
 lars on the spot, ran into the Bank one day and 
 executed a sight note for the sum. A week later 
 Cameron was stricken by apoplexy and died uncon 
 scious within a few hours. Here was a chance. So 
 by a chemical process discovered and known only to
 
 100 Thomas Ruffin. 
 
 himself, Dalguspin effectually removes "hundred" 
 from the note's face, and, adept in counterfeiting 
 hand- writing, replaces it with "thousand," and an 
 nexes a cipher to the figures. What could be easier, 
 he thought ? 
 
 But Cameron' s executor became suspicious. There 
 were memoranda to show the amount borrowed was 
 $100, and other circumstances pointing towards for 
 gery, a law suit was threatened. Matters looked 
 serious. Should they reach a crisis, a witness would 
 be necessary, or the devil might be to play, and Dal 
 guspin hoped and thought he had one in Thomas, 
 who was present on the occasion, and no doubt 
 recollected his paying money over to Cameron. But 
 Thomas needed some coaching. 
 
 The morning, therefore, following the threat of 
 suit (it was Saturday morning), Dalguspin came down 
 to the "Bank," and, with a manner unusally suave, 
 said to Thomas : 
 
 "Don't you remember last Thursday week, about 
 half -past 10, a large, fat, red-faced, clean shaven 
 man came into the Bank and had a conversation 
 with me?" 
 
 "Yes, Sir," Thomas replied. "I remember him 
 distinctly." 
 
 "That man's name was Cameron." 
 
 "Yes, Sir. I heard you call him so." 
 
 "Very well, Tammie very well you remember 
 him distinctly, you say, and you heard me call him 
 Mr. Cameron, you say. 
 
 "Yes, Sir,"
 
 Thomas Rujfin. lot 
 
 "Very well. Mr. Cameron died the week follow 
 ing, and he owed me by note a thousand dollars." 
 
 "Indeed!" 
 
 "Yes, Tammie one thousand dollars. You will 
 remember that, Tammie ?" 
 
 "Yes, Sir." 
 
 "Very well very well. Now the executor threat 
 ens to go back on the note, and I may have to sue, 
 to get my money." 
 
 "I hope not." 
 
 "You can help me, Tammie, if I should be forced 
 to law him. Cameron executed this note in your pres 
 ence" (handing Thomas the note). "You see the 
 writing and the figures one thousand." 
 
 "Yes, Sir," Thomas answered, handing baek the 
 note. 
 
 "You saw me paying him money." 
 
 "Yes, Sir. I remember that very well." 
 
 "And I tell you, Tammie, it was a thousand dol 
 lars I paid him. You'll swear to that, if necessary ?" 
 interrogated the Pawn-broker, as he bent upon the 
 youth his deep-set glittering eyes. 
 
 "Yes, Sir. I will. Certainly." 
 
 "Tammie," said Dalguspin effusively, approach 
 ing the young man and taking his hand. "You're 
 no gilly. A jury'll believe anything you say. You 
 face is honesty itself. Here's an X" (handing a ten 
 dollar bill). "You deserve it, Tammie." 
 
 Thomas reflected a moment, and then offered back 
 the ten dollars : 
 
 "Mr. Dalguspin, I can't see why I should take
 
 102 Thomas ttuffin. 
 
 your money for doing what is so plain and simple." 
 
 "No! no!" exclaimed Black Isaac, raising his 
 hand deprecatingly against the proffered bill. "It's 
 justly yours, for extra work any how." 
 
 "If you put it on that ground, I suppose I may 
 keep, it, and, indeed, Mr. Dalguspin, I thank you 
 for the kindness." 
 
 "You're a trump, Tammie, and deserve more, and 
 I hope soon to do more for you. I'm thinking of 
 getting some one in your place and making you my 
 private secretary and putting all my personal affairs 
 into your hands. You'll have less to do and more 
 pay, and can be every night with your Father eji '( 
 It'll be a snap, Tammie." 
 
 "You're very kind, indeed, Sir," answered Thomas, 
 with a countenance expressive both of the surprise 
 and the gratification he felt at the very unusual pro 
 ceedings on the part of Dalguspin. 
 
 "Co-operate with me, Tammie, and you'll have 
 the stuff. That's all I can say, and that's enough," 
 replied Dalguspin, giving vent to one of his low little 
 laughs "he ! he ! he !" as he recognized the jingle 
 he had made. "You've promised," he continued, 
 "to swear that you saw Cameron .enter the Bank 
 that Thursday " 
 
 "Yes, Sir." 
 
 "That your attention was drawn by his manner of 
 entrance 
 
 "Yes, Sir." 
 
 "That he was a large, fat, red-faced, clean-shaven
 
 Thomas Ruffin. 103 
 
 man, and you could not be mistaken as to his 
 identity - 
 
 "Yes, Sir." 
 
 "That you distinctly heard me call him 'Cam 
 eron' 
 
 "Yes, Sir." 
 
 "Very well ! very well ! Tammie. And that you 
 saw me pay over to him one thousand dollars." 
 
 "No, Mr. Dalguspin, I did not say that." 
 
 "What!" ejaculated the Pawn-broker. 
 
 "I said, Sir, I'd swear that you told me you paid 
 him a thousand dollars." 
 
 "The devil you did !" Dalguspin exclaimed,* with 
 a changing countenance. "You don't propose to 
 make me a liar, my young man, do you?" 
 
 "No, Sir, I do not." 
 
 "Why can't you believe, Thomas, what I say?" 
 
 "I am ready to believe it." 
 
 "You see here the note drawn in Cameron's own 
 hand for $1000. You saw me paying him money- 
 ten one hundred dollar bills. Can' t you believe it V ' 
 
 "I have no reason, Mr. Dalguspin, not to believe 
 what you say." 
 
 "Then, can't you swear, with this note before 
 your eyes, and my words which, you say, you be 
 lieve, in your ears, that you saw me pay Cameron 
 $1000. Take care, Tammie," Dalguspin went on, 
 dropping the bluster for a low and significant tone, 
 "it'll benefit me, and benefit you, too." 
 . "I can swear only to what I know, that you said 
 you paid Mr. Cameron $1000," Thomas replied in a
 
 104 Thomas Ituffin. 
 
 rising and decided inflection, as the Pawn broker's 
 drift broke upon him. 
 
 "You're a fool, Thomas Ruffin," growled Dalgus- 
 pin, losing self-control and his face turning as red 
 as his swarthy countenance would admit. "You 
 shall repent of this, Sirrah ! Remember the indent 
 ures do not specify your wage. I can starve you 
 and your old Father," he continued, advancing 
 towards Thomas, as he spoke, his eyes snapping and 
 forefinger shaking an angry menace. 
 
 Thomas Ruffin was one of those natures not un 
 commonly recognized, who ordinarily may be timid 
 and shrinking, but with a reserve of genuine spirit 
 making wholly unexpected displays in the presence 
 of real danger or under great provocation. He now 
 rose trembling with emotion and white as a sheet, 
 yet resolute to act in the face of such an assault 
 upon his deep sense of right and his filial love, and 
 met Dalguspin's eyes with a gaze so firm and fixed, 
 that the latter stopped then he spoke in low delib 
 erate tone : 
 
 "Mr. Dalguspin, I understand it all. I've been 
 warned against such attempts. I will do what's 
 right, and I do not fear your threat." He paused 
 a moment, then continued : "I've been instructed 
 by my friends, and, if I chose, I could break the 
 contract for what you've done, and" he paused 
 again, then added "could bring you to justice, 
 besides." 
 
 Black Isaac was thunderstruck. He had failed to 
 take the measure of this slender, modest youth.
 
 Thomas Muffin. 106 
 
 A1J at once he found himself "in a hole," and scram 
 bled out the best he could. 
 
 "Thomas," he cried, with a change of voice and 
 manner to fit the turn, "it's just a put up job all a 
 fib. Some of my clerks have proven knaves, and it's 
 my rule to test new ones. You'll do, Thomas 
 you're pure gold," he continued, turning hastily 
 towards the back entrance to the Pawn-shop, as the 
 ring of his number called him thither, very much to 
 his relief, we dare say. "I'll try to reward you for 
 this," he added, turning towards Thomas on reach 
 ing the door. 
 
 As the door closed behind him, he turned towards 
 the room, just left, with faces and low curses and 
 divers thrusts and sweeps of the finger, to represent 
 apparently the stabs and cuttings he would be glad 
 to do, or intended to do, to somebody. 
 
 "Yes," he muttered, "he gets the better of me by 
 ten dollars, besides. Yes, I'll try to reward you 
 for this." 
 
 The affair left Thomas in the unhappiest frame of 
 mind. Dalguspin's latter words were all pretense, 
 he felt. That it was a deliberate attempt to use him 
 criminally, that Dalguspin was stilla bad man, and 
 that he had incurred his enmity, he did not at all 
 doubt. What should he do \ Might not the usurer 
 seek revenge ? Very likely. There was something 
 peculiar, Thomas thought, in the tone of the words : 
 "I'll try to reward you for ^his." And might he 
 not be able to entrap him in some way he could 
 not avoid ? There was danger in remaining. On
 
 106 Thomas Ruffin. 
 
 the other hand, should he take legal steps and 
 break the contract, could he keep the trouble from 
 his Father? Must his Father not discover that 
 something had happened ? And would he not be 
 affected by it and his improving condition checked ? 
 There would be hazard in leaving, or even making 
 the attempt. And might he not find difficulty, too, 
 in getting the kind of work he could do ? Friend 
 Peale temporarily was out of the city. There was 
 no one with whom to counsel judiciously. The poor 
 fellow was in great trouble distracted and without 
 a guide. 
 
 Dalguspin's bearing during the day, was much as 
 usual. Not a word was said outside of current busi 
 ness. The morning incident was not even alluded 
 to, and the usurer's manner of adieu, as he left for 
 home, the same as it had been. 
 
 When Thomas entered his room that Saturday 
 evening how different his circumstances and feelings 
 from those with which he had left it that Saturday 
 morning ! He had risen at half -past 4, and, refresh 
 ed by sound sleep, began tidying his room hum 
 ming snatches of song. The garret roost he kept 
 clean and orderly, and actually was becoming 
 attached to it. How happy the faculty of adapta 
 tion ! The prints and very walls seemed compan 
 ions. They had heard his prayers and sighings, and 
 seen his tears. Affairs, too, were now getting into 
 better shape. His Father was improving. His own 
 health was stronger. Dalguspin was appreciative. 
 The Peales, encouraging. Of the remnant of for-
 
 Thomas Ruffin. 107 
 
 tune, a few dollars were still in store for emergen 
 cies. The skies all looked brighter; and he went 
 about preparing the simple morning meal with a 
 grateful and a hopeful heart. 
 
 What a change on his return to it in the evening ! 
 The wind was on the chimney and the stove smoked. 
 Gloom everywhere in the room round his heart 
 and out over the prospect. With no spirit to pre 
 pare food, he forced a remnant of the morning's 
 meal; and the atmosphere having now become abso 
 lutely vitiated by smoke and products of combus 
 tion from an oil lamp, he raised the sash to purify 
 the room, and sought the street. Square after square 
 he sped along, and returned to his room in no better 
 frame of mind. Neither did the bed bring rest. All 
 through the night he turned and tossed in broken 
 sleep rose early and aweary and went forth for 
 relief. It was Sunday morning. The heavens were 
 shrouded, the fog was dense sympathetic weather, 
 raw, damp, and thick. Thomas walked rapidly, and 
 his long stride soon brought him within the precincts 
 of a noble out-lying Park, of stream and lake and 
 woodland and lawn yet green. At an hour so early, 
 and in such weather and locality, and on this par 
 ticular day, few were stirring, save the frogs. It 
 was, indeed, a fine frog morning, and these merry 
 musicians were much in evidence. The air was so 
 fresh in the Park. It struck Thomas with tonic in 
 fluence. His blood, too, was up from exercise. He 
 felt better; and began to think better of his circum 
 stances. One thing he could say, that his hands
 
 108 Thomas Ruffin. 
 
 were clean that "the ungodly have laid a snare for 
 me, yet have I swerved not from Thy command 
 ments." And had he not a wise friend in Adam 
 Peale, whom he would see perhaps to-morrow ? The 
 difficulties did not now seem to him altogether so 
 formidable. He'd take courage and try to forge 
 through. And he felt that he would. And all at 
 once there came to him a lifting of the spirit and a 
 confidence. The weather, too, apparently was in 
 sympathy; for it was now perceptibly improving. 
 As Thomas faced eastward, on the return, he would 
 catch, every step or two, glimpses of the Sun's disk. 
 Anon, a ray struggled through a rift. The fog was 
 lifting. All around was brightening ; and by the 
 time he reached his door, the mist had all rolled off, 
 and a genial December Sun poured light and warmth 
 from a cloudless sky. 
 
 "An omen !" cried Thomas. 
 
 That Sunday and Sunday night Thomas passed 
 with his Father in a cheerful mood, as if nothing 
 had happened. Next day he saw Friend Peale, who 
 became enthusiastic over his conduct. He advised 
 Thomas to let things rest, for the present at least; 
 but to keep close watch. That while he scarcely 
 doubted Dalguspin's evil mind, it was possible he 
 had made no misrepresentation. In any event it 
 was not certain he could prove his case; and, should 
 he. fail, his position would be so much the more un 
 comfortable not taking into account the probabil 
 ity of the affair's reaching his Father and affecting 
 him injuriously.
 
 Thomas Ruffin. 109 
 
 Under these circumstances, matters went on at the 
 Bank pretty much as before. The cloud over Dal- 
 guspin appeared to be deepening. He continued 
 moody and meditative spoke little looked woe 
 begone and almost daily was in retired conference 
 with a stranger, whose ame Thomas afterwards 
 learnt was Noals. 
 
 December almost had passed, a busy month, with 
 increased work for Thomas. Xtmas was drawing 
 near happy season to the young pensive to the old 
 to Thomas full of sweetest memories. The festival 
 was a week off, and the impulse it imparted conspic 
 uous to eye and ear in every direction. Such crowds 
 and bustle and jams on the streets and in the shops ! 
 Such groaning counters ! Such garish windows ! 
 Every body busy, busy, busy buying or selling or 
 sight-seeing ! Such a joyous, buoyant, expectant 
 spirit in the air ! Faces, everywhere, so bright and 
 anticipative ! This mighty Xtmas throb of a great 
 city, congesting all the arteries of trade, and send 
 ing a stir into every degree and condition of life, as 
 though the world were born again and advancing 
 afresh on its course, was something new and strik 
 ing to Thomas. Speaking of the impression to the 
 Peales, they told him he must be out Xtmas Eve at 
 candle-light that the markets and thoroughfares 
 and merry marauders would be another revelation. 
 
 Dec. 24th, 7 p. m., Thomas was at his desk, finish 
 ing up the day's work, when a confused roar from 
 the direction of the market, two blocks off, fell upon 
 his ear. He remembered the PeaJes' suggestion,
 
 110 Thomas liuffin. 
 
 and, closing the ledger, hurried forth to witness his 
 first city Xtmas Eve. A few minutes walk brought 
 him to the precincts of the market, where Xtmas 
 trees in great stacks were being disposed of to bust 
 ling buyers, and mountebanks were haranguing, and 
 toy-peddlers exhibiting their jumping monkeys and 
 marching mannikins, &c., &c. Another step, and 
 he was within the market proper, celebrated where- 
 ever known, and now in its glopy for the chiefest 
 holiday of the year. The vendors were all in the 
 freshest and whitest aprons and overalls, as well as 
 the heartiest humor. The stalls, the cleanest and 
 the tidiest, ablaze with lights, and decked profusely 
 with evergreens; and the array and artistic arrange 
 ment of viands of every description, and the thous- 
 and-and-one other commodities vended here, was for 
 new eyes a sight to see. The regulation Turkey was 
 conspicuously in evidence, presented on all sides 
 of every kind, form, age, and gender turkey fera, 
 turkey domestica, turkey dressed, turkey half- 
 dressed, turkey undressed, as well as turkey dis 
 tressed (in over full coops). Great bustling, wedg 
 ing throngs greeted the jovial vendors, pushing and 
 nudging and jostling along good-naturedly with 
 hearts and hampers fall of Xtmas cheer, all laugh 
 ing or greeting or bargaining or chaffering a babel 
 of voices, whose level was pierced almost incessantly 
 by the shrill soliciting cries of the market-men. It 
 was a stirring scene Xtinas Eve on its gastronomic 
 side. 
 
 Thomas entered the market near midway arid
 
 Thomas Ruffin. Ill 
 
 slowly worked on eastward, attracted by the mighty 
 din which came from that quarter, and rose far 
 above even the hubbnb immediately around him. 
 Reaching the eastern limit of the open shed-built 
 market-house, he saw something. All down the 
 street leading up to it, as far as he could descry, 
 till a curve cut off the view, on side walk and from 
 curb to curb, was a dense, hurly-burly, uproarious 
 mass of merry-makers, revealed by the lamps and 
 the lanterns innumerable. Thomas struck an east 
 ward current, and was borne along into the thickest 
 of the whirl. The most pronounced feature was the 
 ceaseless and awful noise that gathered from hosts 
 of throats and extemporized agencies. The tin horn 
 was omnipresent, from the twenty incher to the 
 twenty footer (borne on a line of shoulders). Dinner 
 bells and cow bells were clanging. The watchman's 
 sharp rattle would be answered back by ear-split 
 ting college yells. Tin pans were drumming, and 
 there were cheers and shouts and peals of laughter, 
 and blowing of fists and of fingers, and cat calls, 
 and cock crowings, and dog barkings altogether 
 making a mighty sound, loud enough and long 
 enough and discordant enough to rouse the seven 
 sleepers. 
 
 Masks, too, were much in evidence, and the wax 
 nose, and caricatures, and dominoes, and white dit 
 toes, and what else God only knows. Here was a 
 party of fellows with white stove pipe hats two feet 
 high, fiercely bewhiskered, overcoats turned inside 
 out, in lock-step, and bawling a bacchanal. And
 
 112 Thomas Ruffin. 
 
 here a body of collegiates, of foot-ball fame, thrown 
 into a V and cleaving a passage. And here a set of 
 youngsters who had caught a docile fat man, and 
 were bearing him aloft to the shouts of the crowd, 
 &c., &c., &c., &c. It was a rushing, furious out 
 pour of jollity. But every one seemed good-natured, 
 and the Blue Coats on this special occasion kept 
 hands off. Xtmas Eve on its merry side, thought 
 Thomas. 
 
 He was not, however, en rapport. Merry, merry, 
 indeed, had the season been at Cloud Cap and at 
 
 L . But merriment was secondary and subdued, 
 
 and through it all the Prince of Peace was distinctly 
 visible. Here his features appeared lost. Even had 
 it been otherwise, personal recollections and pain 
 ful contrasts were unavoidable, and Thomas, bred 
 in a simple spiritual way and dissatisfied, escaped 
 into an alley., A few steps brought him to the par 
 allel street. It was a thoroughfare, but now de 
 serted; for all had been drawn into the whirlpool of 
 revelry behind him. The solitude was grateful. As 
 he stood a moment listening to the uproar, a num 
 ber of women hurried by, one after the other, and 
 all in the same direction. From some cause (was it 
 the attraction of gravity ''. or force of example '( or 
 occult magnetic influence ? or psycological sympa 
 thy ? or may be a good angel's hand ?) he followed 
 at a little distance, turning as they turned, though 
 rather out of the way to his lodgings. As he went, 
 others and others joined, and Thomas became inter 
 ested as to the outcome. Three squares off they
 
 Tliomas Ruffin. * 113 
 
 reached: the Cathedral gate. Many from every 
 quarter were going in, and with them he passed into 
 the venerable temple, and took a seat in the nave 
 just within the circle of the dome. Though one of 
 the city's special attractions, never before had he 
 visited this sanctuary; for it represented a worship 
 to which not only was he a stranger, but against 
 which by breeding he was prejudiced. Still, he 
 held his seat, and with a sense of growing satisfac 
 tion. The sacred chancel lamp, with fitful red flame, 
 symbol of the Blood shed, brought the altar into 
 relief sufficiently to reveal a wealth of Xtmas flower 
 and evergreen. Back, the apse was darksome, and 
 its fresco paintings barely distinguishable amidst 
 the cedar festoonings and decorations. This was 
 Thomas' first view, as he looked out before him; 
 and the sweet sympathetic Xtmas-tide impression 
 made, went on gathering fullness and force, as other 
 features of the scene grew into his consciousness. 
 The imposing edifice, its size and jjroportions the 
 noble dome the striking frescoes encircling its base 
 the dim religious light the reverential silence, 
 broken only by the cautious step of the incomers or 
 outgoers, or passers to and from the confessionals 
 the apparent devotion of the worshippers, intent at 
 book or prayer or communings, as if absorbed in 
 introspection and conscious of but one Presence all 
 these influences pointing upward, wrought an im 
 pression in complete harmony with a spirit bowed 
 by memories of other days a chastened, soothing 
 impression, deep and full. Now and then a far off
 
 114 Thomas Ruffin. 
 
 murmur from the revel-rout, would be heard. It 
 seemed to Thomas from a world way below. Here 
 was another world, with another spirit, serene, hal 
 lowed, inspiring. And as he rose presently to leave, 
 with yet another view of a city's Xtmas Eve, he said 
 within himself, as did Jacob of old, "Surely, the 
 Lord is in this place .... and this is none 
 other than the house of God." 
 
 Meanwhile, the weather had grown cooler, the 
 breeze had risen, the clouds had all fled, and east 
 ward in the heavens the stars, in unusual combina 
 tion and admirable for size and radiance, presented 
 a scene that no one, with any sense of the grand and 
 the beautiful though no star-gazer like Thomas- 
 could behold without emotion. The kingly Jupiter, 
 this night a most singularly splendid eastward star, 
 was the central feature. Fiery Mars, at its perihe 
 lion and in opposition, led the way before him. 
 Castor and Pollux in the Twins followed in his 
 train, and magnificent Orion with dazzling white 
 Sirius were attendants the apparent elect among 
 the starry host, those stupendous and glorious 
 worlds that make perchance "the many mansions in 
 His Father's house." It was upon an open Thomas 
 entered, as he left the sanctuary, and this resplen 
 dent "Star in the East" set in "living sapphires," 
 caught and held his eye. He stood and gazed upon 
 it, and the Xtmas-tide associations and sentiment 
 deepened and widened still. 
 
 The young man sought his lodgings. The hour 
 was late. His eves were heavy. The scenes he had
 
 Thomas Ruffin. 115 
 
 just witnessed, faded and faded out at sleep's ap 
 proach; 'but anon, in other form, the train of thought 
 vividly revived them. For behold ! he dreamed. 
 And again it was a joyous Xtmas-tide at Cloud Cap. 
 And again he stood by Amy's side, cutting the cedar 
 twigs she was binding into wreaths for the Xtmas 
 altar.
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 OF PLOT AND PLOTTERS. 
 
 The door-bell rang (3 p. m.) at Dalguspin's up 
 town residence. It was answered by a man-servant- 
 something over twenty, one would have judged 
 with a bearing apparently above the position he was 
 occupying and whose bright general appearance 
 gave every indication of his knowing a hawk from 
 a hand-saw. 
 
 Robert Small (the valet's name) had entered 
 Black Isaac's service under peculiar circumstances. 
 On a certain street a certain day his steps were 
 arrested by a violent altercation between two 
 men one, old and feeble looking the other, a 
 young vigorous fellow. The latter was about to 
 commit an assault, when Robert spoke up. He 
 knew nothing touching the merits of the controversy, 
 but instinctively interposed to protect the aged man. 
 The fellow struck Robert. Robert knocked him 
 down. The fellow rose with a dirk in hand and 
 made for Robert, whereupon a ball from the latter' s 
 pistol broke the fellow's right arm. Arrest followed 
 then u trial, There were extenuating circum-
 
 Thomas Ruffin. 117 
 
 stances, and Robert got off with three months' im 
 prisonment and fine of one hundred dollars. 
 
 The old man was Black Isaac. His assailant, an 
 honest fellow whom the Pawn-broker had tricked in 
 a money transaction. Naturally, Black Isaac was 
 drawn towards his defender. He visited him in 
 prison, and, needing a head-servant, proposed to 
 Robert, at the close of the prison-term, to pay the 
 fine, if he would work it out in his service a pro 
 posal Robert was not slow to accept. 
 
 The visitor was Noals of whom the reader has 
 heard before, incidentally. Noals was a ready- 
 witted, comical sort of a man. In earlier days he 
 had been a comedian of local celebrity in an amateur 
 company and was still an inveterate wag, making 
 light of everything, cut out for low comedy, and, 
 had he held to the stage, unquestionably would have 
 risen a bright, particular star. He dealt in real 
 estate. Speculation in this field had brought him 
 money which, however, passed from him readily 
 through the channel of a free and easy life. They 
 had brought him, too, something else a fancy for 
 speculation in other and less secure directions. 
 Cotton then was a gambling rage. Noals took a 
 hand and at first was fortunate. He drew Black 
 Isaac into it, and made for him some brilliant hits, 
 until finally, as we have seen, he was hit back. 
 
 Noals' personel was peculiar. He was a fattish 
 dumpy kind of man clean-shaven, save some patches 
 of beard in sheltered spots passed over by the razor 
 in its morning round, and a remarkably noticeable
 
 118 Thomas Ruffin. 
 
 tuft of long thin hair on the chin. The cutaway 
 coat, besides, with skirt all too short, seemed shorter 
 still from a persistence to wriggle up towards the 
 neck; so that he may be said to have been individu 
 alized, anteriorly by a goatee posteriorly by a coatee. 
 
 In the last venture himself was involved, as well 
 as the Pawn-broker; and he now came to press on 
 Black Isaac (over whom, as we have said, he exer 
 cised great influence,) a ^desperate remedy. The 
 Pawn-broker was u at home" and immediately re 
 ceived his visitor (who had called by appointment) 
 in a private apartment. 
 
 "It's an awful fix ! awful ! awful!" broke out 
 Black Isaac the moment the door closed and before 
 his guest had time to seat himself; "yet I can't 
 realize it, Noals. I can't realize I'm dead broke, 
 Noals that this house and all these comforts are 
 really mine no longer. I know it's so; but I'm 
 insensible to it, Jimmie. It dazes me, deadens me, 
 Jimmie like those sudden and fatal wrenchings of 
 the body, we hear of, which take from the victim 
 the power to feel." 
 
 "Come ! come ! Dalguspin. Real men look into 
 the face even facts like these, and cast about for a 
 way out." 
 
 "A way out and be hanged !" 
 
 "A way out and be saved, say I." 
 
 "My own money's all gone," bewailed Black 
 Isaac, as he paced the room wringing his hands and 
 gesticulating in bitterness of spirit "the Bank's 
 fifteen thousand are gone my office will go my
 
 Thomas Ruffin. 110 
 
 character will go ! Poverty, misery, dishonor hang 
 over Dalguspin ! Oh ! this damnation luck of yours. 
 Can there be a way out, except along a pistol's 
 barrel?" 
 
 "Pos-si-bly," was Noals' slow and emphatic re 
 joinder. 
 
 The Pawn-broker stopped bent his miserable 
 eyes upon his visitor a moment then spoke : 
 
 "James Noals, are you jesting or not ?" 
 
 "I'll eat my old hat, if I ain't in dead earnest." 
 
 "What do you suggest, then?" Black Isaac asked 
 in a way which seemed to imply that no suggestion 
 could be effective. 
 
 "Now look here are there any funds you could 
 use for a time funds sufficient to lift the mortgages 
 and settle our personal losses?" 
 
 The reply came short and snappy : 
 
 "None." 
 
 "Think again, Dalguspin. Nof-u-n-d-s you could 
 lay hands on?" asked Noals, dropping his voice to 
 a significant whisper. ( By the way, some one has 
 remarked upon the singular fact, that the voice, 
 when dropped, should make .less noise than when it 
 is raised). 
 
 The Pawn-broker paused a moment, reflectively : 
 
 "I know of none but the Bank's" 
 
 "Why not lay hand on these ?" 
 
 "What! Steal and skip?" 
 
 "Neither." 
 
 "To take the Bank' 's funds and be caught, not 
 stealing!"
 
 120 Thomas Muffin. 
 
 "No more stealing, than to take the Bank 's funds 
 for private spec., is stealing. You meant to replace 
 the money then. You would mean to replace it 
 now." 
 
 Black Isaac paused again, with eyes upon the 
 floor and left forefinger tapping the nether lip. 
 
 "How would tracks be covered!" he presently 
 asked. 
 
 "It might be arranged to have the Bank robbed." 
 
 "Robbed ! You said there was to be no stealing." 
 
 "The robbery would be a blind." 
 
 "A blind ! Away with riddles, Noals ! Explain 
 yourself !" 
 
 "Suppose, then, Dalguspin, that, under disguise, 
 I should employ a man, a proper man, a right sort 
 of a man, may be a cracksman, to do the job. Sup 
 pose I were to go to him and say : For certain rea 
 sons it is desirable a certain Bank apparently should 
 be robbed. Suppose I should tell him that, on a 
 certain night at a certain hour, he would find every 
 thing to his hand, the private watchman away, and 
 access to the Bank and to the Safe easy that he was 
 to do his part with drag and jimmy and jackscrew, 
 and leave every mark of a burglary of a genuine 
 break-in and blow-open. Suppose I were to tell him 
 he would find in the Safe, say, $500 or $1000 and 
 ask him, whether, for this sum, he would undertake 
 the job. Suppose I should seriously suggest all this. 
 What would you think of it, Dalguspin 2" 
 
 The Pawn-broker made no answer, but sat ab 
 sorbed, and Noals went on :
 
 Thomas Huflin. 121 
 
 "'Twould be good pay and little risk, with no 
 motive to squeal. No suspicion would attach to you. 
 No one knows you've been speculating. I would 
 make it a condition that the man at one leave the 
 country, or this part of it, and he would understand, 
 that, should he cause or attempt trouble, revenge 
 would pursue him to the earth's ends. What would 
 you think of such an arrangement?" 
 
 The Pawn-broker still sat silent and absorbed. 
 
 "Carry it out, Dalguspin, and your fortune is saved 
 your character is saved the Bank could be reor 
 ganized and you could bend your energies to raise 
 a pile sufficient to replace every dollar of this bor 
 rowed money. What say you to it V 
 
 ''It must be thought upon, Noals. Call here at 
 10 to-night." 
 
 Noals took a cigar from the table, applied a match, 
 and retired. The Pawn-broker rang up Robert, and 
 giving instructions that he be kept absolutely un 
 disturbed, closed and locked the door upon himself. 
 
 The door bell again rang and Mrs. Peale was re 
 ceived. She had called for a word with her good man 
 Adam, who, at this hour, was to speak to Black Isaac 
 in behalf of Thomas Ruffin. On the plea of hard times 
 the Pawn-broker had cut his clerk's slender wage, 
 and Thomas (who would not lessen what he had been 
 accustomed to spare to his Father) was actually in 
 want. Friend Peale offered and even pressed assist 
 ance. But Thomas knew the kind-hearted Quaker 
 had met recently with business losses and refused 
 the help. 
 
 Mrs. Peale, an excitable little woman, always
 
 122 Thomas Ruflin. 
 
 bustling, and now partly out of breath from her 
 walk, glanced around the vacant room then turned 
 upon Robert with the snappy query : 
 
 "Where's Adam?" 
 
 "I hope in heaven, Madam," Robert replied sol 
 emnly and with a puzzled look, not knowing what 
 else to say to the wholly unexpected and unappre- 
 hended interrogation. 
 
 "Does thee say he's gone, my Adam ?" cried Mrs. 
 Peale, startled and ready to weep. 
 
 "No ! no ! no ! Madam ! I thought you meant the 
 first man, Mrs. Peale." 
 
 "Nay, nay, I mean my old man," rejoined the 
 now smiling woman. 
 
 "A thousand pardons, Mrs. Peale. What a blun 
 der !" Robert ejaculated to himself "how could I 
 know 'Adam' was in his name?" Then aloud: 
 "Your husband is not here, Madam." 
 
 "Then I'll wait a bit. He was to be here at this 
 hour," (looking at her watch), "to speak with Dal- 
 guspin for Thomas Ruffin." 
 
 "Thomas Ruffin, Madam !" 
 
 "Yea. Why does thee ask so? Does thee not 
 know who Thomas Ruffin be ?" 
 
 "No, Madam." 
 
 "He's clerk in Dalguspin's Bank" 
 
 "He is?" 
 . "Yea. Thee should know that, I think." 
 
 "Why should I, Madam ?" 
 
 "Headman in the Banker's house should know 
 something of the Banker" 1 s Bank, I think."
 
 Thomas Ruffin. 123 
 
 "I have never seen the Bank, Madam, nor do I 
 know anyone in it, save Monsieur Dalguspin. Bank 
 and Court-house I shun on principle." 
 
 "And wherefore?" 
 
 "As likely inlets to the jail." 
 
 "Thee does!" rejoined the amused Mrs. Peale. 
 
 "Yes, Madam. 'Twas a father's counsel." 
 
 "Thee may be a wise son of a wise Father," Mrs. 
 Peale remarked reflectively. " Well, I can tell 
 thee," she added, "that Thomas Ruffin is clerk 
 with thy master. We feel great interest in him. He 
 is son to an old friend of ours, nowat.The Old Men's 
 Home, poor John Ruffin !" 
 
 "John Ruffin!" 
 
 "Yea. Whose else son could he be \ I was at 
 Cloud Cap " 
 
 "Ah ! The bell, I believe," Robert interrupted, 
 as he assumed a listening attitude. "Excuse me, 
 Madam." 
 
 Robert retires to answer the bell. A moment later 
 re-enters, and remarks : 
 
 "You seem warmly interested in John Ruffin, Mrs. 
 Peale." 
 
 "Yea. He'n an old friend. I was at Cloud Cap, 
 his lovely home, when the news came." 
 
 "What news, Madam?" 
 
 "That he had lost every cent, of his fortune, poor 
 man ! It came in the twinkling of an eye. And 
 what a change ! What a change ! Never shall I 
 forget it ! Oh! so sudden, so complete, all the circum 
 stances so tender and affecting ! John Ruffin fell, 
 as if from a shot. For weeks I nursed him at death's
 
 124 Thomas Ruffin. 
 
 door; and, when his body recovered, his mind was 
 gone !" 
 
 "Have a glass of water, Mrs. Peale. You look 
 fatigued. 
 
 "I am not so fatigued. Yet I will thank thee." 
 
 Robert turned to the buffet, and, while blowing 
 his nose and fumbling, accidentally and most unfor 
 tunately poured from the whiskey 'decanter and 
 offered the glass. Mrs. Peale tasted with a face and 
 a sputter, and returned the glass indignantly : 
 
 ''Thee can spare the liquor for thine own use." 
 
 "Excuse me. Madam, do excuse me, I pray," apol 
 ogized Robert, confounded and abashed by the error. 
 "Really, it's unpardonable. My mind was off at 
 the moment, and the decanters, you 'see, are just 
 alike, and the liquor is water-color." 
 
 Robert awkwardly replaces the glass on the tray, 
 spilling part of the contents, at which he remarks : 
 
 "I take pride in my service, Madam, and the blun 
 der really unman' s me." 
 
 Turning now to the buffet, he pours a glass from 
 the water decanter and offers to Mrs. Peale. Re 
 ceiving back the glass, he busies himself a moment 
 at the buffet, to recover from his confusion; then 
 turns and observes : 
 
 "And John Ruffin's at The Old Men's Home, you 
 say, Madam?" 
 
 "Yea and his sole stay his son Thomas." 
 
 "He has a son, then ?" 
 
 "Yea and such a son ! Oh ! it's awful sad, the old 
 man's lot ! I fear he can't do anything at all, but
 
 TJwmas Ruffin. 125 
 
 pray. He's just like a. child, and hath no kin to 
 love him or take care of him, but this young son. 
 And he's such a dear good son ! He works so hard 
 to get his Father little extras to which he has been 
 accustomed, and so help him to forget his poverty. 
 And he touches up his room for him, and reads to 
 him, and walks out with him every day, and is so 
 tender and encouraging towards him, and looks 
 after him just like a little mother, and is just too 
 nice for any thing, I can tell thee. Yea, yea John 
 Ruffin knows what it is to have a son, I can tell 
 thee." 
 
 "Good for the old man! Madam." 
 
 "But Dalguspin, for shame ! is rough upon the 
 youth." 
 
 "Pity! pity! Mrs. Peale." 
 
 "Yea. Thy master's grown a hard man. Years 
 ago, when I first knew him, he was kindly dis 
 posed." 
 
 "Years ago !" 
 
 "Yea when he began running the Pawn-shop. 
 He had redeeming qualities then and was ever ready 
 to lend ; but age has made him close and cruel." 
 
 "Why doesn't the young manjeave ?" 
 
 "Oh! he can't. He's an indentured clerk. But 
 Adam's to be here_, to speak for him to Dalguspin. 
 And will you please give him this ?" (handing a 
 note). "I thought I might miss Adam, and wrote a 
 line. It may help Thomas. I don't want Adam to 
 forget a certain thing." 
 
 "Certainly, Mrs. Peale," Robert answered, as he 
 received the note and ushered out the Quaker lady.
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 THE PAWN-SHOP. 
 
 In whose stale atmosphere the reader shall not be long detained. 
 
 It may be observed, that, while the Pawn-broker 
 and Noals were wickedly conferring and plotting, 
 Thomas Ruffin was having his bowels of compassion 
 moved by scenes among the unfortunate ; for on the 
 same day and at the very same hour, when Black 
 Isaac received Noals at his residence, as recorded in 
 the chapter preceding, Thomas for the first time 
 took his turn in the Pawn-Shop, as clerk or re 
 ceiver. John's assistant was ill, and John himself, 
 a young expert, this day filled the Boss's place as 
 appraiser in the rear apartment. The Bank closed 
 at 3 p. m., the Pawn-Shop generally at 7 ; and on 
 these occasions, when Thomas gave John a lift, the 
 former was expected to finish up at night the after 
 noon work of the Bank balancing cash, posting to 
 the ledger, notifying note-debtors of approaching 
 maturity, &c., &c. 
 
 As has been stated, the charter name and sign of 
 the establishment was "Loan Office," and it was con-
 
 Thomas Ruffin. 127 
 
 ducted on the general principles of the Mont de 
 Piete ; but the repute which the latter institution 
 held abroad, had not been drawn towards it. The 
 offensive odor of the old Pawn-Shop still prevailed, 
 and its patrons were of the same low and debased 
 character. True, that now and then those of real 
 respectability, and even of wealth, for the moment 
 embarrassed, sought its aid ; but the great mass of 
 customers were the working poor, the spendthrifts, 
 the rou6s, the debauchees, distributed among labor 
 ers, orphans, widows, shop-girls, domestics, stu 
 dents, soldiers, &c. 
 
 Business at the Pawn-Shop was now brisk; for it 
 was the middle of January. During summer many 
 of the poor laboring class seek the country. Those 
 remaining in the city find employment, and expenses 
 are light. The season, too, is healthier, and, were 
 it not for rum and idleness, the Pawn-Shop in sum- 
 mes time practically would be deserted. With cold 
 weather expenses increase more food is needed 
 often there is sickness crowds flock in from the 
 country and the shelves of the Shop begin filling up. 
 
 But at this juncture a potent special cause was 
 operating. It was the closing days of Jackson's 
 second administration, when experimental finance, 
 rash meddling with the currency, the nation's life 
 blood, had brought about a state of affairs, which 
 resulted a few months later, as thoughtful men fore 
 saw, in the historic panic and crash of 1837 that em 
 phasized the commencement of Van Buren's term of 
 office. Two years before, the United States Bank
 
 128 TJiomas Ruffin. 
 
 had been allowed to expire by limitation. Its down 
 fall was followed by a multitude of state banks, 
 emitting floods pf issue. Speculation and overtrad 
 ing ran riot on the swell of inflation. The gold and 
 silver of the country, wholly inadequate for redemp 
 tion purposes, rose to a premium and disappeared 
 from view save where borrowed at two to three per 
 cent. ' a month, to carry all sorts of the wildest 
 schemes. Shinplasters went on depreciating, and 
 the sufferers, first and deepest, were the poor. The 
 laborer saw "his bag of meal and peck of coal going 
 up in price, and the rag money received for the 
 week's wage going down." It was the day for the 
 Pawn-broker. 
 
 Black Isaac's absence had closed for an hour the 
 door of the Pawn-Shop. When Thomas ojjened it 
 at 8, a more than usual number pressed in for the 
 most part women. Never before had he so con 
 fronted these unfortunates. As liable any day to 
 be called upon to give John a lift, he had been in 
 structed in the routine duties of the Shop; but now 
 for the first time was he officially brought face to 
 face with its wretched patrons. And if to one of 
 generous and refined sensibilities, under the most 
 pleasing personal conditions, the spectacle was mov 
 ing, the present surroundings of Thomas Ruffin all 
 tended to deepen the spectacle's influence. He was 
 a kind of sufferer himself beset by circumstances 
 of a nature to draw forth sympathy for sufferers. 
 He knew he had incurred Black Isaac's enmity. 
 There was a painful sense of having an evil eye upon
 
 Thomas Ruffin. 129 
 
 him and of being insecure. He had a constant fear 
 of having some web of malice secretly spun around 
 him; yet saw no immediate way fairly open by 
 which to withdraw from the danger. And, withal it 
 was that hour of special nervous depression (with 
 very many), 3 to 4 in the afternoon, when sympa 
 thies perhaps are more easily touched, or at least 
 the gloomy aspects of misfortune appear still more 
 gloomy. 
 
 The applicants filed in and took seats in the order 
 of entrance. It was a rule to serve them in like 
 order. So Thomas beckoned, and the first in the 
 row came forward to the counter a pale, weak-eyed, 
 hollow-cheeked woman and offered a pair of bed 
 sheets. The quality was fair, and the sheets. in a 
 state of good preservation, and worth, in the money 
 of the period, fully three to four dollars. Thomas 
 pinned on a check with number, date, description 
 of goods, &c., and passed in the bundle to John for 
 appraisement, as the woman reseated herself. A 
 moment later John returned the bundle, with a note 
 of valuation; and Thomas, calling out the number, 
 stated that the goods were rated at three-fourths of 
 a dollar, and a two-thirds loan would be a half dol 
 lar. The poor woman cried out at the smallness of 
 the sum, and the cry was taken up and repeated in 
 a low but impressive way by all those present, so 
 great is the sympathy among these unfortunates. 
 At the same time the woman advanced and besought 
 for more, pleading her wretchedness, that her hus 
 band was down sick and could not work, her own
 
 130 Thomas Ruffin. 
 
 strength broken, and the little children had eaten 
 the last loaf. The evident reality of the woman's 
 poverty and solicitude would have affected a heart 
 less tender than Thomas Ruffin's. He thought, too, 
 the valuation was below even a pawn-broker's stand 
 ard, and was disposed to refer the case again to 
 John. But what was the use, he reflected. John 
 was a close cutter, he knew a hardened fellow, with 
 the spirit of a true pawn-broker, who is pitiless 
 and always decides these matters as his own inter 
 ests dictate. He simply replied, therefore, that it 
 was her privilege to refuse the valuation. The wo 
 man shook her head in silence, and, coming up to 
 the counter to close the contract, presented a grocer's 
 receipt for identification. Whereupon her ticket 
 was made out and given her with the money, and so 
 she departed. 
 
 "Next !" cried Thomas, and the call was responded 
 to by a much younger looking woman whose whole 
 shabby-genteel appearance suggested one who had 
 known better days. She came forward modestly, 
 and with that smile on her wan features which oft- 
 times masks a fullness of sorrow. Her well-worn 
 dress of black was the plainest, yet scrupulously 
 neat and clean her eyes large, watery, and lustrous 
 the blue veins shown distinct over the pale shrunk 
 en face and the body was wasted and weak, so weak 
 that the jaws, in repose, hung slightly apart. The 
 evident signs of a fatal disease, and the refined, 
 modest, lady-like air, could not fail to rouse at once 
 unusual sympathy and interest. Thomas took down
 
 Thomas Rujfin. 131 
 
 the bundle called for by the ticket, and, observing 
 the pawn had been renewed for the fifteenth time, 
 felt curious to see it and peered into the package. 
 It was a dimity petticoat, and, as the young woman 
 caught a glimpse of it, unobserved she brushed away 
 a tear. The material was superfine, and the fabric, 
 with border richly embroidered, could not have cost 
 under an eagle. It had been valued at three dollars, 
 with a three-fourths loan upon it of two and a quar 
 ter dollars. 
 
 "I see it has had fifteen renewals," remarked 
 Thomas. 
 
 "Yes, Sir," she replied with a smile. 
 
 "Why don't you redeem it ?" 
 
 "Because I am too poor, Sir." 
 
 "Wish to renew again?" 
 
 "Yes, Sir." 
 
 "You know that every renewal carries a tax," 
 said Thomas, with a growing interest roused by the 
 young woman's looks and bearing. 
 
 "Yes, Sir, I do." 
 
 "And the sum of the taxes will soon equal the 
 valuation." 
 
 "Yes," she answered, as her pale countenance be 
 gan to grow yet paler and she became visibly agi 
 tated, "but I've never known the day, Sir, when I 
 could pay down at once the full ransom money." 
 
 "Why not let it go then?" 
 
 "Oh! Sir!" she cried, bursting into tears, "it is 
 the last relic of my Mother !" 
 
 It was a scene even for the Pawn-Shop. The usu-
 
 '132 Thomas Ruffin. 
 
 ally dull, self -communing pawners present, attracted 
 by the colloquy, were now wide awake and eagerly 
 interested. Thomas himself, fresh in this business, 
 was deeply moved and could scarce withhold his 
 own tears. He paused a moment. The lilial affec 
 tion of the poor creature, sobbing as if her heart 
 would break before him, touched the tenderest spot 
 in his breast, and, obeying an impulse quite out of 
 character with the Shop, he dived into his pocket, 
 drew forth the scanty purse, and counting down the 
 two and a quarter dollars, dropped the sum into the 
 till, saying as he did so : 
 
 "Well, my good woman, I will redeem it for you" 
 at the same time handing her the treasure. 
 
 A cry of admiration rose from the sad-eyed, blase 
 company. As for the young woman herself, she 
 gazed a moment at Thomas in mute astonishment. 
 Then, attempting to speak her thanks, broke down 
 at every effort; and Thomas, to end the trying scene 
 and not trusting himself to speak, waved her out, 
 with delight and gratitude beaming upon her counte 
 nance. 
 
 The rest were served without noteworthy incident. 
 By 7 the work was over and the door closed. Prom 
 the atmosphere of the Pawn-Shop, tainted by many 
 an ancient odor-bearing bundle, the transition to 
 the Bank was agreeable enough. Late was the hour 
 that saw its unfinished afternoon work done. Yet 
 Thomas did not fail to walk over to The Home to 
 bid his Father good night a sacred daily duty never 
 omitted.
 
 Thomas Ruffin. ^ 133 
 
 On the way, as he ran over the course of the day, 
 the Shop scene was conspicuous. His generosity had 
 stripped him, with not enough left to meet the scant 
 needs of to-morrow. But there were no regrets. He 
 felt better for what he had done. And as for "to 
 morrow," it was not the first time he had trusted it. 
 
 The night was clear and cold, with the wind set 
 tled in the North, and the stars, as usual (for Thomas 
 was a confirmed star-gazer, it has been noted), drew 
 his attention. They shone magnificently. Ruddy 
 Procyon and Betelyeuse beamed like rubies near the 
 zenith. Jupiter ruled resplendent in the western 
 sky. In the southern hemisphere, far below the 
 bands of Orion, Sirius' white light glowed with un 
 rivaled lustre. How beautiful, thought he, are the 
 lights of heaven ! How vast, how wonderful, how 
 glorious these lights ! And what, then, must "the 
 Father of lights" not be !
 
 CHAPTER TX. 
 
 "Rather than not accomplish my Revenge, 
 Just or unjust, I would the world unhinge." 
 
 -Waller. 
 
 There was nothing in Noals' suggestion itself (to 
 take the Banff s funds and mask the theft by an 
 apparent burglary), to which in any sense Black 
 Isaac was opposed, if thought to be necessary or 
 conducive to his interests. A prospect of the de 
 struction of the evidences of debt due the Bank, 
 with more than sufficient cash to replace his perso 
 nal loss, was something, Jndeed. The moral quality 
 of the mode, comparatively nothing. In truth he 
 felt surprise that the scheme had not occurred to 
 himself. The sole points for consideration were : 
 Could a suitable agent be found, and the degree of 
 the risk of discovery. Upon these points Black 
 Isaac sat in his private room and long pondered. 
 The result was satisfactory, seemingly; for his face 
 and manner gradually assumed a less cheerless as 
 pect. He took tea with far more relish than for 
 weeks past smoked his Narghil6 with unusual zest 
 and, by the time Noals returned, was positively in 
 a degree of good humor. The fact was that the 
 Pawnbroker, readily catching at Noals' suggestion,
 
 Thomas Huffin. 
 
 had developed himself a complete scheme of rob 
 bery, with agents chosen and details all arranged. 
 
 Noals was back on the hour, and to his interroga 
 tion : 
 
 "Well, Sir?" 
 
 Black Isaac replied in apparent opposition : 
 
 "It's collecting pigeon's milk, Jimmie Noals. You 
 advise the impossible." 
 
 "Mistaken, Dalguspin!" 
 
 "Your scheme's desperate, Jimmie." 
 
 "So's the situation. I'll eat my old hat" (Noals 
 was as ready to swear by the old hat, as a Turk by 
 his beard), "if it can't be done, Dalguspin. I say 
 we can work it. I say we pull a strong team. We 
 can 'smite the gates of brass and break the bars of 
 iron in sunder.' " 
 
 "Quoting Scripture! He! he! he! I'd as soon 
 expect to see Angels' wings sprout from the backs 
 of politicians." 
 
 "Needn't note what I quote. To the main point, 
 Dalguspin : What say you to it, if it is desperate ?" 
 
 "That it lacks an accomplice." 
 
 "The dickens ! An accomplice ! Are you crazy ? 
 Wouldn't it complicate and add to the hazard?" 
 
 "Probably. But wouldn't it strengthen the no 
 tion of burglary ? 
 
 "Probably. But where could a fit one be found, 
 when we haven't got yet the burglar himself?" 
 
 "I can name him." 
 
 "Who?" 
 
 "Thomas Ruffin, my clerk."
 
 136 Thomas 
 
 Noals arched his eyebrows and gave a shrug. 
 
 "I mean an involuntary accomplice, mind you 
 one we can make to appear so, Jimmie." 
 
 "Ah! that young man 'Tammie' I've heard you 
 call him that pet of yours that most amiable and 
 most excellent clerk ! Ah ! yes involuntary puts 
 another face on it. It's hardly probable he'd be a 
 voluntary helper." 
 
 "Couldn't a money-roll be secreted in old Ruffin's 
 room at The Home, to be found there at the proper 
 moment ? Twelve month ago he was rich. Lost his 
 pile and's gone crazy. Poor now very poor noth 
 ing at all but Son's pay; and I could cut that and 
 put him in straits. There's the motive, you see. 
 Full yesterday to-day, hungering and thirsting. 
 Pinched by want, with the memory of riches yet 
 fresh and green. Poverty's a curse, Jimmie isn't 
 it ? And for him who has had wealth, to shrink at 
 once into its fittings ah me ! ah me ! is a hard and 
 a painful task. There's the motive, Jimmie." 
 
 Prior to his sounding Dalguspin, as related in a 
 preceding chapter, Noals had formed in his own 
 mind a distinct scheme of robbery; but, for the pres 
 ent, held it back. While each had done things more 
 or less "crooked," and while Noals placed a high 
 estimate on the Pawn broker's villainous and vin 
 dictive capacity, the latter had never gone as far as 
 this hint he had thrown out to him, and it was plain 
 wisdom not to divulge the scheme, unless Black 
 Isaac should become committed to the idea. He 
 now perceived that not only had the instigation found
 
 Thomas Ruffm. 
 
 lodgment in the Pawn-broker's mind, but had devel 
 oped there into a scheme of his own, and Noals real 
 ized the necessity, as well as the policy, of giving 
 his scheme consideration at the least. With this 
 end in view, he put the question : 
 
 "You think the old one could be handled easily ?" 
 
 "Crazy and deaf. No trouble." 
 
 "Crazy from losing his pile, I believe ?" 
 
 "Yes a bad case, very bad. A dear deceiving 
 cousin tricked him into a shaky Cotton House down 
 South." 
 
 "Generous soul ! What are we for, Dalguspin, 
 but to help each other !" exclaimed Noals with an 
 air of lofty sentiment. 
 
 "The break was too broad, or the purse was too 
 narrow, and a week after signing the firm John 
 Ruffin found himself without a red." 
 
 "Sad sequel to benevolence. But there's another 
 world, Dalguspin," observed Noals, pointing and 
 looking heavenward with an affectation of piety as 
 complete as it was comical. 
 
 "Certainly, Jimmie Noals, certainly he! he! 
 he !" responded the Pawn-broker, irresistibly amus 
 ed. "Comedian in a role of tragedy." 
 
 "One can but follow his bent." 
 
 "A joke, Noals, will be your last gasp in this 
 world; and your best hope in the next 
 
 "To humor old Nick into gentle treatment. I dare 
 say," Noals interjected. "Well, every man to his 
 making. Now, how about yourTammie?"
 
 138 Thomas Rujj/in. 
 
 "Extrinsically, intrinsically, and personally, he 
 fills the bill." 
 
 "Humph ! Explanations, I take it, are in order." 
 
 "Well, extrinsically, he's a stranger here no 
 acquaintances, no friends, no pulls, you see." 
 
 "So. And intrinsically ?" 
 
 "He's a very gentle sort of somebody gentle, 
 Noals, as the dear ladies." 
 
 "Who are often dear deceivers, I can tell you. 
 Wasn't Epaminandas the bravest, yet the gentlest 
 of men V 
 
 "Confound your philology and hair-splitting. I'll 
 say, then, that intrinsically, he's a very timid sort 
 of somebody." 
 
 "So." 
 
 "And, personally, I hate the youth. He won't 
 co-operate in my little schemes, you see. I've told 
 you about one of 'em." 
 
 "I remember. The block-head! To refuse an 
 opening like that ! He is a green one, or I'll eat the 
 old hat." 
 
 "I tried him,, and hang it! he told me, for my 
 pains, that he'd mistaken my character ! And even 
 threatened to law me !" 
 
 "The blackguard !" 
 
 "I've never before had a clerk to make a fool of 
 me and force me to eat my words, and I've vowed 
 not to forget it. My age will not put up with the 
 codlin's slap, Jimmie." 
 
 "The blatherskite !"
 
 Thomas fiuffin. 139 
 
 "So pious, you know. Such a good, conscientious 
 young man, you know. 
 
 "Why haven't you dismissed the rascal?" 
 
 "Waiting to get even; and here's the chance." 
 
 "Yes, yes," replied Noals, who saw no objection 
 to the Pawn-broker's suggestion, "verily, a kind 
 Providence has preserved him to our hand. If he 
 won't co-operate with you, we'll co-operate with 
 Providence, and I'll devour the ancient chapeau, if 
 'Tammie' doesn't prove a first class silent partner." 
 
 "Very good very good !" 
 
 "And now, Dalguspin, having supplied the tail, 
 suppose you try for the head and name the burglar 
 himself?" 
 
 "Suppose I do?" 
 
 "Well!" 
 
 "He will be you." 
 
 "Sir, you are complimentary." 
 
 "Now, now, Jimmie, do pray don't take me for a 
 Simple Simon, Can't I see all you've said has been a 
 feeler, and that your scheme has been formed around 
 your own self ? Otherwise, it's a folly and no sane 
 man could propose it. You're the very person, 
 Noals. Risk then would be nil. Squealing w r ould 
 be shut out. The burglar, too, should personate 
 William, the watchman, and who so fit for this as 
 yourself. You're about his age and make and size. 
 You know him well his voice, his limp, his man 
 ner. Your mimic powers could re-produce him to a T- 
 All you want is the watchman's garb and a full gray 
 beard, aids easily supplied. Withal, Jimmie, we
 
 140 - Thomas Ituffin. 
 
 should remember the scheme has a moral side, and 
 isn't it the proper thing lie should stand forth to 
 repair the loss, whose damnation luck caused it?" 
 
 "Ah! Dalguspin, you can see very far, if you 
 can't see quite through a mill-stone. Suppose I 
 should have had myself in view suppose I should 
 be willing to go in one thing's certain and sure : / 
 must 7iave the necessary help. That's a point I'm 
 bound to score for myself." 
 
 "Help multiplies risk, Jimmie. The scheme 
 doesn't call for help. Cracksman's skill is not re 
 quired. The keys and all, you've said, would be to 
 hand, the private watchman away, and access to 
 Bank and Safe smooth, without a hindrance. What 
 need for help ? The job's most easy thus : Watch 
 Thomas from the street. By ten he should be 
 through the extra work that night and awaiting 
 Will's return from my house, where I would be de 
 taining him on biz. That's your moment. Enter 
 with duplicate key, while Thomas is within the 
 'cage.' The Bank's light's dim, and as you limp 
 along, like Will, outside the 'cage,' call to him 
 in Will's low tone : 'Mr. Thomas, you can 
 leave now ;' and then make for the rear office. 
 That Thomas should delay or show suspicion, 
 is most unlikely. If he should, at pistol's point 
 gag and nipper him. With keys in hand, a mo 
 ment will then suffice to open Safe, wrench draw 
 ers, scatter their contents, and out, with all the 
 marks of burglary behind. There's but a youth to 
 deal with, Noals. Can't you deal with him alone 'i
 
 Thomas Ruffi.n. 141 
 
 You're far larger, and there's much in size, as you 
 will feel, when you get a wife bigger than yourself." 
 
 "Dalguspin, the second, sober thought says nay. 
 That fellow Thomas may defy the pistol's point. 
 Manners like his often mask a heart of steel. 
 Haven't I told you that Epami ' 
 
 "No, no, Noals," broke in Black Isaac. "No 
 more of 'Epami ;' it's all about 'our Tammie.' 
 Thomas Ruffin defy the pistol's point ! he ! he ! he !" 
 
 "Yes and then to floor and fix him, neatly and 
 without alarm, would need another's aid." 
 
 "Two men, to floor and fix Thomas Ruflin ! he ! 
 he! he!" 
 
 "Besides : Will, the Watchman, may return too 
 soon, or loungers may imperil the exits. There must 
 be some one on guard outside, to hold the Watchman 
 in a chat, if need be, and give me warning how best 
 to leave, whether by front or rear. If cracksmen, 
 whose art we are simulating " 
 
 "Simulating!" again broke in Black Isaac, with 
 his low little laugh. "Good, Jimmie !" 
 
 "Yes, Sir ! yes, Sir ! I say simulating; for 
 
 We're simply borrowing money in a certain way, 
 
 As many an honest man has done, and is doing to-day " 
 
 "True ! true ! Jimmie," interjected the Pawn 
 broker. "He! he! he!" 
 
 "If cracksmen never single handed boss a job 
 like this, hasn't a novice greater need of aid ! How 
 answer tlutt argument?" 
 
 O I don't believe in argument, Noals." 
 
 "In what then ?"
 
 142 Thomas Ruffln. 
 
 "Intuitions, Sir; and one tells me it's time to 
 drink." Dalguspin rings. 
 
 "Whiskey and cigars, Robert." 
 
 Robert retires, and directly re-enters with the 
 "things." Noals pours a glass, and, sniffing it, re 
 marks : 
 
 "Good liquor this, Dalguspin." 
 
 "What's better than Old Rapp in its teens <!" 
 
 "Why, Old Rapp in my gills, to be sure," re 
 sponded Noals, as he drained the glass. 
 
 "Trim, fine fellow Robert seems to be," observed 
 Noals, as the servant-man retires. 
 
 "Yes he's a character. Educated, intelligent, 
 gentlemanly handy, witty, spunky. You know 
 how I got him." 
 
 "I remember. A sort o' Sam Weller, he." 
 
 "Yes but I'm getting afraid of him." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 "O it seems he's a butt cut of original sin such 
 a dare-devil, from his own account been every 
 where and in all kinds of scrapes done the Wild 
 West, and took a hand in adventure of every sort- 
 worked sailor's passage to South America, and after 
 roaming up and down and across that continent, 
 turned up in Mexico and Texas, and must have been 
 a regular 'fighting Bob' at San Jacinto; for he shows 
 scars from a dozen wounds received, he says, in that 
 battle; and altogether I'm half afraid I've got a 
 Cow-boy or Bandit, watching for an opportunity." 
 
 "You've spoken to me somewhat of Bob's life be 
 fore, and do you know while I've been revolving
 
 Thomas Muffin. 14 3 
 
 our scheme, I've been thinking of him as a possible 
 confed?" 
 
 "Robert ! Gracious me ! Why, Robert is about 
 to leave ! His special service to me is over, and, 
 with a roving spirit still, he intends, just as soon as 
 I can fill his place, to take the road again." 
 
 "That much the better, Dalguspin, for our pur 
 pose. By jingo ! events are so shaping to our hand, 
 that our scheme begins to look like a special provi 
 dence." 
 
 "Robert a confed ! Well, well! That's to be 
 thought on, too, Noals. If he could be induced to 
 leave the country !" added Black Isaac reflectively. 
 
 "Anyhow, disguised as a cracksman, let me sound 
 him and report." 
 
 The Pawn-broker pauses to reply : 
 
 "But use every care, Jimmie, and decide nothing 
 till you see me." 
 
 "Certainly. Depend on me. Disguises and tricks 
 are somewhat in my line. I'd lay a wager I could 
 gammon even your own sharp eyes." 
 
 "I've no money now to try luck with. If I had, 
 I'd up with it against so luckless a fellow as thou." 
 
 "Egad! the Banker shows a short memory. He 
 forgets the hits, and that himself, too, pressed this 
 latter venture; and if it has miscarried, haven't I 
 shown how we may recoup ? But to biz : Touching 
 Bob, I should really like to be sure, Dalguspin, 
 since I need a practiced hand, that he has been all 
 the dare-devil he makes claim to." 
 
 "We can but take his word."
 
 144 Thomas JRuffin. 
 
 "Aha! Eat my old hat, but I have it," exclaimed 
 Noals after a moment's thought. 
 
 "What?" 
 
 "A way to test him." 
 
 "How?" 
 
 "You say he has been in Texas ?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "And a Cow-boy?" 
 
 "So he states." 
 
 "Well there's no Cow-boy who can't give the 
 Texas Yell. That I'll swear to; arid I know the 
 Yell, besides. I heard it once, and never shall for 
 get it." 
 
 "Yes, yes I see, I see. We'll try Robert." 
 
 The Pawn-broker rings and Robert enters. At a 
 motion from the former, Robert takes up the waiter 
 and is in the act of leaving with the "things," when 
 Black Isaac observes, as if accidentally : 
 
 "Here, Robert, a moment. There's a little favor 
 you must do us." 
 
 "Yes, Sir," replied Robert, turning and replacing 
 the waiter on the table. 
 
 "You say you've been in Texas ?'' 
 
 "Yes, Sir." 
 
 "Among the Cow-boys?" 
 
 "Yes, Sir." 
 
 "And a Cow-boy yourself, I believe you told me ?" 
 
 "Yes, Sir." 
 
 "Now, Robert, the Texas Yell is something we've 
 often heard of, yet never heard. Let us have one, a 
 real good one, Robert."
 
 Thomas Ruffin. 145 
 
 Robert made ready, stooping and twisting his 
 body, and gave forth a loud, a long, a wild, wierd 
 whoop. Whereupon Noals cried out : 
 
 "Very well done ! A genuine Texas Yell." 
 
 "And I think, by George, it has waked up h 11," 
 exclaimed Black Isaac, as a great noise outside 
 smote his ear. 
 
 "All the household are on us pell-mell," chimed 
 in Robert. And they all, indeed, came bursting in, 
 the housekeeper with pistol, cook with carving- 
 knife, scullion with broom-stick, &c., &c., and all 
 shouting together : 
 
 "Gracious Heavens ! What was that ? Thought 
 they were murdering you !" 
 
 "No! no!" the Pawn-broker reassured them. 
 "Robert is acting the Cow-boy. No danger, no 
 danger except to Robert's lungs. He ! he ! he ! 
 Whoop it up again, Robert." 
 
 And again the fearful yell shook the chamber; 
 and Noals winked hard at the Pawn-broker, as 
 much as to say : 
 
 "He'll do." 
 
 10
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 WITH A PRESCRIPTION FOR DYSPEPSIA. 
 
 The indenture binding Thomas Ruffin to Dalgus- 
 pin, included no definite terms touching pay, the 
 clause relating thereto stating simply that ''the sec 
 ond party aforesaid, in consideration of* inexperi 
 ence, agrees that his salary shall depend on the 
 character of the services rendered." The wily 
 Pawn-broker explained, to Thomas' satisfaction at 
 the time, that to an ambitious young man a contin 
 gent salary of this sort, was much to be preferred 
 to a fixed sum. So far, therefore, Thomas was un 
 der the thumb of the Pawnbroker, and the latter 
 began to bear down. On the plea of financial pres 
 sure he had cut the wage to the extent of a half 
 dollar, making it one dollar per week. 
 
 Thomas spoke of the matter to Friend Peale, but 
 his sensitiveness refused a revelation of his real 
 condition. Friend Peale knew, as he thought, that 
 Thomas could not be living on one dollar per week, 
 leaving out of view the little extras he provided 
 his Father, and supposed he must have some
 
 Thomas Ruffin. 147 
 
 source of means unknown to him an opinion in 
 which he was confirmed by Thomas' refusing the aid 
 he more than once offered. He did not press in 
 quiry touching his means ; for it was a topic which 
 the shrinking Thomas seemed to wish to avoid. But 
 one thing he plainly perceived, that Thomas was 
 out of sorts, a prey to some secret disturbing influ 
 ence of recent origin, apparently. Whatever might 
 be the cause or causes, in one direction he felt there 
 was certainty, that Dalguspinwas treating him most 
 unjustly, and the warm-hearted Quaker, for the sec 
 ond time, sought out the BanJcer and remonstrated. 
 Black Isaac replied that he was learning the young 
 man bookkeeping, and that he was getting the 
 worth of his services. And when Friend Peale re 
 minded him of the encomiums he had bestowed on 
 Thomas at the beginning, and that he did not now 
 allege a lowered efficiency, Black Isaac's reply was 
 so unsatisfactory, that the indignant Quaker gave 
 him a very sharp piece of his mind. 
 
 The fact was that Thomas Ruffin was in want. Of 
 his expenses he kept a most exact detailed account, 
 and actually reduced the per diem for food to less 
 than 12 cents. With bread (he would cut the loaf 
 into just ten slices) at five cents, sugar at four cents, 
 eggs at eighteen, butter at twenty, a package of 
 corn starch at five, and milk at four cents a pint, 
 the outlay (exact to the fraction of a cent) for a cer 
 tain day, veritably taken as an average from the 
 diary preserved in his family, was as follows :
 
 148 Thomas Jtuffin. 
 
 BREAKFAST. 
 
 1 boiled egg, 1 1-2 cts. 
 
 2 slices of bread, - - 1 " 
 
 ^ ounce butter. 5-8 " 
 
 Cnp o, content { \ *W; - ' - ' W * 1 1 M 
 
 4 3-8 ct, 
 
 DINNER. 
 
 fl egg, - - - 11-2 cts. ^ 
 
 1 gill milk, . - - 1 M cts 
 
 1 spoonful corn starcb, 1-4 " ( 6 
 1 onnce sugar, - - 1-4 " J 
 
 2 slices bread, - - - 1 " 
 
 1-2 ounce butter, 5-8 4 3-8 cts. 
 
 SUPPER. 
 
 Cnp of content, j } uU - ' - ' 1-^ } 1 1-4 ct 8 . 
 1 slice bread, - - - 1-2 " 
 
 1-4 ounce butter - - - 5-16 " 2 1-16 cts 
 
 11 1-16 cts. 
 
 While the fact is unquestionable that Thomas Ruf- 
 fin actually did support himself on such a mite, it 
 should be added that he did not fall at once to these 
 figures. Experimenting he found he could subsist 
 on less and less, and finally got down to the above 
 the infinitesimal, one might say and discovered he 
 could live and labor. Americans should note the 
 fact, nation of spendthrifts and dyspeptics, as well 
 as of tourists. We eat from habit, not from need, 
 and by the matured body in moderate exercise, small, 
 indeed, is the amount of food required. 
 
 In this discipline of pabulum Thomas' main stay 
 was the special loaf he used, bought of one Arthur 
 touching whom it may be said, that if his bakery 
 had one aspect, its products had quite another. The 
 former was a narrow, short, old-fashioned, neglected- 
 looking, three-story brick affair, squatting betwixt 
 two towering modern structures, with the upper
 
 TJiomas Ruffin. 149 
 
 stories for a domicile, the basement for the bakers 
 and the ovens, and the front first floor apartment for 
 the Shop a little, dingy, uninviting room, 24 by 15 
 feet. Here, however, the dark features end. All 
 the rest is bright. Arthur's Shop was famous. He 
 had a great run of high-class customers, used the 
 best material, employed the best bakers, and sold 
 over the counters unequalled loaves, at the hands, 
 too, of employees, it can be added, exceptionally 
 engaging. These were two ladies whose physical 
 characteristics differed considerably. For if one 
 suggested rather a spear than a dumpling, the other 
 suggested rather a dumpling than a spear. But 
 each was so genteel in appearance, and so thorough 
 ly lady-like and obliging, and the delivery so gra 
 cious, that the fine loaves from their hands really 
 acquired an additional attraction. 
 
 The loaf Thomas had been recommended to buy, 
 and which he did buy^ a rare loaf in those days, a 
 loaf difficult to make well, and whose excellency 
 was one of Arthur's prides, was the Bran loaf, giving 
 the full force of the wheat berry. He soon came to 
 prefer it to any other bread, in the matter of taste 
 even, the bite was so substantial and satisfactory; 
 and it proved the young man's salvation. Without 
 its bowel-regulating and tissue-forming and all round 
 supporting qualities, the relentless fast, it is almost 
 certain, must have ended disastrously. 
 
 But, to be sure, Arthur's shelves and counters held 
 other good things. There were crullers so rich and 
 brown and there were cakes, of every size and shape
 
 150 Thomas Ruflin. 
 
 and shade and variety, from the penny-pound, up 
 and there were pies of all sorts, from master hands, 
 fresh every day, plump and full-measured, and till 
 ing the little room with dainty, toothsome odors. 
 
 But all this Thomas had to pass by. It involved 
 effort, no doubt. In his circumstances it was, with 
 out question, a serious matter, this passing of Arthur, 
 so to speak. Dear reader, please allow the setting 
 down of a thought occurring to us just here, and for 
 which we assume full responsibility, that the pass 
 ing of Arthur was serious whether it be Sir Bedi- 
 vere with strained and tearful eye watching from 
 the crag's summit the dusky barge on its way to the 
 "happy island-valley of Avilion, where the wind 
 lies deep-meadowed," till the black hull becomes a 
 vanishing point on the mere or the fasting Thomas 
 in the aroma of this famed pastry Shop, and unable 
 to go beyond the tantalizings of the eye and the 
 nose. 
 
 There was one indulgence, however, Thomas Ruflin 
 occasionally permitted himself He would sometimes 
 be in the Shop about Jl a. m., the hour when the 
 dusty baker boy was accustomed to bring up from 
 below the great trays of hot buns, with the currents 
 all sticking out of them like so many tempting little 
 black eyes. They were not dear, yet fine two for 
 a penny and Thomas now and then would buy. 
 
 One other little indulgence must be mentioned. 
 On market days (it will be remembered there was a 
 famous market near the Bank} Thomas would watch 
 his chance to step out a moment for a glass of fresh
 
 Thomas Ruljin. 151 
 
 country butter-milk that is, as often as he could 
 spare a penny. The market man he patronized was 
 one Smith, acquaintance with whose goods he made 
 under these circumstances : 
 
 In one of his first visits to the market his atten 
 tion was drawn by a huckster soliciting for aspara 
 gus or "grass," as usually called by the market 
 men. His cries were especially shrill and assertive, 
 and the vegetable itself had an interest of its own; 
 for asparagus had been both a famous growth and a 
 favorite dish at Cloud Cap. Thinking it odd to see 
 it offered in Winter, he stopped; and to his inquiry, 
 the huckster replied, that it was cut from hot house 
 force beds, and then went on shouting his cries : 
 
 "Sparagrass ! Sparagrass ! Come up, Ladies and 
 Gentlemen, and see Dr. Dorsey's celebrated, O. K., 
 A No. 1, perfection Sparagrass-^ 
 
 Raised under the glass 
 Best of its class 
 Good for lad and lass " 
 
 (and then with a wink at Thomas' ear) 
 
 "To make the humors pass." 
 
 "Got it from old Smith over there," said the 
 huckster, replying with a grin to Thomas' amused 
 expression. Thomas glanced "over there," and see 
 ing an uncommon press : 
 
 "What means that ?" he asked of the huckster. 
 
 "That old Smith sells a genuine article." 
 
 And so Thomas found out. For, if Smith was 
 capable of palming off for his own Dean Swift's 
 triplet (with some variation), he undoubtedly sold
 
 162 Thomas Ruffm. 
 
 high grade goods 'at first hand, and had a great 
 reputation. 
 
 Smith was an old-fashioned countryman of drawl 
 ing speech, who thrice a week drove to the city, and 
 bracing the front wheels of his great wagon on the 
 curb-stones outside the market-house, with tongue 
 tied up and team tethered at the side, from the 
 wagon's rear, stretched out on supporting poles an 
 extended canvas, with ample wings, beneath which 
 were arranged the tables, with their snowy cover 
 ings, displaying baskets of the cleanest eggs, and 
 ripe luscious fruits, and churns all scrubbed till 
 they shown again of ice cold milk and butter-milk, 
 and tubs of smear-case, and pails of the nicest but- 
 ter prints, and, in season, great freezers of ice cream, 
 &c., &c. Though aided by wife and stalwart son-in- 
 law and two helps, to serve the constant throng was 
 all that Smith could do. He slipped money into his 
 purse, Smith did; and would slip himself too often, 
 it is feared into a little groggery near by, the old 
 man's only fault. Smith soon learned to know his 
 customer, and at sight of Thomas began to prepare 
 for him. A deep and ample old-styled tumbler three- 
 fourths filled with fresh country butter-milk, into 
 this a gill of sweet cream, and, on warm days, a 
 lump of ice ye gods ! what a drink it was to Thomas! 
 And all for a penny ! 
 
 These were the solitary self-indulgences, if they 
 can be called so, Thomas Ruffin permitted himself. 
 The ordinary recreations of young men, even the 
 most self-restrained, of course were all closed out-
 
 TJiomas Ruffin. 153 
 
 The many little individual wants, outside of bare 
 subsistence really often in the nature of necessaries 
 were all closed out. True, there was the one dollar 
 Sister Jessica brought for the chair (and it came in 
 most opportunely); but it was a dollar and no more. 
 True, there was the sum of seventeen dollars (out of 
 the orignal five hundred) to his credit in the Savings 
 Bank (not Dalguspin's, by the way); but he had 
 resolved wisely not to touch this, save under the 
 extremest circumstances, the most dire necessity. 
 True, Friend Peale (as has been said) repeatedly 
 pressed upon him aid; but he could not accept what 
 he saw no way of returning from one, too, who, as 
 Thomas knew, had just sustained business losses. 
 No doubt his sensitiveness here carried him too far; 
 since Friend Peale was well able to bear the losses. 
 But Thomas chose his path. And truly the young 
 man was put to it. 
 
 To such a regimen and circumstances the physical 
 organism must ultimately have yielded; and Thomas 
 knew and felt it. But, a few months would see the 
 end of service to Black Isaac. And Friend Peale 
 already had in view for him more than one position 
 where pay and surroundings would be of another 
 sort. If all this was encouraging, Thomas drew fur 
 ther support from a sense of supreme duty done to 
 his Father. There were many little wants The Home 
 did not supply his Father many little extras that 
 gave his Father pleasure. For instance, frequently 
 he would ask Thomas for small coin, to give, he 
 said, to the "poor beggars" he would meet in the
 
 164 Thomas Muffin. 
 
 Park, or on his walks (for he was beginning now to 
 make short strolls by himself). To answer these 
 and other little demands, Thomas at first drew upon 
 the bank reserve, hoping soon to merit such an in 
 crease of pay as to be able to answer them from this 
 latter source. When the pay was docked and the 
 bank reserve had sunk below the safety point, to 
 less than a score of dollars, none of these supplies 
 would Thomas cut off, though it brought his own 
 subsistence nigh to the vanishing point. To have 
 done so would have roused suspicion in his Father's 
 mind and almost inevitably unmasked his position 
 and circumstances. His Father's enjoyments, too, 
 were so few and simple, and bore so materially on 
 the progress of improvement. He could not deprive 
 him of any, the least, of these. Had he not been 
 the tenderest, the most loving of fathers ? Through 
 all the years gone by, had he not yearned over him, 
 the centre of all his thought, solicitude, and activi 
 ties 1 And in the day of darkness, with no light in 
 his eyes, save as he looked up to him so trustfully 
 for support and care, shall not affection's debt be 
 paid to the uttermost farthing \ Yes, yes joyfully 
 will he take hungerings and thirstings and whatever 
 besides, to add aught of ease to his Father's lot. 
 
 What gave Thomas concern was the fear he should 
 be unable to conceal from his Father the actual state 
 of affairs. He watched himself and made it a point 
 never to appear otherwise than cheerful in his Fath 
 er's presence. Over-worked and under-fed as he was, 
 the dear fellow kept a bright face. Whatever depress-
 
 Thomas Ruffin. 155 
 
 ing influences might exist, whether drawn from ap 
 prehension touching Dalguspin, or from a straight 
 ened living, or any other condition or circumstance, 
 he did not allow an outward manifestation. Often 
 he would carry to The Home bills from the Bank 
 and count them over evasively, as it were, yet so 
 that his Father would see them and feel that he was 
 not wanting funds. 
 
 There was one direction, however, in which little 
 innocent deceptions of this sort were impracticable. 
 There was no method for concealing the tangible 
 results of rigorous and continued fasting. His by 
 no means was a fattening regimen. He showed none 
 of that physical degeneration known as corpulency, 
 so common a blotch on this high civilization of ours, 
 whereof many of us are getting tired. Evidently 
 his body was losing weight his cheeks becoming 
 hollowed and paler; and there were no means of dis 
 guising it from the searching observation which his 
 Father's supreme affection and morbid apprehen 
 sions constantly maintained over him. As he fear 
 ed, the first symptom of a change John Ruffin was 
 quick to notice and anxiously remark upon. Thomas 
 tried to laugh it off. In vain. His Father grew 
 more and more disquieted. The change, as it went 
 on, appeared all the more marked to John Ruffin, 
 because he saw Thomas fairly but once a week, Sun 
 day. There was another circumstance, too, that 
 seemed peculiar to his Father, and, in connection 
 with the thinning process, deepened anxiety. As 
 has been stated in this narrative, Thomas passed
 
 156 Thomas Muffin. 
 
 Thursday night with his Father and invariably 
 shared his Father's supper, as he did all the Sunday 
 meals ( it may be observed, that, on these occasions, 
 Sabina, whose warm friendship Thomas had se 
 cured, was sure to smuggle on the plates extra por 
 tions ); and what seemed of late so strange to John 
 Ruffin, was, that Thomas though the latter endeav 
 ored to control himself and be on guard against un 
 usual and suspicious action should get at the food 
 with such eagerness. The old gentleman wondered. 
 He never had seen his soon eat so before. And here 
 he was, too, with such an appetite, getting thinner 
 and thinner ! Thomas could see his Father's grow 
 ing distress of mind which by cheerfulness of de 
 meanor and in every other way, he sought vainly to 
 allay. At length, there came one day a burst of 
 lamentation from John Ruffin, that his son was 
 diseased and must have treatment. 
 
 Thomas declared such a thing would be absurd 
 that his Father was entirely mistaken that his 
 health was all right; and, to confirm the statement, 
 fell upon an expedient that proved a boomerang. On 
 the way to The Home one Thursday night, bethink 
 ing himself how it would please his Father to appear 
 in the hue as well as with the substance of health, 
 he vigorously applied to his face new fallen snow (a 
 recipe for pallor, as he had been told), and entered 
 his Father's room with cheeks as red as cherries. 
 John Ruffin at first did not know what to make of it. 
 He gazed at Thomas in mute astonishment. Then be 
 came frightened and broke out into wailings, declar-
 
 Thomas Ruffin. 157 
 
 ing Thomas had a fever and that a Doctor must be sent 
 for. Thomas entreated his Father, explaining that 
 the flush was the natural result of cold (and in truth 
 it was a wintry night), and no cause whatever for 
 alarm. John Ruffin appeared to be satisfied. But 
 when presently the brilliant bloom passed off, and 
 reaction left the cheeks paler than before, he began 
 to make a great to do again; and again was Thomas 
 obliged to entreat and explain how it was all the 
 effect of cold and reaction, and asked his Father how 
 he could reconcile ill health with his uniform cheer 
 fulness of spirit. 
 
 John Ruffin finally concluded that all the trouble 
 lay at the root of overwork; and Thomas promised, 
 that, if matters did not go on to his satisfaction, he 
 would give up his position at the Bank in a month 
 or so that other positions just as good, if not better, 
 had been offered him already, and would continue to 
 be open to him any moment he might choose to ac 
 cept them having in mind Friend Peale's good 
 offices in his behalf. This had a quieting effect. 
 Meanwhile, John Ruffin' s opinion of the Banker 
 rapidly changed. In fact, a sentiment of animosity 
 began to take root. 
 
 The personal attentions Thomas gave his Father 
 were of the most devoted character. During the 
 day, at meal hours, he would often, though with 
 great inconvenience, run over to The Home a mo 
 ment ; and every evening he made it a point to bid 
 his Father good night. It was a sacred duty, he felt, 
 and never omitted, however late the hour that saw
 
 158 Thomas Ruffin. 
 
 his release from work, and whatever might be the 
 state of the weather. And whenever he foresaw that 
 duties at the Panic would detain him beyond the 
 usual time, he took the precaution to convey, or 
 have conveyed, to his Father word to that effect, to 
 avoid the distressing anxiety which he knew his 
 Father, in his peculiar state of mind, would be sure 
 to feel. And John Ruffin always would have a light 
 at the window, to let Thomas know he was expecting 
 him, either up or abed. On these occasions, when 
 Thomas came in early and the weather was pleasant, 
 he would walk out with his Father, at first generally 
 in the Park or Square near by, and then further and 
 further forth, as his Father's health and strength 
 showed signs of improvement. 
 
 His life was solitary and manifested on its upper 
 plane, as a duty first, not a pleasure, not a gain. 
 Work at the desk and attentions to his Father ab 
 sorbed every moment. And amidst these duties 
 disquieting his life with its uncertainties there was 
 a burning thought constant in his mind. That af 
 fection does not fade under the influence of absence, 
 was clear in his case. The thought was of Amy 
 Sanford. It was a deepening, as well as a constant, 
 thought. Where could she be .? What was she do 
 ing ? he would be asking himself repeatedly. He 
 knew she was an orphan and moneyless, and that, 
 on the score of health, she had left New Orleans and 
 gone North, to fill a position of some sort. He had 
 had a notion that she might be in this very city, 
 since she had attended school here. But her name
 
 Thomas Ruffin. 159 
 
 was not in the directory, and Friend Peale could 
 give no information. Over and again had he written 
 to the address of her Grandmother (Aunt Sanford), 
 without replies. Was she dead, too ? He had sent 
 letters, likewise, to the surviving members of the 
 late House of Thomas Sanford & Co., but all in vain. 
 Heart-heavy he suspended the search for want of a 
 clue. The thought of Amy, however, still grew. 
 The location of the school where his cousin had 
 studied, was one of the first inquiries he made of 
 Friend Peale after reaching the city; and invariably 
 in his walks, whenever he could possibly make them 
 suburban, he would take in this school and linger 
 near it. Nor scarcely would a day pass and not see 
 him take out the little silver locket with the Moss 
 bud, that she had given him. Of nights, too, many a 
 time would he wake with the locket in his hand and 
 dwell fondly upon its memories. 
 
 So come and go the days, completely filled. Rarely 
 did he visit even the Peale residence. No time for 
 it. Often, however, he saw the hearty Quaker who 
 felt and manifested the warmest interest in him. 
 Every day or so Friend Peale would drop in at the 
 Bank about dusk, after Black Isaac had left. It 
 was the hour, too, for Sandy Johnson's frequent 
 visits, and often would the three be together. Be 
 yond these Thomas Ruffin knew no one socially, it 
 may be said. He held converse with few was in 
 the world, not of it, as it were. Much was he by 
 himself, communing with himself, weighing present 
 responsibilities and how to meet them, and so led on
 
 160 ' Thomas Ru^in. 
 
 and on to revolving the further and deeper problems 
 of life. It was a lifting influence to Thomas, who 
 thus followed, if afar off, those illustrious spirits 
 that have gathered power in seclusion. The silent 
 communings of Manresa ennobled St. Ignatius; and 
 was it not from the cloisters of Citeaux and Clair- 
 vaux that St. Bernard drew the strength that made 
 him the oracle of Christendom \ Great souls are 
 formed in solitude.
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 A DISCOVERY. 
 
 It was Thursday, to John Ruffin one of the two 
 bright days of the week. Thomas was to be with 
 him that night. All day long he had worked hard 
 to finish a chair for Sandy Johnson. The Shoemaker 
 was to call for it that evening. Pressed for time he 
 had refused to allow Sabina to u do" his room at the 
 usual morning hour. Towards the afternoon's close 
 the chair was finished, and to relieve Ms cramped 
 body the old gentleman walked out, notwithstanding 
 the lowering weather. Scarcely had he gone, when 
 Sister Jessica called. She left flowers, saying she 
 might call again, on her way back before dark, if 
 the weather permitted. Miss Kitty, finding John 
 Ruffin out, hurried up Sabina to make use of the 
 chance to "do" the room, and not knowing how long 
 he had been gone, and fearing his return before the 
 room was done, or properly done, especially since 
 of late he had been complaining causelessly, no 
 doubt 'about his room, she presently followed Sa 
 bina, to stimulate her work. 
 
 "Dust up, Sabina, dust up," she said with an 
 
 11
 
 162 Thomas Ruffin. 
 
 accent somewhat of reprimand, as she entered the 
 room and found Sabina had not been as brisk as she 
 might have been. 
 
 "Yes'm, Miss Kitty, I is dustin' up, an' de dus' is 
 all up my nose, too," replied Sabina, dusting vigor 
 ously, and confirming her nasal declaration by a 
 succession of very violent reports and sneezings. 
 
 Miss Kitty stood a moment in a degree of aston 
 ishment at these remarkable explosions, remarkable 
 even for Sabina then observed : 
 
 "If ye'd been doin' yer duty, ye'd been through, 
 and yer nose would niver be a dust-hole." 
 
 "Yes'm, Miss Kitty," Sabina responded, energet 
 ically plying the brush, and accompanying the stim 
 ulated duty with one of her peculiar and expressive 
 guffaws. 
 
 "Misther Ruffin's been spaking about his room." 
 
 "Yes'm, Miss Kitty." 
 
 "Dust up well, Sabina," repeated the House 
 keeper, but in a softened and encouraging tone, as 
 she turned towards the door, retiring after the simil 
 itude of good wine, that leaves a pleasant farewell 
 on the lips. 
 
 "Yes'm, Miss Kitty, yes'm," was the iterated as 
 surance of the negress, as she dusted away with yet 
 quickened vigor and renewed guffaws; for apparently 
 she was so abundantly stocked with these explosives, 
 that a very little effort brought forth, as it were, an 
 involuntary discharge. 
 
 Sabina having reconnoitered the door and finding 
 Miss Kitty was not watching outside, for the moment
 
 Thomas Ruffin. 163 
 
 ceased "doing" and dusting, to examine the pictures. 
 She had heard and she really felt the story of John 
 Ruffin's life, and both himself and Thomas had a 
 warm place in her heart. She cpuld see they had 
 been "grand folks" as she termed it. An air of 
 gentle blood was manifest in Thomas, and his Father, 
 even in his present afflicted condition, gave abund 
 ant evidence of the high strung Southern gentleman 
 of the old regime. Then, too, the unusual consid 
 eration shown John Ruffin through, the Peale influ 
 ence the spacious room assigned him, the peculiar 
 privileges allowed naturally tended to advance the 
 Ruffins further in Sabina's estimation. She consid 
 ered The Home distinguished by their presence, and 
 herself honored as being the servant especially in 
 charge. In rendering service she was ever ready and 
 most amiable, and John Ruffin, as before has been 
 intimated, became really attached to her. These 
 pictures on the walls he had explained to Sabina 
 from time to time, and, as representative of his past 
 life, they possessed for her an irresistible attraction. 
 While "doing" the room, day after day, she never 
 seemed to tire of examining them, with a running- 
 comment enlivened by the guffaws with which it was 
 her wont to emphasise her opinions and sentiments; 
 and this particular day did not prove an exception, 
 though the work had been so hurried up. 
 
 "Dese picturs, dey tells me," she said, looking 
 up, " is where de ol' man lived way down Souf. Dey 
 calls dis" examining the first print "Cloud Cap. 
 Don't see any cloud, only house" a guffaw point-
 
 164 Thomas Ruffin. 
 
 ing her criticism. "Mighty fine house, though, in de 
 trees an' flowers. An' dis" examining the second 
 print "dey says, is his cotton patch. Sakes alive ! 
 how de niggurs is a pickin 1 ob de cotton !" a peal 
 ing guffaw, enough to have brought back Miss Kitty, 
 signalizing her amusement. "An' dis" third print 
 "is de rice patch. An' dis" fourth print "de 
 sugar mill. So rich ! so rich ! an' now here at de, 
 Home, gone crazy an' a bottomin' cheers ! Lord ha' 
 mercy ! No money, no sense, no nuthin' ter help 
 him, but he son Thomas, an' him so tender like ! 
 Trouble, trouble, dey tells me, made him go crazy. 
 My ! my ! my ! dis worl' ! dis worl' ! 
 
 Dat shoemaker, Sandy Johnson, brings dis here 
 cheer here" dusting the chair as she speaks "to 
 be bottomed. An' I heerd 'm say Mr. Thomas buys 
 dese ol' cheers at auction-house, an' den gits Sandy 
 Johnson ter bring 'm here, an' den gives de money 
 ter Sandy ter pay for de bottom, an' den Sandy he 
 give Mr. Thomas' money ter Mr. Ruffin, jes' ter 
 'muse him like an' make him think he's helpin' ter 
 git along. I'm buyin' shucks fur him all de time, 
 an' all de time, day an' night, he's a twistin' and a 
 twistin' de splits, 'cause he say, he wants ter help 
 Mr. Thomas to git along. Sandy Johnson say he 
 knowed him at de ol' home, but he won't let him 
 fin' it out, 'cause he say, he don't like ter see he ol' 
 friends. Funny!" she added, as another guffaw 
 roundly asserted her sense of the whimsical. 
 
 While indulging in these reflections, Sabina was
 
 Thomas liuflin. 166 
 
 busy all the time dusting and tidying the room. As 
 she turned to the table the flowers Sister Jessica 
 had just left, attracted attention. She had dis 
 covered that almost every posy contained, among 
 others, a certain kind of flower, and had found out, 
 by inquiry of Miss Kitty and others, that this flower 
 was the Moss Rose, She had noticed, further, that 
 Thomas Ruffin all the while would be wearing these 
 Mosses. Now, by no manner of means was Sabina 
 an intellectual character, yet was she not without 
 some faculty of reason, and having put the above 
 facts together she had drawn a significant conclusion 
 touching the supposed relations of Thomas and 
 Sister Jessica. A pleasing conclusion to her it was; 
 for the Sister, too, had won the negro woman by the 
 gracious consideration she invariably showed her. 
 The latter had a fixed notion that a voice so sweet 
 and a manner so gentle could belong only to a charm 
 ing young lady; and, knowing nothing touching the 
 celibate vows of sisterhood, the profane opinion had 
 gotten into her noddle that "Miss Jessie" (as she 
 designated her, after John Ruffin' s manner of 
 address; for she had declared, sealing the declara 
 tion with a decided guffaw, that "dis here nigger 
 ain't a gwine fur ter call dat Lady Sister") ought 
 to be, in Sabina' s vernacular, somebody's jularkie. 
 
 "I'll bet dat sweet Miss Jessie brought dese," was 
 Sabina' s emphatically expressed opinion, as she 
 placed the duster on the table to examine the flowers. 
 
 "She's allus bringin' flowers. An' I b'lieve Mr. 
 Thomas is makin' up ter her, I does" with
 
 166 Thomas Ruffm. 
 
 one of her amorous guffaws, as low and tender 
 and bewitching as she could make that mode of ex 
 pression. "Looks so to me. Dare is one flower allus 
 in her bunch, Moss Roses. Here it be" examin 
 ing flowers. "Dat mus' be her flower. An' den I 
 see Mr. Thomas, all de time now, wid Moss Roses 
 in he button-hole. Looks ter me like he's gwine 'to 
 set up to her" saluting the iterated sentiment with 
 another guffaw of the same tender sort of character. 
 
 "Dis'll do, I reckons," Sabina remarked, survey 
 ing the room and feeling satisfied with the results of 
 broom and duster. 
 
 It was directly after her leaving that Thomas Ruffm 
 came in, by the private entrance. The flowers im 
 mediately caught his eye, and he knew Sister Jessica 
 had called. Her last posy had particularly attracted 
 him, containing, as it did, a full blown Luxembourg 
 Moss and a Comtesse de Murinais Moss bud, most 
 beautiful specimens of the choicest varieties, the 
 former a brilliant carmine, the latter pure white- 
 blooms so exceptionally lovely and with associations 
 so dear, that Thomas had composed some lines upon 
 them. He noticed, too, that this posy included cer 
 tain exact similitudes of those in the last that is, a 
 full-blown Luxembourg and a Comtesse de Murinais 
 bud, and, having transferred them to a button-hole, 
 he was engaged on a note to his Father, telling him 
 he had stepped over to say extra work would make 
 him two hours late, when Sabina entered and an 
 nounced "Miss Jessie" in the receiving room. 
 
 If a surprise to Thomas Saturday uniformly had
 
 Thomas Ruffin. 167 
 
 been the Sister's visiting day it was an agreeable 
 one, and Thomas then and there decided to take half 
 an hour from his desk, and seize the opportunity, so 
 long and so much desired, of meeting this Sister. 
 He requested Sabina, therefore, to ask her in. 
 
 She entered. Thomas introduced himself. The 
 Sister glanced around for John Ruffin, when Thomas 
 informed her his Father had walked out, that he 
 must certainly be back presently, and asked her to 
 please be seated and wait a few moments particu 
 larly as he wished himself to speak to her. He did 
 not offer his hand, having heard it was against cus 
 tom, if not against a rule, for a religeuse to receive 
 the hand of a man. In subdued tone the Sister 
 spoke of its being late and time's pressing, and could , 
 give. him, she said, a few moments only, taking, as. 
 she spoke, a seat apart and in silence. The bearing 
 of man towards woman, as essentially distinguished 
 from that of man towards man, is marked by a pe 
 culiar softness, a delicacy and a reserve, which is 
 sexual and inherent; and if before men Thomas 
 Ruffin was a retiring character, much more was he 
 thus, under ordinary conditions, in the presence of 
 women. Yet his behavior on this occasion was com 
 paratively free. The circumstances were excep 
 tional. His Father had spoken of Sister Jessica so 
 often and so lovingly, and her kindnesses towards 
 him had been so manifold and thoughtful and salu 
 tary, 'and he had cherished himself so deep a senti 
 ment of gratitude, that not only did she seem to him 
 to be no stranger, but a bond was felt to exist be-
 
 168 Thomas Ruffm. 
 
 tween them. Besides, in areligeuse the notion of sex 
 is replaced by that of the institution. And the 
 topics, too, whereon he wished to speak were ener 
 gizing. 
 
 "Sister Jessica," said Thmas, opening the con 
 versation, "you've been kind, indeed, to my Father." 
 
 He paused a moment, and the Sister responded to 
 the implied expression of thanks by a slight incli 
 nation of the head. 
 
 "My Father seems more patient and contented, 
 since he has known you. It delights him to see you, 
 and I wish to let you know how deeply grateful I 
 am for your most kind attentions." 
 
 The Sister again bowed in response. 
 , "I notice," said Thomas, after another brief pause, 
 "that your posies always have Moss Roses." 
 
 The Sister again replied in a bow. 
 
 "It's my Father's favorite, as you've found out, 
 and for myself has dear associations on other grounds, 
 besides. I cultivated it at our old home. I am 
 somewhat read, too, in its literature, and as a bloomer 
 only knew it as having a short season in the Spring; 
 and it has appeared strange to me to see the flowers 
 in Winter." 
 
 The Sister not replying to the implied interroga 
 tion, Thomas put the direct question : 
 
 "Will you please explain this, Sister Jessica ?" 
 
 "They are furnished," she answered, in a low tone, 
 "by a friend, an experienced florist. Fecundating 
 Moss Roses with the pollen of the ever blooming 
 sorts, he produces a group of perpetual Mosses; and
 
 Thomas Ruffin. . 169 
 
 the nursery and force bed .give the Winter bloom." 
 
 "And yet the blooms in the crossing do not appear 
 to have lost any of the peculiar beauty which marks 
 the Moss." 
 
 "The florist, though a young man, is an expert in 
 the cultivation of this particular rose." 
 k "They must'be costly," remarked Thomas. 
 
 "Our friend has become interested in their pur 
 pose, and furnishes them without price." 
 
 "He is very kind, certainly." 
 
 There was another brief pause, and then Thomas 
 observed : 
 
 "I see among the flowers to-day the same varieties 
 of the Moss as in the last bouquet, and in the same 
 stage of growth." 
 
 The Sister bowed her acquiescence. 
 
 "And I appropriated them, with My Father's per 
 mission, as you see I've done these." 
 
 The Sister again inclined her head in silence. 
 
 "Indeed, they are lovely flowers, and as I looked 
 down on their beauty the other day and thought 
 upon their memories, I composed some lines, and " 
 
 Thomas paused in the sentence, as if bethinking 
 himself of the propriety of what he was about to 
 say. 
 
 "You've been so faithful and so kind, Sister Jes 
 sica, in bringing these Mosses, I will repeat the 
 lines," he modestly said, "should you care to hear 
 them." 
 
 "Certainly," came the low reply; and Thomas 
 gave the lines, extending with his left hand the
 
 170 Thomas Ruffin. 
 
 lapel of the coat and looking down on the bouton- 
 niere as he spoke : 
 
 If among flowers the Rose is the queen, 
 The Moss is the queen.rose. And here are seen 
 The queens of the Moss. A Luxembourger this, 
 Flowering out in crimson loveliness ; 
 
 And this bud a Comtesse de Murinais. 
 It has no equal nothing can eclipse 
 This rose-bud, bursting from its mossy lips. 
 Its freshness, sweetness, and lovely hue, 
 Of youth and beauty make exponent true ; 
 And theme has been for poetry and art. 
 Withal it lends a point to Cupid's dart, 
 And speaks a tender language to the heart, 
 
 The language of Love confessed. 
 
 "Thank you," gently spoke the Sister ; and 
 Thomas went on : 
 
 "I wear, Sister Jessica, a Moss Rose all the 
 while," disengaging, as he spoke, a small silver 
 locket, held about his neck by a delicate chain of 
 the same metal. "I'm sure my Father has spoken 
 to you about my Cousin, Amy Sanford. We grew 
 up together, and at our last parting she gave me 
 this locket, holding a Moss bud from the bush we 
 had planted together, in the days when sunshine 
 was all about us." 
 
 Thomas' emotion began to be embarrassing and he 
 stopped a moment for self-control. During the 
 pause the Sister, having occasion to use her hand 
 kerchief, drew forth with it a paper which fell from 
 her pocket to the floor, unobserved either by her 
 self or by Thomas ; for it was the close of a dark 
 evening, nor had the lamp been lighted.
 
 Thomas Ruffin. 
 
 "Amy," Thomas went on without break or pause, 
 in a headlong impetuous way strangely unlike him, 
 kindling with the theme, "was very dear to us and 
 her family shared the misfortunes of ours and she's 
 now an orphan too as I've heard and earning her 
 bread somewhere up North and I've had a notion 
 she was probably in this city for she attended 
 school here but my searchings have been all in 
 vain and a near friend of mine a leading citizen 
 here can give me no tidings and I've written and 
 written to New Orleans to get her address from her 
 Grand-mother and my own Aunt who is living or 
 was living there but I've not been able- 
 Borne on .by a swell of feeling Thomas was speak 
 ing with rapid energy, when, confused by the con 
 sciousness of his warmth and egotism, he suddenly 
 stopped short, with an apology : 
 
 "You must excuse me, Sister, for speaking so of 
 myself. . These personal matters are nothing to you. 
 But you can understand now my interest in Moss 
 Roses." 
 
 The Sister rose, saying it was late, and bid 
 Thomas adieu. 
 
 Thomas drew a chair to a window and had finish 
 ed the note to his. Father (whose absence, by the 
 way, did not give him concern, as John Ruffin often 
 now in favorable weather sat late in the Park of 
 evenings), when he noticed a paper on the floor near 
 where the Sister had been sitting. He picked it up. 
 It was an envelope, square and of pinkish hue, un 
 sealed, folded once upon itself, and containing some-
 
 172 Thomas Ruffin. 
 
 thing. What it contained, however, was not ma 
 terial to Thomas. His gaze was riveted on the en 
 velope, which he turned over and over and examined 
 in the more excited manner. Then he rushed to a 
 trunk of his, kept in his Father's room and holding 
 some of his most valued things, and took out an en 
 velope which he carefully compared with the other. 
 They seemed identical. Evidently Thomas was 
 greatly excited, breathing rapidly with lips apart, 
 and color coming and going. He was still contrast 
 ing the envelopes, when the door was rapped, and 
 to his response Sister Jessica re-entered. 
 
 "Did I drop a paper here containing money f she 
 asked with hurry in her manner. 
 
 "Yes, Sister. Please be seated." 
 
 "My time is limited, and the limit has been 
 passed." 
 
 "Bnt I must speak, Sister Jessica," replied Thomas 
 with a trembling voice, scarce able to control the 
 excitement under which he was laboring. "Pray 
 be seated, if but for a moment." 
 
 The Sister took a chair near the door where she 
 had been standing. 
 
 "Sister Jessica," said Thomas, holding up the en 
 velopes, one in either hand, "the envolepe, you must 
 know, is both novel and rare, and is it possible, by 
 mere chance, these should be the self-same in size, 
 in shape, in color, and in the monagram of A. S. ; for 
 I can make out the letters, I think, on yours, though 
 the impression be worn \ This you dropped here. 
 And the other contains the last note to me from Amy
 
 Thomas Ruffin. 173 
 
 Sanford. She must be in this city, as I have sus 
 pected; or you must know something about her." 
 
 The Sister did not reply immediately, and Thomas 
 implored her : 
 
 "Sister Jessica, why do you not speak ? I must 
 know the truth." 
 
 "Mr. Ruffin," came the reply in a low, deliberate 
 voice, "if there has been a discovery, in my view the 
 circumstances under which it has been made, should 
 go far, at the least, to bind a man of honor to respect 
 the wish of the party interested. If you will pledge 
 your word absolutely to reveal to none what I shall 
 have said, I will speak. Otherwise my lips are 
 closed, and moreover my visits to your Father must 
 cease." 
 
 There was nothing for Thomas to do but to give 
 the pledge, and the Sister continued : 
 
 "Yes Amy Sanford is in this city, and wishes to 
 remain unknown. I was with her in a long illness 
 at a Church Home. We became close friends, and 
 her giving me, as a novelty, a number of these bits 
 of paper has been the means of disclosing her. Sin 
 gular are the ways of Providence !" 
 
 The Sister paused then went on : 
 
 "She confided to me her history. It was to gratify 
 her most vehement desire that I bsgan these visits to 
 your Father. She it is who furnishes the flowers 
 and the chair and the pay. In all I have done for 
 him I have acted under her direction and as her 
 representative. lean say no. more now. To-morrow 
 you will receive a letter,"
 
 174 Thomas Ruffin. 
 
 "Let me ask," said Thomas who had been listen 
 ing with rapt attention, "how my Cousin is faring ?" 
 
 "At present her circumstances are peculiar. I can 
 say she is among the friends she has made, and is. 
 well save in so far as the sorrows of your house 
 and her own, weigh upon her. 
 
 But I say no more. It is beyond my time limit 
 and the weather threatens. You must neither follow 
 nor inquire about me. Remember the pledge. By 
 next mail will come a letter." 
 
 With these words the Sister, receiving the envel 
 ope, bade Thomas adieu. 
 
 All in a quiver Thomas hastened backto the Bank. 
 He had fasted that day with more rigor than usual, 
 in anticipation of having supper with his Father, 
 and, before renewing work, ran stumbling up stairs 
 to his room, to draw a cup of tea. His feelings can 
 better be imagined than described. 
 
 Amy in this city (so ran his thoughts) ! I knew it ! 
 I knew it ! I had the strongest conviction she was 
 somewhere near. I have read in a book of innate at 
 tractions and antipathies, and it seemed to me I could 
 feel my Cousin's presence! But why should Amy 
 live hidden ? And from me, least of all ? And 
 how happens it that Friend Peale knows nothing 
 about her ? v Strange ! Passing strange ! But there's 
 to be a letter ! And what can Amy be doing \ And 
 who are these friends she has made and with whom 
 she is living? And who is this florist friend that 
 furnishes without price the costly flowers \ And his 
 face clouded as the thought obtruded : And what
 
 TJiomas Ruffin. 175 
 
 might not possibly be his relations to Amy \ No, 
 no, he reassured himself, the well-born Amy Sanford 
 cannot be thinking of a florist. Amy cannot have 
 forgotten us. She is well, the Sister says, except 
 that our sorrows, with her own, weigh upon her. 
 Surely her heart is towards us ! How can it be 
 otherwise ! There is mystery, but out of it would 
 come light and joy, and thrills would flash through 
 and through him. 
 
 He struck a light. He always felt better, when 
 night set in and the lamp brightened his dark little 
 room. It cast a spell, as it were, upon its defects, 
 and he could no longer look out and have invidious 
 contrasts forced on him. His room now seemed to 
 be uncommonly bright, and the little clock on the 
 shelf more sympathetic than usual. The clock and 
 himself had become really good friends. Of nights 
 he would lie awake so often and listen to its tick, 
 and it seemed to be talking to him kindly. It ap 
 peared now to tick clearer and brisker than ever, as 
 though speaking to him with renewed encourage 
 ment. He drew the tea and drank the cup of cheer 
 all lifted up. The theatre of life seemed suddenly 
 to be expanding around him new motives present 
 ing new springs of action developing and he went 
 down to his desk with a most hearty good-will.
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 WHICH NUMERICALLY FOLLOWS THE FOREGOING, AND 
 IS ITS IMMEDIATE CONTINUATION. 
 
 Though the evening was dark and lowering, it was 
 uncommonly mild, and, as Thomas had said, his 
 Father had been sitting and walking in the Square 
 or Park near by a favorite resort. It was after 6, 
 when he returned to his room with a small cat 'o nine 
 tails in his hand. Since his affliction he had become 
 as afraid of dogs as an Indian, and, when in the 
 Park, it was his fancy to carry a cat, rather than a 
 cane, to frighten them off. 
 
 Sabina was on hand, to trim and light the lamp, 
 mend the fire, bring fresh water, &c. He read 
 Thomas' note, with a mutter of reproach against the 
 Banker for overburdening his son was very sorry 
 to have missed seeing "Sister Jessie" and would 
 have supper, when Thomas came in. 
 
 Presently Sabina returned, to say that Sandy John 
 son had called. He had come, by agreement, for his 
 chair, the third he had brought to be bottomed. 
 The visits connected with the first two and with the 
 bringing of this one, had been very short, Sandy
 
 Thomas Ruffin. 177 
 
 fearing recognition. Finding he had little to fear, 
 he purposely prolonged the present visit, to observe 
 John Ruffin more closely and satisfactorily; and this 
 he desired to do as well on his old townsman's ac 
 count, as on that of Thomas Ruffin's, to whom he 
 had become strongly attached. 
 
 These chairs of Sandy's, with those Sister Jessica 
 brought, occupied all of John Ruffin's handicraft 
 time. He worked only when he felt disposed; and, 
 besides, over the work itself exercised the most pa 
 tient and exacting particularity. It was found no 
 easy matter to get just the proper kind of husk or 
 shuck (as the covering of the corn-ear is called 
 throughout the South). The northern article is much 
 below the southern in its pliant, fine-grained, silk- 
 like quality; and this latter John Ruffin made the 
 standard. Then, he would use only the second 
 or third shuck leaf from the ear. Then, the splits 
 must all be of a precise width by a definite individ 
 ual measurement. Then, they would have to be 
 dampened or lie in water just so many minutes. And 
 then, again, the least flaw in the twist would require 
 an untwisting back and correction, it being not an 
 unfrequeut thing for him to rip up the fine work of 
 a half or even a whole bottom, to correct an irregu 
 larity or unevenness in an early twist that had been 
 overlooked. When the chair finally left his hand 
 approved, you may be sure the seat was a model of 
 close, smooth, neat workmanship. 
 
 John Ruffin would buy shucks often in small lots, 
 the cost being a song ("not worth shucks" is a com- 
 
 13
 
 178 Thomas Ru~ffin. 
 
 mon southern expression for worthlessness). Sabina 
 generally was the purchasing agent, and frequently 
 he would tax severely her good nature, as well as 
 that of Miss Kitty, by requiring her to fetch him 
 samples from livery-stable or mat or mattress fac 
 tory in distant sections of the city. Sabina being 
 but an indifferent judge, not a few of her purchases 
 were thrown away entirely, with a round scolding 
 for her stupidity to all of which the negro woman 
 would respond with a respectful guffaw. 
 
 Sabina' s announcement of Sandy's having called, 
 was followed, a moment later, by the entrance of 
 Sandy, who, as he canie in, placed his Scotch cap on 
 the top of the bureau near the door. 
 
 "What d'you want?" asked John Ruffin queru 
 lously, forgetting who his visitor was. It may be 
 his well-being and his humor had not been improved 
 by the stay in the damp evening atmosphere of the 
 Park. More likely, his feelings were ruffled by the 
 injustice of the Banker in imposing extra work 
 upon Thomas, and keeping him two hours beyond 
 time, late in the night. Probably, each cause was 
 operating. At any rate, highly irascible evidently 
 he was; and in this state of mind he had forgotten 
 that Sabina had announced Sandy Johnson a moment 
 before. 
 
 "Me chair, Sir," responded Sandy in a hearty way. 
 
 "Oh-h ! it's you Johnson the shoemaker. There 
 it is." 
 
 "It's gude wark," remarked Sandy, examining the 
 chair admiringly. "Ye hae mad it look sae braw, I
 
 Thomas Ruffin. 179 
 
 scarce wud ken me auld restin' piece. And here's 
 the money" handing a silver dollar. 
 
 Sandy seated himself in his chair and regarded his 
 old townsman with tender interest, while the latter 
 notwithstanding Sandy's being a customer look 
 ed amazed at his stay, and asked sharply : 
 
 "What do you want now ?" 
 
 "Me change, Sir. I gied ye a dollar, Sir." 
 
 "O-h !" John Ruffin responded, and then began 
 fumbling in his pocket brought out the dollar 
 looked hard at it a moment, as if collecting his 
 thoughts went to the bureau fumbled in the upper 
 drawer, placing part of the contents on top of bureau 
 upon Sandy's cap found a half dollar replaced 
 contents of drawer, Sandy's cap being among them 
 handed the half dollar to Sandy and resuming seat, 
 asked with an added emphasis, as Sandy still re 
 mained chaired : 
 
 "What d'you want NOW?" 
 
 "Me cap, Sir. When ye pat back the things, me 
 cap gaed in, too." 
 
 "Oh-h !" exclaimed John Ruffin, after a moment's 
 reflection. Then he went to the bureau, and, having 
 fumbled in the drawer, got Sandy's cap and gave it 
 to him. Then took his seat, and, thoroughly wor 
 ried at Sandy's prolonged stay, asked almost fiercely: 
 
 "What d'you want NOW ?" 
 
 "To rest a bit, if ye please," replied Sandy in the 
 pleasantest way. 
 
 A pause followed, during which Sandy took from 
 the table the cat o' nine tails, and regarded it curi 
 ously.
 
 180 Thomas Ruffin. 
 
 "A cat ! What's the cat for, Sir ?" 
 
 "Troublesome fellows." 
 
 "Ha ! ha ! ha ! Iver use it, Sir ?" 
 
 "On dogs sometimes." 
 
 "Mony troublesome dogs aboot, Sir?" 
 
 "Yes some on four legs," snappishly replied 
 John Rtiffin, from whose clouded reason would come 
 now and then unlocked for flashes of bright intelli 
 gence. 
 
 "Ha ! ha ! ha !" was Sandy's greeting of the sally, 
 just as Sabina entered in her bustling way, and with 
 a sample shuck in hand. 
 
 "O Mr. Ruffin !" Sabina paused at her intrusion, 
 as she recognized Sandy's presence. 
 
 "What now, Sabina?" 
 
 "Dare's a man here as what's got shucks, an' yer 
 axed me fur ter git some ter day fur yer." 
 
 "Well bring 'em in, Sabina." 
 
 "Bring 'em in I" (with a great guffaw). "La ! Mr. 
 Ruffin, dey's a cart-load !" 
 
 "A cart-load !" 
 
 "Yes, Mr. Ruffin, a good cart-load." 
 
 "A cart load of shucks, you fool !" 
 
 "Yes, Mr. Ruffin," rejoined Sabina glibly, in 
 happy oblivion of the old gentleman's opinion of her 
 stolidity; "an' where does yer want 'em ter stay !" 
 
 "In the cart, Sabina." 
 
 Sabina paused in reflection then queried naively: 
 
 "An' where does yer want de cart to stay ?" 
 
 "Behind the horse, Sabina." 
 
 Sabina again paused in the endeavor to take in
 
 Thomas Rujjin. 18 i 
 
 John Ruffin's disposition of the shucks, and had 
 started another query : 
 
 "An' where does yer want ," when John Ruffin 
 vigorously broke in : 
 
 "And I want you, you black goose, to stay out of 
 this room." 
 
 "Ha! ha! ha!" roared Sandy; and for volume 
 of effort Sabina was not behind the jovial Scot in a 
 rousing guffaw, ending in a very high key, as she 
 sailed from the apartment. 
 
 The Sabina episode had not abated John Ruffin's 
 impatience at the shoemaker's unwarrantable stay 
 in spite of broad hints. He was so nettled that he 
 had a thought of calling in assistance, to have him 
 put out. Taking in hand an unfinished chair he be 
 gan twisting away at the splits, every moment or so 
 glancing nervously at the clock. Presently he re 
 marked, with significant look at the time piece : 
 
 "It's getting late." 
 
 "But ye' 11 let a customer rest his auld banes. I 
 work vera' hard, Sir." 
 
 "I work hard, too" twisting energetically "and 
 like to work by myself, too." 
 
 Sandy passed the hint by, and, recalling the pat 
 rimony he had squandered in early life, remarked 
 (he knew he was venturing on risky ground, yet was 
 desirous of prolonging the conversation as far as he 
 could) : 
 
 "Like mony ithers, I hae seen better days, Sir." 
 
 John Ruffin gave him suspicious glance; yet 
 Sandy ventured on :
 
 182 Tliomas Ruffin. 
 
 "Aince I bed cash and to spare, but like mony 
 ithers I gaed doon, and hed a warsle wi' want, Sir." 
 
 Suddenly John Ruffin turned upon Sandy a search 
 ing look, followed up by a query, and the latter for 
 a moment thought he was gone. 
 
 "Do you know anything about me?" 
 
 "I ken ye do gude wark on chairs," came the 
 ready reply. 
 
 There was a change of manner perhaps the tie of 
 kindred misfortune came up as John Ruffin added 
 after a pause : 
 
 "All gone ? Nothing at all now V 
 
 "Na, na I canna say juist that. I hae a wee sum 
 pat awa' in a Bank." 
 
 And with the word "B,ank" came rushing to John 
 Ruffin' s mental front the relations of Thomas and 
 Dalguspin, which all the while had been the basic 
 thought and source of his acrimony. 
 
 "A Bank !" he exclaimed, ceasing work and rous 
 ing in the direction we have indicated. " What 
 Bank?" 
 
 "Dalguspin' s Do ye ken ony thing aboot it?" 
 
 "Bad Bank ! Work ' ] em to death /" 
 
 "Ah but I hae a young freend in that Bank, Sir, 
 and pat me money thar, because he's thar." 
 
 "Who is he?" John Ruffin asked earnestly; for 
 he was now all awake. Possibly it might be "Tarn- 
 mie," he thought. (Thomas had informed his Father 
 there were two other clerks in the establishment, 
 John and his assistant in the Pawn-Shop). 
 
 "Aweel, aweel, I canna gie fu' eenformation. I
 
 Thomas ttuffin. 183 
 
 hae tried to find oot the young mon, but he keeps 
 his ain counsel." 
 
 " Who is UeT" 1 with increasing emphasis. 
 
 "A gude customer o' mine, Sir. He brings to the 
 shop his ain shoone and his Father's, and a mair 
 winsome, weel bred, weel spoken young mon, ye 
 may sarch amang a million for, but canna find him." 
 
 "WHO is HE, I say?" in excited tones. 
 
 "Wha is he ? Why, he's a new dark in the Bank, 
 Sir cam frae the South and is a gentleman, Sir, a 
 born gentleman. That's wha he is, Sir." 
 
 "BUT WHAT'S HIS NAME ?" showing great 
 excitement. , 
 
 "Weel, noo, ye hae me fast," replied Sandy with 
 provoking composure. "I canna gie a' his name. I 
 ken the first part only." 
 
 "My^God! man, WHAT& S THA T?" almost 
 screamed John Ruffin, and rising as he spoke. 
 
 "Tammas they ca' him at the Bank, Sir, and I ken 
 him as Mr. Tammas." 
 
 At the mention of "Thomas," John RuiSn at onqe 
 calmed down, and a low, inward, happy laugh was 
 seen to move his frame. 
 
 "I maun gang," remarked Sandy, rising. 
 
 "No, no, no ! Stay ! stay !" objected the old gen 
 tleman, approaching Sandy and affectionately pla 
 cing an opposing hand on his shoulder. 
 
 "It's gettin' late," Sandy said, glancing at the 
 clock. 
 
 "No, no, no, Mr. , Mr. " (trying to recall 
 
 the name of Johnson) "Mr. Shoemaker. It's not
 
 184 Thomas Ruffin. 
 
 late, and the wind blows cold. Don't you hear it ? 
 Stay and warm yourself." 
 
 Lovingly he pressed Sandy back into his seat. 
 Next, drew his own chair close to Sandy's; and as 
 the latter answered the questions he asked about 
 "Tanimie," John Ruffin paused, seriatim, to take it 
 all in. The praises Sandy so freely bestowed upon 
 his son were sweeter than honey and the honey 
 comb. Ripples of inwar joy played over his frame 
 and broke in smiles upon his face. Sandy exerted 
 himself to the utmost to humor him, and took vast 
 delight in being the means of imparting delight to 
 his old townsman's heart. 
 
 "You say your young friend is named 'Tammie !' ' 
 "Ay, ay, Sir. 'Mr. Tammas,' I ca' him." 
 "You say your 'Tammie' is a nice young man?" 
 "In a' me born days I hae niver seen ane half sae 
 nice. He taks me heart, Sir." 
 "Is your 'Tammie' tall or low?" 
 "Tall and slender like." 
 "How does your 'Tammie' talk?" 
 "Whan ye start him, he talks right alang. Gin 
 ye is sae modest, he lies gude larnin', and talks 
 juist like a bookie, gin ye tak him right." 
 "What kind of eyes has your 'Tammie?' ' 
 "Nae lassie hes sweeter dark brown tender een, 
 a sparklin', whan he lifts 'em, wi' inteelligence and 
 feelin'." 
 
 "What kind of hair has your 'Tammie?' ' 
 "Ah! his hair, indeed, Sir! It's auburn, a lovely 
 auburn."
 
 Thomas Ruffin. 185 
 
 "And is it soft and wavy 3" 
 
 "Ay, ay, thar ye hae it, Sir. It's soft as silk, 
 and wavy like, and whan bright light's on it, 
 shines wi' changing color, like a settlin' sea, touchit 
 by a settin' sun." 
 
 "Does your 'Tammie' ?" 
 
 "But I maun gang. It's late," said Sandy, rising 
 and interrupting. 
 
 "No-o, no-o ! It's not so late," dissuaded John 
 Ruffin, rising with Sandy. 
 
 "Na, na I maunna stay. Time for honest fouk 
 to be abed." 
 
 "Well I'm glad, glad you've been here, Mr. 
 Mr. Mr. Shoemaker. Grod bless you and your 
 friend 'Tammie,' too." 
 
 "The same to ye, Sir. And as for Mr. Tam- 
 mas, why he may draw on me to the last 
 dollar." 
 
 "Now, why don't you say to the last breath f" 
 
 "Ha! ha! ha! Ay, ay, to the last breath, too, 
 Sir," Sandy responded ; and closing thus a conver 
 sation in a tune quite different from that with which 
 it had begun, the warm-hearted, ready-witted Scot 
 shouldered his chair and left. 
 
 John Ruffin drew the dollar from his pocket- 
 looked at it reflectively then opened a bureau 
 drawer took out powder and a piece of flannel 
 and, as he rubbed up the coin, treated himself to a 
 soliloquy : 
 
 "He didn't know he was talking to Tammie' s 
 Father. I wouldn't tell him" with a little chuckle
 
 186 Thomas Ruffin. 
 
 at his acuteness. "I didn't want to hear false 
 praise. If he'd known I'm Tammie's Father, he 
 might' ve given me blarney. But he didn't know it" 
 another little chuckle. "Dear, dear Tammie. 
 He's all the man said and a thousand times more. 
 I'll make this dollar bright for him. 'Tisn't much, but 
 I must help Tammie. I used to think he'd never 
 catch on, and kept heaping up a pile, to take care 
 of Tammie; but now Tammie's taking care of me. 
 It's most time he was here" looking up at the 
 clock. But not seeing clearly the figures on its face, 
 he had risen from the chair for a nearer view, when 
 Sabina rushed in after the obstreperous fashion not 
 uncommon with her, even when comparative trifles 
 were in question : 
 
 "Mr. Ruffin ! Mr. Ruffin ! Oh ! Mr. Ruffin !" 
 "What! What! What!" cried John Ruffin in 
 great alarm. 
 
 "Mr. Ruffin !" exclaimed Sabina, with both hands 
 up and shaking all over as though palsied, "your 
 Tommies in a Jit /" 
 
 "My God ! Woman ! my God ! Where's the child?" 
 "La ! Mr. Ruffin !" with a great guffaw. "Sakes 
 alive ! don't do so. It's Tom Cat you pet so. Dey 
 wants you to cut its tail fur de fit.'* 
 
 "The cat' stall !" gasped John Ruffin, with feelings 
 outraged and panting from shock "the cat's tail! 
 you confounded black huzzy ! I'll give you fits with 
 this cat o' nine tails;" and, seizing the cat, he made 
 for Sabina, who fled screaming and guffawing from 
 the room.
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 "The kindest and the happiest pair.' 1 Cowper. 
 
 Dalguspin was right. His keen eyes saw through 
 it all. Noals really had concocted the scheme, with 
 himself at its centre. But it stood little more than 
 frame work, until the Pawn-broker's malignant fer 
 tility supplied details and gave it flesh and blood. 
 Noals at first had simply acquiesced in these de 
 tails temporarily; but upon reflection realized their 
 utility. So, 'it was a well satisfied pair. .The pros 
 pect all around seemed improving. Black Isaac was 
 cheerful, even happy, over the outlook; and Noals 
 so elated, that it would have been surprising, if his 
 irrepressible bent towards joking had not discovered 
 on the scheme points for its expression. 
 
 It was not so easy to get a favorable opportunity 
 for finally sounding Robert. We say finally; for 
 prior to hinting to Dalguspin the scheme of robbery, 
 Noals, in cracksman's guise and with an eye to a 
 confederate, had approached Robert. Some time 
 elapsed before it could be done. The first intima 
 tion in this direction to Black Isaac, was Robert's 
 announcement, early one Monday morning, of his 
 intention to leave the following Thursday that he
 
 188 Thomas Muffin. 
 
 wished to see something of the old world and that 
 a way had just opened to him to secure an ocean 
 passage. During the day the Pawn-broker received 
 a note from Noals, that he would call at 8 p. m. 
 Noals was strictly on time, and a lively conversation 
 followed in harmony with the satisfactory state of 
 affairs. 
 
 "Have you seen Robert?" asked the Pawn-broker, 
 as Noals and himself became closeted in the little 
 private home office, with its antique centre table hold 
 ing whiskies and waters (hot and cold), and the rest 
 of the outfit for grog and toddy. 
 
 "Yes the cracksman has seen him, and what's 
 more got him. Eat my old hat, if he ain't a good 
 one. An ocean ticket and 100 in gold, half in hand, 
 the rest the moment of my exit from the Bank this 
 secures him." 
 
 "You should have seen me, before going so far. 
 That was the distinct agreement made in this 
 room." 
 
 "But I understood you then as intimating, and in 
 that street talk last Saturday as expressing, a wil 
 lingness Robert should be got, could he be led at 
 once to leave the country. The fact is, Dalguspin, 
 I really didn't know where to stop. It was a good 
 opportunity, and opportunities don't come every 
 day, and the fellow seemed so eager and gave evi 
 dence, too, of being such a trump, that the whole 
 matter was disclosed and bargain struck, almost be 
 fore I knew it." 
 
 "Let it be. He's the only ally Pd consent to have,
 
 Thomas Ruffin. 189 
 
 since he goes abroad. I saw your hand this morn 
 ing, when Robert asked leave to quit my service 
 Thursday, designing, so he said, to sail for England." 
 
 "And you accommodated him ?" 
 
 'Of course But we're too loud, Jimmie. We 
 should whisper these things." 
 
 "Whist !" Noals suddenly exclaimed, as he looked 
 startled towards the door. 
 
 "What?" 
 
 "I'm certain I heard sounds like muffled foot 
 falls," Noals replied, dropping his voice. 
 
 They both looked towards the door and listened 
 intently. Presently Dalguspin tip-toed to the door 
 and listened. Then opened the door suddenly but 
 saw nothing. Resuming his seat, he rang up Robert. 
 
 "What noise was that in the hall just now?" 
 
 "I dont't know, Sir, unless it was Gowrie" (a 
 Scotch collie). "He is in the house." 
 
 "Put Gowrie out, and observe my wish that we be 
 not disturbed. 'Twas nothing" (to Noals, as the door 
 closed on Robert). "But softly, softly, Jimmie. 
 We've been too lively over business so solemn. A 
 sharp ear at the key-hole might have gotten clean 
 away with us. Now for details : Does Robert know 
 of the part the clerk's to be made to play ?" 
 
 "He does." 
 
 "All will say, of course, the cracksman had dupli 
 cate keys, and the surmise will be they were made 
 from impressions got either from the Watchman, or 
 the clerk. Suspicion must fall upon the latter, in 
 the way I suggested."
 
 190 Thomas Ruffin. 
 
 "You mean through the hidden money ?" 
 
 "I do." 
 
 It should be remarked, that, if the Pawn-broker's 
 malignant mind towards Thomas Ruffin, had been 
 aroused by the latter' s conduct in connection with 
 the "doctoring" of Cameron's note, the sentiment of 
 hate, thus formed, became subject to a constant pro 
 cess of stimulation from another cause. In a moral 
 sense Black Isaac's cJerks had been uniformly of the 
 slippery sort, more or less; and if he had not led 
 them into acts palpably or legally criminal, they 
 were not insensible to his suggestions touching pec 
 cadilloes. On the contrary, the conduct of Thomas 
 Ruffi n was as straight in its course as the arrow from 
 the bow of an a.rcher. He could not be turned aside 
 a jot towards aught savoring of crookedness, how 
 ever Black Isaac might allege precedent or custom. 
 At first this character, with amiability and industry 
 for attendants, charmed the Pawn-broker. It was 
 something new and interesting a fresh and novel 
 flower of agreeable fragrance. But when once 
 Thomas had given occasion to Black Isaac to turn 
 against him, the latter' s character, contrasting so 
 pointedly with his, became a source of perpetual ir 
 ritation. The air of high and honorable breeding 
 unconsciously manifest the transparent honesty 
 that the Pawn-broker could not budge the spiritu- 
 elle presence, almost feminine in its delicacy all 
 this was the very opposite to the hard, old, moss- 
 grown sinner, and kept forcing on the latter a sense 
 of inferiority and of insult so to speak. Like the
 
 Thomas Ruffin. 191 
 
 opposite poles of a magnet, their characters repelled 
 each other. Black Isaac's hate grew and rankled, 
 and he now chuckled over the thought, that a day 
 of reckoning had come. It is a Nemesis of our own 
 conjuring, that we come really to hate those we 
 desire to hate to see blackness in those we wish to 
 be black, though they be white as the driven snow. 
 
 With the advent of the scheme, however, his out 
 ward conduct craftily changed. His bearing be 
 came civil. He restored the half dollar to the wage. 
 Friend Peale knew and could swear the young man 
 was pressed. That was enough, he thought. And 
 he intimated to Thomas there was betterment in 
 store. 
 
 "It's all arranged with Bob," said Noals in reply 
 to the Pawnbroker. "It's his own special job. He's 
 well up in such tricks, he tells me. In disguise fur 
 nished by the cracksman, at 8 that evening Bob is 
 to see old Ruffin in his room at The Home, and 
 watch a chance to thrust between the mattresses a 
 roll of bills. 'Tis done most easily. Bob can twist 
 to his will the daft old fellow." 
 
 "The rascal! I've been a fearing him, that he 
 would trick or harm me in some way. But here he 
 is proving our right bower. Man proposes, Noals, 
 but God disposes." 
 
 "Most well spoken. Verily, we seem singled out 
 for a series of special providences. We must be 
 ready, Dalguspin, for our parts at the final6. The 
 rendezvous is so near the Bank, that I can doff dis 
 guise and be on hand as Jimmie Noals, when the
 
 192 Thomas Ruffin. 
 
 watchman rushes forth with outcries. I'll join him 
 and we'll make for your house. Then for The Old 
 Men's Home. The clerk will be accused of com 
 plicity . He' 11 deny of course. Search will be made 
 the money roll found and the clerk arrested. 
 The cracksman has warned Bob to be at home on 
 duty as soon as possible twenty minutes, say after 
 the event. See that he goes with us to The Home. 
 The scene will chime in with his humor." 
 
 "We'll be on hand. Here, Noals, take these" 
 drawing keys from pocket "keys to front door 
 and Safe. Get duplicates; but, mind, don't have'm 
 made. Might give a clew, you know. Match 
 'em and cut and file yourself to a fit. I'll try them 
 for you. Match 'em down at Kirk's, Jimmie. You'll 
 find there all sorts of keys," 
 
 "Except a turnkey /" Noals remarked with due 
 gravity. 
 
 "He ! he ! he ! And the key of wedlock!" put in 
 the Pawn-broker. 
 
 "Ha! ha! ha! And the key to the situation!''' 1 
 Noals again fired off. 
 
 "He! he! he! And whiskey!" fired back the 
 Pawn-broker, taking the cap. 
 
 "Ah-h-h ! if you haven't struck a key note, I'll 
 eat the old hat. It's a reminder. Let me try that 
 key. Fits so nicely." 
 
 Noals mixes a bumper of grog sips smacks 
 lips -and, holding the glass aloft, apostrophizes the 
 liquor, as he looks at it cunningly : 
 
 " W-h-i-s--e-2/ / the key of keys! Used, not
 
 Thomas Ruffin. 193 
 
 abused, it's the very power of the Tceys itself, ad 
 mitting troubled souls to a paradise of content !" 
 
 "Bravo ! bravo ! Try it again," said Black Isaac, 
 as Noals returned to the table the emptied glass. "/ 
 don't drink now, Jimmie kidneys touched sworn 
 off once did, though, hard as the chap Jack Ran 
 dolph told about in that last speech of his here." 
 
 "Poor Jack ! The country has lost the prince of 
 speakers. How about the chap ? I don't remember." 
 
 "Got up every morning a whiskey barrel, and went 
 to bed at night a barrel of whiskey." 
 
 "Ha! ha! ha! Yes, yes. You're jolly, Dalgus- 
 pin, jolly, old fellow. You feel better." 
 
 "Sh-h-h-h ! Soft ! soft ! Less noise, or we may 
 have noise outside. Yes, I feel better, now it's all 
 arranged, and the prospect clears up. Remember, 
 too, Jimmie, there's another key, the rear-door key. 
 You may need it in making exit. As I told you 
 Saturday, I gave mine to the clerk some time ago ; 
 but I'll have another to-day." 
 
 "Very well. Still, let Bob get the key. The cracks 
 man has given Bob this other special job, to test 
 his skill and fidelity. Disguised and representing 
 a Pen and Ink Pedlar, Bob is to see young Ruffin 
 Wednesday eve at the Bank, to get an impression of 
 this key. He may fail. So hold yours in reserve. 
 But the cracksman knows somewhat of Bob's pre 
 paration and goes it strong on Bobby Boy, too; for 
 if he doesn't do a job to tickle you, my old hat I'll 
 
 chew w-w bands, lining, and all." 
 
 
 
 13
 
 194 Thomas Ruffin. 
 
 The Pawn-broker saluted Noals' humor, and then 
 remarked : 
 
 "By the way, Noals, I've never seen you in your 
 disguises. Bring 'em over. You can try on here 
 behind bolted doors. I'd like to note your bearing 
 and see how you would do." 
 
 "All right. I'll be back anon. Courage up, Dal- 
 guspin. No danger, no danger; for Bob goes abroad, 
 and we shall hang well together." 
 
 "If we don't, by George ! we hang separately." 
 
 "Ha! ha! ha! Now, you stole that." 
 
 "All the same it comes in pat." 
 
 "Comes from Pafc., too Pat Henry. Ha ! ha ! ha !" 
 
 Upon Noals' departure Black Isaac sat a space in 
 thought. Then rang up Robert. 
 
 "You're to leave soon, Robert." 
 
 "Yes, Sir." 
 
 "You once raised your arm to protect me, and 
 you've been faithful in my house. I'm not unmind 
 ful, Robert, and wish to give you a parting counsel." 
 
 "Thank you, Sir." 
 
 "You must stop roving, Robert. You will before 
 long, and settle down to business of some sort; and 
 then, whatever it be, Robert, stick to it. My coun 
 sel lies in that word Stick. It doesn't matter so 
 much what the business is. The point is to stick. 
 Lots in business, but few stickers. They change to 
 this or to that, or live loosened from the biz. don't 
 ptick to it. And I believe in sticking, not only to 
 things and ideas, but to men, too. Yes, Robert, 
 stick to men, too stick both to your friends and to 
 your enemies.
 
 Thomas Ruffin. 195 
 
 And, again, Robert learn how to use men. I be 
 gan with nothing and have made my thousands 
 and honestly, too, Robert by sticking, and know 
 ing how to use those around me and getting them to 
 co-operate. Yes, 'co-operate' is the word. I have a 
 clerk now who started out well enough, but will not 
 work with me, I find. He's a fellow I can't use. 
 I've tried him and he won't lift the end of his little 
 finger. Why, here lately one word from him would 
 have made me a cool thousand, but he wouldn't co 
 operate, you see; and I've turned the fellow down, 
 and evil will get him yet. My clerks are my slaves, 
 Robert. Every one in his turn. / had to slave it 
 once. I'm on top now, and the grass shan't grow 
 under my clerks' feet. I've no use for a^ny about 
 me who ain't ready to co-operate, and whom I cain't 
 get to help me carry out my schemes. Yes, Robert, 
 when you set up in business be a sticker and know 
 how to use 'era, and you'll win. 
 
 "Ah ! there's Noals" door bell has rung. "Jim- 
 mie's brisk. Receive him, Robert." 
 
 A moment later Robert returned and presented a 
 card. As the Banker read it dismay sat upon his 
 countenance. 
 
 "Clear away these things, Robert, and admit the 
 gentleman." 
 
 "Edward Stone !" exclaimed Black Isaac, as Robert 
 disappeared "connected with the Boston Bank we 
 deal with, and Bank Inspector for this district ! At 
 this time, too ! Fiends of the Pit ! What luck !" 
 
 Presently Mr. Stone entered, a nervous, choleric
 
 196 Thomas Ruffin. 
 
 looking man, with deep red hair and beard and sandy 
 eyebrows hard of hearing worked fingers and 
 snapped eyelids, when talking rapped out short 
 sentences and, with nose up in the air, gave abun 
 dant indication of an arrogant and highly irritable 
 character. 
 
 "I am, indeed, happy to meet you, Mr. Stone," 
 said Black Isaac, coming forward smirking and bow 
 ing, and with the address he could command on such 
 occasions, at the same time extending his hand, 
 which the visitor received stiffly on his finger tips. 
 "Allow me your hat and cane, Mr. Stone" offering 
 to take them. 
 
 "No, thanks," was the short reply. 
 
 "Have^a chair, Mr. Stone." 
 
 "No, thanks. Stay but a moment," again came 
 the curt snappy answer. 
 
 Dalguspin was rather chilled by the Inspector's 
 manner, but mindful of his function, again unctious- 
 ly addressed him : 
 
 "We know each other, Mr. Stone, 'per liter am" - 
 Black Isaac had committed to memory one or two 
 classical phrases for use on special occasions "but 
 I've never before had the pleasure of grasping your 
 hand, Sir" Stone bending forward in the effort to 
 hear. 
 
 "Glad to see you" Stone's supercilious manner 
 
 administering to the sentiment a black eye. "By 
 
 the bye, per literal is better Latin than per literem" 
 
 a scholarly remark, though grossly rude. 
 
 The Pawn-broker colored up, as much as his
 
 Thomas Muffin. 197 
 
 % 
 
 swarthy countenance allowed, and the spirit of cor 
 diality took on a small freeze, but he pocketed the 
 incivility in his desire to please the Bank Inspector; 
 and, aware of the sensitiveness of deaf persons, 
 sought so to pitch his voice as to be heard, and yet 
 not remind his visitor of his infirmity. 
 
 "I believe it's your first visit to our city, Mr. 
 Stone." 
 
 "Yes. Impressions charming. The first man just 
 now to meet me, was a cabby, who tried to cheat me, 
 and got me in a devil of a heat see !" 
 
 "I am sorry, indeed, Mr. Stone. Such things will 
 happen anywhere sometimes. I hope your stay will 
 be long enough to give me the pleasure of showing 
 you our bright side. If not the 'Hub' itself, we 
 claim to be one of the shapely spokes" saluting his 
 supposed humor with a captivating smile. 
 
 Stone, however, didn't see the humorous point, or, 
 if he did, failed to recognize it, and all the while 
 was bending forward and frowning and distorting 
 his face in painful efforts to hear co-operating, as 
 it were, with Dalguspin, who kept on raising his 
 voice, to get the comfortable gauge of his visitor. 
 
 "Yes," he gruffly rejoined. "Hail from the 'Hub' 
 at large. More immediately from a hubbub in our 
 Bank, which I hope you'll be able to quell." 
 
 "I hope so, indeed, Mr. Stone. Anything I can 
 do for you, will be done, you know, most cheerfully, 
 Mr. Stone." 
 
 "Stay's brief. On business only. Letters inti 
 mate your serious involvement in Weston's failure.
 
 198 Thomas Ruflin. 
 
 We've a balance with you and feel concerned." 
 
 "It's a profound -mistake, Mr. Stone. Our losses 
 are small, Sir, and the Bank's affairs straight as a 
 shingle. Who gave the information, Mr. Stone?" 
 
 "Ah-h ! little bird has been singing." 
 
 "Then, 'twas a Mocking bird, Mr. Stone, whose 
 notes are all counterfeit," said Black' Isaac in loud 
 and earnest words, for the moment forgetting the 
 sycophant in his defense of the Bank, which, as 
 touching this particular charge, was entirely just. 
 "Our notes are sound, Sir, perfectly sound, whether 
 uttered by me, or by the Bank." 
 
 "Yes," Stone answered back in a huff, "your 
 notes are sound, Sir, loud sound, disagreeable sonnd., 
 Sir. You're bullying, Sir !" 
 
 Dalguspin was thunderstruck and thoroughly net 
 tled, yet restrained himself, and had the prudence 
 to reply in obsequious and lowered tones : 
 
 "Sullying, Mr. Stone ! My dear Sir, what can 
 you mean? You're mistaken, I assure you. I'm 
 not bullying, Mr. Stone, but simply defending the 
 Bank against an injurious impression, and naturally 
 spoke with some warmth. That was all, Mr. Stone." 
 
 "Wha-a-t ?". asked Stone, with hand behind ear 
 and bending towards Dalguspin. 
 
 "I was saying," replied the latter in a high key, 
 "you're mis-tak-en. That 
 
 "My ears are not the best, Sir," broke in Mr. Stone 
 with great irritation. "Yet I'm not as deaf as a 
 post, Sir. It's annoying, Sir, to have thrust on me 
 so vigorously a sense of my infirmity."
 
 Thomas Ruffin. 199 
 
 "Damn the old Red Stone!" rapped out Black 
 Isaac, but sotto voce. "Capital specimen of brim 
 stone ! And I'd be glad to see him Inspector of the 
 brimstone district !" 
 
 "Sorry I can't hear your sentiments," said Stone, 
 who had been keeping hand behind ear, in the effort 
 to hear. "Have no doubt they're o. K. Did you 
 ask whether I'm Inspector still? Think I caught 
 that word. Yes, I'm still Inspector. Shall inspect 
 your books to-morrow. Am doing my work thorouh- 
 ly. It's a day of wildcat speculation and official 
 dishonesty, Sir. Officials, Sir, are proving very effi 
 cient robbers. Be ready for me at 10, Sir. Good day, 
 Sir." 
 
 A his visitor turned his back for the door, Black 
 Isaac railed upon him, sotto voce : 
 
 "A derned old seven-sided fool !" 
 
 But his chafed feelings, which all along he had 
 been endeavoring to keep under control, when al 
 lowed an exit, shot forth with a little over energy, 
 and unhappily the invective reached his visitor's 
 ears. Stone turned bent on Dalguspin a stormy 
 look then spoke, measuring his words and giving 
 every syllable its full weight : 
 
 "My seventh side, Sir, I presume, is my deaf side. 
 You'll find, Sir, to-morrow, when I inspect your 
 books" grimly smiling and shaking the finger of 
 menace ''that I have no blind side." 
 
 "Whe-e-e-e-w ! Men and Brethren ! Is the fellow 
 crazy !" exclaimed Black Isaac, as the Inspector 
 marched .out. "Never in all my born days, have I
 
 200 Thomas Muffin. 
 
 seen so cross-grained an old wretch, such a compound 
 double extract of spleen ! He should be strung up by 
 the thumbs and beaten on his depraved back, until 
 the blood runs down to his heels. And I believe, 
 too, his deafness was all pretense and that the old 
 Red Head heard every word I uttered! And what 
 could he mean by emphasizing "officials are proving 
 very efficient robbers ?" He pauses and reflects. 
 "A devil of a fix ! That Bank deficit I've managed 
 to keep covered up. But the old Red Head will go 
 through our books with lynx eyes." Anothe pause. 
 "Our scheme comes off Thursday night; and if I 
 should go to the old Cuss and could placate him and 
 get him to postpone the examination for a day or 
 two. But no, it's no use. I've stirred his gall." 
 Another pause. "Ah ! well ! I'll confer with Noals. 
 He 1 s a schemer. And what can be keeping Noals, 
 I wonder ? He lives hard by and should' ave return 
 ed ere this. Could anything have happened ? What, 
 if the disguises have been lost or stolen ? Then the 
 scheme must miscarry." 
 
 And altogether, with the serious complication from 
 Stone's sudden advent on the scene, the Pawn-broker 
 was so anxious to see Noals and grew so fidgety at 
 his prolonged absence, that finally he rang up Robert 
 and ordered him to despatch one of the servants to 
 Noals' residence, to learn whether or not he was at 
 home. Presently, an answer came that Noals had 
 left the house at half-past 7, and had not returned. 
 The Pawn-broker was meditating upon the matter, 
 and had concluded the "things" were kept down
 
 Thomas lluffin. 201 
 
 town at the office, somewhat further off, when the 
 door-bell rang, much to his relief. 
 
 "Ah ! there's the fellow at last," he exclaimed. 
 
 It was a thorough disappointment, therefore, when 
 Robert entered, and announced that a stranger had 
 called. 
 
 "Where's his card?" 
 
 "Has none, Sir." 
 
 "What's his name?" 
 
 "Jones." 
 
 "What's his business ?" 
 
 "Wouldn't say only that it was important." 
 
 "Didn't you tell him I had a special engagement, 
 and every moment in expectation of the visitor V 
 
 "Yes, Sir. But the man said he could not wait, 
 that his errand was of the most serious nature, and 
 he would not keep you five minutes." 
 
 "Let me see him," said Black Isaac, with a shrug 
 of the shoulders. 
 
 Jones came in, a wretched looking old man, with 
 shoes and trousers and coat of vagabond type long, 
 dirty beard grey, matted hair body half bent in 
 one hand a supporting stick, in the other a battered 
 hat voice thin and squeaking. Evidently, a dilap 
 idated specimen a regulation tramp. 
 
 "My name's William Jones, Sir, your servant, 
 Sir," he said, bowing very low and very humbly. 
 
 Black Isaac did not deign an answer, but drew 
 back from the ragamuffin (he had dealings with such 
 at the Pawn-Shop, but knew them not at his resi 
 dence), and rang up Robert, to whom he spoke aside :
 
 202 Thomas Ruffin. 
 
 " Why did you admit the vagabond? I'm aston 
 ished at you, Sir!" 
 
 "I did refuse him, but he begged so earnestly, and 
 declared most solemnly he bore a communication of 
 great interest to yourself." 
 
 As Robert turned to retire, Black Isaac recalled 
 him, and whispered a caution to let the door remain 
 ajar and stand himself just outside, as tramps some 
 times meant robbery, deeming it the part of pru 
 dence and no reflection upon valor, to match two 
 against one. 
 
 "What d'you want ?" asked Black Isaac with look 
 and tone of supreme disgust. 
 
 "I lodge, Sir, with vagabonds " 
 
 "Not the least doubt at all about that," broke in 
 the Pawn-broker. You look very much like one 
 yourself." 
 
 "I may look like one, Sir" very humbly spoken 
 
 "but I ain't one. I was not always as I am now. 
 Once " 
 
 "What do you want? I say," the Pawn-broker 
 impatiently and disdainfully interrupted. 
 
 "If you please, Sir, I want to tell my story. You 
 have an interest in it. Once, I was going to say, I 
 had money and influence and position. But I took 
 to drink and went down lower, lower, lower; and 
 at last struck bed rock." 
 
 "And your whistle being dry, you've come here 
 for money to wet it," the Pawn-broker contemptu 
 ously suggested. 
 
 "No, no, no, Sir. I don't do that now. I can't do
 
 Thomas Ruffin.. 203 
 
 that now. I got to bed-rock, Sir, as I was a sayin'. 
 My wife and child died in want and wretchedness. 
 My relations disowned me, and I was left alone in 
 this miserable world, begging my bread by day, and 
 lodging " 
 
 "Here! here!" broke in the Pawn-broker sternly. 
 "I warn you. Enough of this rigmarole. For the 
 last time tell me ichy you are here ?" 
 
 "To pay you a debt, Sir." 
 
 "To pay me a debt 1" cried Black Isaac, with that 
 low little laugh of his, amused at the idea in spite 
 of himself. 
 
 "Yes poor old Billy Jones is come to pay a debt 
 to the Banker, by showing up a conspiracy.' 1 ' 
 
 Black Isaac looked at old Jones in a half doubt 
 ing, half believing sort of way, as the latter con 
 tinued : 
 
 "When I was a goin' down, down, Sir, there was 
 one friend that stuck. He was your Father, Sir. 
 He gave me money and counsel and tried to raise me 
 up. 'Twas no use. Yet I remember it all, and am 
 here to pay his son a debt of gratitude." 
 
 The old man paused from weakness, and Black 
 Isaac began to look interested. He saw, too, no 
 danger was to be apprehended, and thinking, withal, 
 there possibly might be disclosures which a third 
 person should not hear, stepped to the door and 
 whispered Kobert to leave. 
 
 "I Iqdge, Sir, as I was a sayin', 'with tramps and 
 thieves. They' re mostly foreigners. I've picked up 
 some of their lingo; and last night, when they thought
 
 204 Thomas Ruffin. 
 
 me asleep, or mistook me for a piJe of rags in the 
 corner, I over heard 'em planning to rob a Barik"- 
 the Pawn-broker now all attention. "That there 
 door there behind you, Sir, is little ajar. Please, 
 Sir, shet it, as I want no one else to hear this." 
 
 As Dalguspin turned towards the door, with his 
 back to Jones, the latter suddenly straightened his 
 form, drew and leveled a pistol, and thundered out : 
 
 "Hands up ! ! !" 
 
 Black Isaac turned horror-stricken, to find himself 
 confronted by a robber. In his terror his skin be 
 came goose-skin. In other words, the integument 
 bristled; or, to speak with complete regard for sci 
 entific accuracy, the microscopic muscular fibres 
 stood on ends. His knees trembled. His voice for 
 sook him. He felt he was unable utterly to shout 
 for help. He could only gasp : 
 
 "Spare me ! Here's my purse !" 
 
 "Ha ! ha ! ha ! I'll eat my old hat, Dalguspin, if" 
 
 "Heavens and earth !" broke in the Pawn-broker 
 with lifted hands, immensely amazed and immensely 
 relieved. "Can that be you Jimmie ?" 
 
 "No-o-o ! It's the cracksman" 
 
 "Good Lord, let me get my breath ! 'Twas risky, 
 my friend. Suppose I'd been armed ?" 
 
 "You wer'n't, though." 
 
 "But, devils and damnation! did you confer in 
 this guise with Robert, and then allowed him to 
 admit you just now ?" 
 
 "Don't think me a greeny. I've other outfits, my 
 Boy. Lock the doors, and let me off with this rig."
 
 Thomas Ruffin. 205 
 
 Noals kicked off outer old shoes, threw off outer 
 garments, and was seen well dressed. 
 
 "You shed well, Jimmie." 
 
 "Ah ! wait till I shed these fixings 'bout my head. 
 You'll see something red" 
 
 The Pawn-broker looked with wondering eyes at 
 the transformation going on before him, and as 
 the "fixings" (wig, &c.) were removed and Noals 
 was seen with very red hair and beard and in at 
 titude of arrogance, he sang out : 
 
 "Goodness gracious ! Edward Stone !" 
 
 "Yes" mimicking the Inspector "it's Stone, Sir 
 damned old Red Stone, Sir capital specimen of 
 brimstone." 
 
 "He! he! he! Good! good! good!" 
 
 "What did you say, Sir ?" mimicking, with hand 
 behind ear. "I've a seventh side, Sir, a deaf side." 
 
 "He! he! he! capital! capital!" 
 
 "Well, Dalguspin," said Noals, who had now re 
 moved the last wig, &c., "you wished to note my 
 bearing in disguise. How do you think I fill my 
 part, old Boy?" 
 
 "You make a perfect villain, Noals, you're a born 
 Rob Roy. Villiany sits on thee, as though your 
 trade and only joy." 
 
 "Ha! ha! Well, in your part behalf as great, 
 and we're all right, or my old hat I'll masticate."
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 THE LETTER. 
 
 A stranger to the dissipations and even ordinary 
 recreations of young men, Thomas Ruffin sought his 
 bed, when work and attentions to his Father were 
 over. An enforced fast kept him thin; but he was 
 sound of body, rose regularly before the sun, and 
 heartily enjoyed the early day. If often he felt 
 worn out and discouraged towards night, he would 
 awake with a measure of joy. The fresh, inspiring 
 morning was a daily resurrection. 
 
 The morning following the interview with Sister 
 Jessica (it is necessary to carry the reader back some 
 what), he rose earlier than usual. He was to receive 
 that morning a notable letter. Would it be from 
 Amy, or from the Sister ? Would it be sent to The 
 Home, or to the Bank? And what would be its 
 tenor ? These thoughts had filled his mind during 
 the night and kept sleep from his eyelids. It was 
 Friday. Could there be anything sinister in that I 
 He believed not. He remembered that Friday, many 
 times, had been to him a white day. He looked out, 
 to see if an omen he could gather from the weather. 
 It was fair. A sharp wind whistled from the north,
 
 Thomas Ruflin. 207 
 
 whirling the dust on the earth beneath, and in the 
 heavens above driving athwart a cold clear blue sky, 
 the skirling scud of yesterday's far away storm- 
 cloud. 
 
 After an early breakfast with his Father it was 
 always earlier on Thomas' account these Friday 
 mornings, and Sabina, as usual had provided for him 
 an extra portion he hastened to the Bank, At half 
 past 8, William, the Watchman, brought the mail. 
 The letter had come. There it was, he felt sure, as 
 he saw the superscription. He turned it over and 
 examined it carefully before opening it. There was 
 no envelope. The sheet was folded on itself simply, 
 making its own exterior, as customary in those days, 
 and addressed in a small fair hand, even as print. It 
 was not Amy's hand, as he remembered it. He 
 broke the wafer and read with a heart beating high : 
 
 To ME. THOMAS KUFFIN : 
 
 Sir : In supplementing our short interview of 
 yesterday evening with certain explanatory particu 
 lars, let me say at the outset, that I have not men 
 tioned the discovery to Amy Sanford, nor shall I. 
 It would do no good, and possibly might do harm. 
 
 An ardent object with Amy has been to do what 
 she could to soothe your Father's lot. Her own 
 Father died heart-broken a few months after removal 
 to New Orleans, victim to the ruin which the failure 
 had brought upon himself and others. His kins 
 man's stroke had affected him even more than his 
 own, and Amy has looked upon it as providential
 
 208 Thomas Ruffin. 
 
 that your Father is within her reach. Though in 
 compassing his affliction Mr. Sanford had been an 
 innocent agent, yet there stood the agony he had 
 caused ever before her. It haunted her like a spectre; 
 and. God helping her, she would make the sufferer 
 what returns she could. If only she could visit him 
 at least, and place her hand softly upon him, and 
 speak gently to him ! 
 
 But the difficulties seemed insuperable. It was 
 almost certain, she thought, that John Ruffin was 
 enraged against her Father and his house, as the 
 criminal author of his ruin. You, yourself, too, she 
 had grounds for believing, was embittered and es 
 tranged. 
 
 Under these circumstances I readily consented to 
 gratify her most passionate desire and visited your 
 Father as her representative; and when, happily, as 
 a result of these visits, I was soon able to correct the 
 impressions touching your Father's sentiments and 
 your own towards her, yet she was aware of your 
 Father's antipathy to meeting old friends and of 
 what might be the ill effects of such interviews; and 
 when, further, from my reports, she felt that visits 
 in her own person might not be unwelcome, still 
 there were personal considerations that prevailed 
 with her to maintain the incognito. 
 
 For Amy Sanford' s circumstances having radically 
 changed, she has felt she must change with them. 
 She has been left penniless. It is necessary, she 
 feels, that the past should all be forgotten, and she 
 should endeavor to fit herself to meet new and
 
 Thomas Ruffin. 209 
 
 exacting conditions; and the course of life she has 
 resolved upon, she could pursue, she thinks, with 
 more singleness of aim and better prospect of suc 
 cess, by living, temporarily at least, in retirement. 
 
 Let your mind be wholly at rest touching her wel 
 fare. She has made devoted friends, among whom 
 she lives, and who are aiding her, lovingly and effec 
 tually, to accomplish the object before her. 
 
 The occurrences of yesterday make these state 
 ments, I think, obligatory. I have only to add, that 
 you will be trusted to respect the seclusion Amy San- 
 ford has thought it meet to throw around herself, 
 and which by an accident has been revealed. The 
 pledge given me is to be kept inviolate. There are to 
 be no disclosures, no inquiries or attempts at search 
 ing out. Matters are. to go on just as though there 
 had been no discovery. Otherwise, Amy must know 
 what has happened, with the effect of nullifying her 
 endeavors respecting your Father, and a tendency 
 to nullify them touching herself, and a disposition, 
 I do not doubt, to withdraw further from observation. 
 
 The grace of the Lord Jesus Christ abide with you. 
 
 SISTER JESSICA. 
 
 As Thomas read a brood of confusing apprehen 
 sions sprang up. What could the Sister mean by say 
 ing Amy's past was all to be forgotten ? he asked him 
 self. And what could be the character of this course 
 in life that made it at all necessary or expedient to 
 remain apart from those whom it would be supposed 
 naturally she would live nearest to ? And who were 
 these devoted friends she had made, and who were 
 aiding her so lovingly and effectually ? All this was
 
 210 Thomas Ruffin. 
 
 bewildering. He could not understand the letter. 
 Only he had a sense of being stricken. Again and 
 again did he read it, before its meaning began to 
 clear up; and, as it did, a hope perished. He had 
 had a firm persuasion that Amy and himself would 
 meet again, and the hope of what might be one day, 
 had become rooted. He had not stopped to weigh 
 the difficulties. He had never considered how the 
 changes that had occurred, should bear upon such a 
 hope. It was an enchanting vision kept hidden far 
 down in the secret chambers of his heart, yet shed 
 ding, unconsciously, a certain light and an influence 
 through all his life ; and at hallowed moments he 
 would lift the veil, as it were, and gaze directly 
 upon it. The letter was fatal. The vision had fled. 
 The dream was over. Its impossibility and folly 
 broke upon him, as he dwelt on the words which 
 burned into him. 
 
 He could see well why, at the first, Amy should 
 have Sister Jessica minister to his Father in her 
 stead. But when, through the Sister, she came to 
 know that his Father understood the circumstances 
 of the failure, that he was not angered, that his own 
 affections were unchanged, and that personal visits 
 might be made, why did she remain still in retire 
 ment, if not to avoid the encouragement of hoj)es 
 which, under altered conditions, could not be real 
 ized 1 Amy must know all about him. Was not the 
 letter sent to 222 N. G. Street, with the sign of the 
 golden balls ? Sister Jessica knew wnat that meant, 
 and Dalguspin's reputation, no doubt; and Amy, 
 through her, must know just how he was situated.
 
 Thomas Ruffin. 211 
 
 Was he not reduced to the uttermost, with a stricken 
 Father looking up to him, a ward of charity, and re 
 quiring more than he could possibly do? God for 
 give him for permitting one personal thought beyond 
 his Father's care. It was a folly, this hope he had 
 allowed to entwine about his life. How could he 
 think of such things ! Amy was right. She herself, 
 penniless, was struggling to adjust herself to new con 
 ditions. It was better she should pursue her course 
 secluded and undisturbed, and establish herself in 
 life without hindrance. He was glad she had made 
 loving friends. She would make them anywhere. 
 He could rejoice at this, though it strangled a hope 
 and a light in his heart went out. For in his senti 
 ments towards Amy there was, he felt, no change. 
 He still loved her and would love her on. She was 
 his dear Cousin still. The Moss was still his flower. 
 The locket was and would be as precious as ever. 
 And Amy's heart was towards them, he was sure. 
 The past in this sense had not been forgotten could 
 not possibly be forgotten. The care she had taken 
 to send this Sister marked her depth of love. But 
 the impossible must not be hoped for. It may have 
 cost Amy herself something to think so. Yet she 
 felt bound to think it, and the Sister's letter, as re 
 flecting her mind and purposes, was a plain declara 
 tion. 
 
 All that day and the next and the next, and on and 
 on, such thought currents went surging and crossing 
 and running counter in Thomas' mind. That Friday 
 evening Friend Peale dropped in. He realized im 
 mediately that something had happened. But
 
 212 Thomas Ruffm. 
 
 Thomas could not speak; and when he intimated as 
 much, on the big-hearted Quaker's holding out an 
 opening, the latter in a general way became unusu 
 ally sympathetic and encouraging. Thomas must 
 bear the burden alone. He was estopped from friend 
 ly counsel and comfort. He had bound himself to 
 speak of the discovery to none. Later that evening, 
 when he had called to say good night, he appeared 
 to his Father excited, and was full of talk about 
 Sister Jessica so much so that the old gentleman 
 was fain to remark upon it. How could it be other 
 wise? She was the symbol of Amy's affection. The 
 last bouquet he carried to his own room. He would 
 fondle the flowers take them apart and put them 
 together again gaze upon them press them to his 
 lips. They came .from Amy herself. Her own hands 
 had touched them. Her slender fingers had arranged 
 them. As for the Mosses, he preserved them all; 
 and the Monday morning following his interview 
 with the Sister, his Father happened to find one of 
 the faded blooms upon his pillow. 
 
 Thomas, poor fellow, was all wrought up, and his 
 mind in a confused, vacillating, contradictory state. 
 In one sense, he loved Amy still, just as before, but, 
 he considered, as his Cousin. In another sense, by 
 the stress of circumstances she was removed outside 
 the orbit of his destiny, and he had given up a hope. 
 The effect was a changing one, almost constantly. 
 At times he felt stricken through and through 
 borne down by the thought, that Amy should be so 
 near, and yet so far away. All within was so lonely 
 and dark and wretched. Then, again, his spirits would
 
 Thomas Ruffin. 213 
 
 revive. He would laud the act. His Father's condi 
 tion, Amy's, his own, all demanded it. 'Twas duti 
 fully done, if painfully, he would say. And he would 
 draw himself up at the thought of the self-sacrifice 
 and seem an inch taller, and feel he would have 
 been glad for his friends to see how morally fine he 
 appeared. But Thomas was young, and this Power 
 dealing with him was old a god the ancients named 
 it, the strength of whose embraces is masked by their 
 soft and bewitching character; and if by one bound 
 the young man had really freed himself, he had per 
 formed a feat that many a swain has supposed he 
 has done, but whose accomplishment lay wholly in 
 the supposal. 
 
 John Ruflin had hoped Sister Jessica would call 
 again the Saturday subsequent to the meeting with 
 TJiomas, as he wished to let her know at the earliest 
 hour the impression she had made upon his son. 
 Towards the close of that evening there was a rap on 
 his door. She has come, he said. But when the door 
 opened, it was Miss Kitty who presented herself, with 
 three little children accompanying her. John Ruflin 
 had expressed to the Housekeeper a wish to see some 
 children a sign probably of a general improvement 
 in his condition; and she had brought Annie and 
 Mamie and Harold, children of one of the members 
 of the Board, all clean and sweet and dressed up 
 nicely, and full of artless free life. She knew they 
 would give the old gentleman no trouble just the 
 contrary; for Miss Kitty was a manager, and to one 
 who could manage at all, she would say, children
 
 214 Thomas Ruffin. 
 
 gave no trouble, till they become (to use her language) 
 yearlings and young men. They were taken up, to 
 be introduced and to shake hands with John Ruffin, 
 and then allowed, by his express wish, to be at per 
 fect liberty to do just as they pleased. John Ruffin 
 sat and watched them with evident enjoyment. They 
 were all curiosity itself and tested everything in the 
 liveliest way, yet under Miss Kitty' s eye. They tried 
 the springs of the window-shades, the door knobs, 
 the shucks and the splits, and the work on the chairs 
 everything, even to the cocks in the bath-room. 
 On returning thence to the main apartment, little 
 Mamie, with the tooth-brushes she had just seen in 
 her mind, approached John Ruffin in quite a thought 
 ful way, when the latter, supposing the child had 
 something special to say, stooped and gave his private 
 ear, to which Mamie made the following serious 
 communication : 
 
 "Mr. Ruffin," she said, "my Mama had two nail 
 brushes but she lost them !" 
 
 Whereat the old gentleman laughed heartily. Then 
 Miss Kitty, she began to laugh heartily, too. Then 
 Annie and Harold joined in. Then, Mamie. And 
 here they all were shaking up in laughter, with tears 
 almost in their eyes and no one knowing the cause 
 but John Ruffin. When one child spoke about any 
 thing, the other two spoke up also, and all talked 
 together in the most rapid and excited manner. 
 Presently Miss Kitty took them out, seeing John 
 Ruffin was satisfied and knowing the supper hour 
 was drawing near.
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 And how, Audrey ? Am I the man yet ? 
 Dotli my simple feature content you ? 
 
 As You Like It. 
 
 The Saturday afternoon succeeding that whose 
 incidents are recorded in the last chapter, John 
 Ruffin thought a visit from Sister Jessica very prob 
 able and was eagerly anticipating it. One or two 
 door-knocks has proven disappointing it was Sabi- 
 na or some other servant on matter immaterial ; and, 
 it being late, the old gentleman had abandoned 
 hope of a visit and was at work on a chair for 
 Sandy Johnson, when another tap came. With a 
 frown at what he supposed was a servant's interrup 
 tion and in a begrudging tone (for the Shoemaker 
 was to call for the chair that evening) he gave the 
 invitation, and Sister Jessica entered. 
 
 "Ho! ho! ho!" he cried, with a changed and 
 happy manner, and brushing aside his work, "it's 
 you, my little angel. Glad, glad to see you, Miss 
 Jessie. And so you've brought me flowers again" 
 the Sister had given him the posy. "And I'm glad 
 there are Moss Roses here again; for Tammie now 
 likes 'em so." 
 
 "Does he?" 
 
 "Yes. It's strange you should bring the very
 
 216 Thomas Ruffm. 
 
 flowers lie has taken such a fancy to. I can't under 
 stand it, but Tammie has lately changed so about 
 flowers." 
 
 "Has he, though?" 
 
 "Yes, yes, he was always fond of flowers, and 
 Pinks were his favorite old fashioned, sweet Pinks 
 he had his own little Pink bed at Cloud Cap ' 
 and John Ruffin bent his head in tears. 
 
 "Don't cry, Mr. Ruffin," said the Sister, in her 
 sympathetic tones. "I must cease bringing flowers, 
 if in any way they cause you grief." 
 
 "No, no, Sister Jessie. Don't mind me. I can't 
 speak of dear old Cloud Cap without being a baby. 
 Yes, yes, all along it has been Pinks ! Pinks ! with 
 Tammie, but here lately it's nothing but Moss Roses. 
 He has a Moss almost every day in his button-hole. 
 And would you believe it, Miss Jessie ? last Mon 
 day morning I found an old faded Moss on his pil 
 low. I was so sorry I threw it away; for when I 
 told Tammie that night, he seemed really distressed, 
 and said it came from a friend." 
 
 "Indeed ! I wonder from whom ?" 
 
 "I should like to know myself. I can't under 
 stand it, why Tammie has changed so about flowers. 
 I've asked him over and over, but he makes the same 
 answer, that a young friend of his likes Mosses, and 
 so he has come to like Mosses, too." 
 
 "And does that seem to you altogether unreason 
 able, Mr. Ruffin!" 
 
 "No-o. But then, you see, I want to know his 
 friend's name, and Tammie won't tell me."
 
 Thomas Ruffin. 217 
 
 "How undutiful !" 
 
 "Not undutiful, Miss Jessie. Tanmiie can't be 
 undutiful. Just a little self-willed, you know. He 
 has always opened his heart to me so fully about 
 everything, that his holding back the name makes 
 me suspicious and fearful." 
 
 "Shame ! he should distress you." 
 
 "He doesn't mean to, dear child. Last Thursday 
 night I got almost mad with him, and told him, if 
 he wasn' t so old, I'd have half a mind to 'give him 
 Jessie' for refusing me so." 
 
 The unconscious word-play provoked a little laugh 
 from the Sister, whereat John Ruffin remarked : 
 
 'Why do you laugh, Miss Jessie? You do just 
 as Tammie did." 
 
 "How did hedioV' 
 
 "Why, when I spoke to him about 'giving him 
 Jessie,' he broke into a laugh, too. And what d'you 
 think he said?" 
 
 "I really can't imagine, Sir." 
 
 "Why, he said he was ready for punishment any 
 moment." 
 
 Sister Jessica was cons trained to repeat her laugh, 
 and John Ruffin again remarked upon it : 
 
 "And here you're laughing, too, when it's so 
 serious with me. I can't understand it I can't un 
 derstand it," And he started up with cane in hand, 
 and made a shuffling turn, in more real mental worry 
 than the good Sister was aware of. 
 
 "It's quite amusing," she remarked. 
 
 "Amusing, Sister Jessica !" the use of "Jessica"
 
 218 Thomas Ituffin. 
 
 indicating a little stiffness or ripple of indignation. 
 "How can you say so ? It's serious with me, serious. 
 I hope Tammie isn't making bad acquaintances " 
 he added with a sigh. 
 
 "I hope so, sincerely." 
 
 "I hope this friend won't lead him off. He's all 
 I've got now." 
 
 "You needn't be at all uneasy," spoke the Sister 
 encouragingly; for she now realized that John Ruffin 
 was in dead earnest touching his fears. 
 
 "But there are so many fast young men in the city 
 so many temptations." 
 
 "I do not think your son, from what you tell me 
 of him, at all likely to be led astray, Mr. Ruffin." 
 
 "I know he's good, almost an angel. But young 
 men are young men, Miss Jessie, flesh and blood, and 
 apt to be as those they run with. You see Tammie 
 has caught already this young man's fancy for Moss 
 es, and if he has bad ways, I fear Tammie may get 
 there." 
 
 "Mr. Ruffin, you need have no fears, I think." 
 
 "I wish very much I knew who this young man is. 
 Miss Jessie," he continued, after a moment's pause 
 in reflection, "Tammie tells me he has met you, and 
 he has been talking a great deal about you, and I 
 want to let you know, likes you so much. He may've 
 spoken to you about this friend. Have you any 
 idea, Miss Jessie, who he is?" 
 
 Sister Jessica now had occasion for a pause her 
 self, and was framing a reply, when Sabina broke in 
 and made a diversion in her favor.
 
 Thomas Ruffian. 219 
 
 "O Mr. Ruffin ! Mr. lluffin !" exclaimed the negro 
 woman with her usual enthusiasm, at the same time 
 exhibiting a torn and uprooted rose bush, "dat nasty 
 stinkin' little good-fur-nuthin' dorg gone and scratch 
 ed up Mr. Thomas' Moss Rose." 
 
 "Well, Sabina, make a hole and put it out again." 
 
 "An' dey kin make a hole fur dat dare little dorg, 
 too. Mister Thomas' 11 Mil him. He'll be all-fired 
 mad" closing her period with a vigorous guffaw. 
 Observing now Sister Jessica the Sister was sitting 
 apart and it was towards evening, and she had escap 
 ed Sabina' s eye the negro woman hastily retired, 
 having the audacity, as she passed out, to give Sister 
 Jessica a most irreverent wink. 
 
 "Miss Jessie," continued John Ruffin, as Sabina 
 closed the door after her, "I can't get over Tammie's 
 refusing to tell me his friend's name. He has never 
 done such a thing before, and I can't help feeling 
 anxious." 
 
 "You need not be, Sir, I repeat, from what you've 
 told me about your son. Don't worry, Mr. Ruffin." 
 
 "Yes, yes" suddenly assuming confidence "I'm 
 an old goose for feeling so, I krfow. Tammie's safe. 
 Ain't he, Miss Jessie? You don't suppose this 
 young man will lead him off?" 
 
 "I hope not, Sir." 
 
 "You hope not !" with disappointed air. "Can't 
 you be a little more positive ?" 
 
 "I think not." 
 
 "You think not ! Is that all-1, Sister Jessica ?"
 
 220 Thomas Ruffm. 
 
 "I am sure, then, Mr. Ruffin, your son's friend 
 will not lead him off." 
 
 "Thank you, Miss Jessie," he responded, speak 
 ing up. 
 
 "I am sure this friend will not do him the least 
 harm." 
 
 "O thank you, thank you, Miss Jessie," he again 
 responded, greatly pleased. 
 
 "I feel certain this friend's influence, as far as it 
 may extend, will be around him only for all that's 
 pure and good that she 
 
 "Wha-a-a-t! wha-a-a-t !" John Ruffin interrupted, 
 with amazement and alarm. "She-e-e ! Is it a slie-e-e, 
 Miss Jessie ? My Gfod !" 
 
 Sister Jessica saw she had touched with a needle 
 the morbid sensibilities of this old gentleman re 
 specting his son, and paused to consider how she 
 would smooth over her slip of the tongue. 
 
 "I say, Miss Jessie, is it a slie-e-e f" he vehemently 
 asked again, his alarm gathering force at the Sister's 
 delay to answer. 
 
 "Mr. Ruffin, there's no reason in the round world 
 for any alarm. Suppose it might be a she ? I reckon 
 the she's are as good as the he's." 
 
 "Oh-h-h ! Miss Jessie," he cried out, and speaking 
 in sentences interrupted by tears and sobs, "but this 
 must be a bad one. It's some bad one has turned 
 my Boy's head. That's the reason he's so shy 
 about it and won't tell her name. Here's my poor 
 Boy been, sleeping night after night with an old 
 faded Moss from one of these she-devils and
 
 Thomas Ruffin. 221 
 
 they'll draw Mm into their dives and the first 
 thing you know he'll be in trouble and get into 
 prison ! " 
 
 He ceased ; for he had blubbered outright, and 
 could proceed no further. The Sister was amazed. 
 She was fully aware of John Ruffin's morbidly exag 
 gerated sentiments towards Thomas; but had never 
 seen in him before anything approaching this. Going 
 up to him, she spoke to him sweetly, as she placed 
 her hand softly upon his bowed head : 
 
 "Mr. Ruffin, you must not do so you must not 
 do so. I declare my saying 'she' was a slip of the 
 tongue." 
 
 "Is it a 'he,' then?" he asked, eagerly catching at 
 the hope. 
 
 "It's dark and I must be going. Just one word : 
 You needn't have a particle of fear for your son 
 not a particle. / know this friend of his indeed, 
 I'm intimately acquainted with this friend." 
 
 "O I'm so glad, Miss Jessie," he spoke up with a 
 reassurred, happy, smiJing manner. "Any one 
 you're intimate with must be all right." 
 
 "And I tell you most positively, that this friend, 
 whatever be the reasons your son may have for with 
 holding the name, is not a bad one, is not a she-devil, 
 nor one capable of harming in any degree your son's 
 body, mind, or soul. Be satisfied with this, Mr. 
 Ruffin." 
 
 "I am, Sister Jessie, I am. I'm glad it's not a 
 'she.' I'm afraid of them, when boys are in it." 
 
 "And don't you think the 'he's' need some watch 
 ing, too ?"
 
 222 Thomas Rufin. 
 
 "No, no it's the 'she's' need it, Sister Jessie, the 
 'she's.' " 
 
 "Very well, Mr. Ruffin; and now I must bid you 
 good-bye. Be satisfied with what I have told you." 
 
 "I am, good Sister, I am." 
 
 Upon the Sister's departure John Ruffin rang up 
 Sabina and told her he was going to the Park, and 
 requested her to ask Miss Kitty to say to the "Shoe 
 maker," should he call for his chair, that the work 
 was not done, and that he could get it Monday even 
 ing. Sabina delivered the message, and presently 
 Miss Kitty thought it worth while to look in and see 
 if John Ruffin' s room was in proper order. Proba 
 bly, if the full truth were know, another reason may 
 have had its weight. Sandy Johnson long had been 
 laying siege to her heart, and while Miss Kitty was 
 not deaf to the eloquence which, in its way, he un 
 doubtedly possessed (for she had a fund of sharp 
 sense herself and could appreciate it in others), and 
 in truth liked the man, yet there lingered a feeling, 
 that the Housekeeper at The Home was a little above 
 the position of a shoemaker. This feeling, however 
 it really had no sound support had almost, if not 
 altogether, given way before Sandy's pushing and 
 captivating address and his improving condition. For 
 Sandy now was one who saved his money. He had 
 accumulated a little pile had a cosy home never 
 got drunk these days and, not the least, Friend 
 Peale, whose name was weighty at The Home, was 
 his fast friend. Withal, each had known the joys 
 of wedded life; for she was a widow and he, a wid-
 
 TJiomas Ruffin. 223 
 
 ower. It was not unlikely, therefore, that one of the 
 reasons for looking into John Ruffin' s room at this 
 particular time, may have been Sandy's anticipated 
 visit. Be that as it may, it is certain, that, when 
 she came in, she gave evidence of having bestowed 
 more than usual attention upon her personal appear 
 ance and was smarter looking than common. 
 
 Before long there came a rap at the private en 
 trance door, followed by an admittance. 
 
 "Mistress Kitty!" exclaimed Sandy Johnson (for 
 he it was), agreeably surprised at the meeting. 
 "The peace o' the e'enin' to ye, Mistress Kitty. Yer 
 ainsel's the daisy ye hae iver been." 
 
 "Be aisy, Sandy Johnson, be aisy with yer blar 
 ney. I'm in a quandary a managin' The Home. Don't 
 I look so ?" 
 
 "In a quandary ? Na, God bless us a'. Indeed, 
 ye don't." 
 
 "Well, I am, and can ye help a troubled soul 
 what to do ?" 
 
 "In quandaries, some say, cut the Bible for a cue." 
 
 "Cut the Boible for a cue ?" 
 
 "Yes, yes, Mistress Kitty that's what she used 
 to do, me auld wine Sue rest her soul" (signing the 
 cross). "In ony trouble she gaed aside wi' her Bible, 
 cut the Buik, and the first words her een lighted on, 
 gied her guidance. That's what I ca' cuttin' for a 
 cue." 
 
 "And do you think I'd juggle the loike o' that 
 with God Almighty's Holy Word 3" 
 
 "Noo, Mistress Kitty, juist let me gie ye a story.
 
 224 Thomas Muffin. 
 
 I hed it frae me wifie's crony liersel', wlia was a 
 Bible-cutter, too. It's her ain real experience, and 
 a' true to the verra letter." 
 
 Miss Kitty was attention, and Sandy proceeded : 
 
 "Weel : 'Twas late ae lonely night, when the city 
 was a settlin' into sleep beneath the simmer stars, 
 that her son, a walkin' hame, cam up wi' a lassie, 
 whase manner showed sae great distress, that his 
 tender soul spak kindly to her. At the word she 
 burstit into tears, sayin' she lied juist reachit the 
 city, knew naebody, and hed nae place to gang to. 
 The young mon was touchit, and, acting on the im 
 pulse, took her to his hame and asked his widow 
 mother to lodge her. The auld leddy was dumb 
 founded in a quandary, Mistress Kitty. Wha was 
 this lassie \ A thief 2 or worse ? or what na \ But 
 she wadna turn her into the street again. The only 
 bed was by her daughter's side, and that she gied her. 
 
 When a' hed retired, the auld leddy, sa troubled 
 in mind, sought her Bible for guidance the morrow. 
 Thrae times she cut the 'Bmk^-t7irae times, Mistress 
 Kitty. First she read : 
 
 'Let britherly love continue.' 
 
 Thin: 
 
 'Use hospitality ane to anither.' 
 
 Thin : 
 
 'Some hae entertained angels unawares.' 
 
 Weel, weel ! she cried within hersel', as she press 
 ed the Holy Buik to her heart, surely the Lord's 
 finger is guiding me. The lassie maunna leave. 
 
 Next day employment was found for her. A
 
 Thomas Ruffin. 225 
 
 correspondence followed, showing her in a gudely 
 light, and confirming her story, that she hed fled 
 frae a step-father's heavy hand. 
 
 And what's mair, Mistress Kitty, the young mon 
 fell in love -fell in love, Mistress Kitty. They were 
 married, and now are happy in each ithers arms. 
 That' s what I ca' cnttin' the Bible for a cue." 
 
 "Begone ! with sich divilment, Sandy Johnson." 
 
 "Aweel ! aweel ! Hae yer will haeyerwill. But 
 the story's naething, if na true. And what a blith- 
 some eending. Mistress Kitty ! If your quandary 
 cud only hae an eending like that !" 
 
 Miss Kitty saw matters were getting interesting 
 and maintained an equivocal silence. Sandy thought 
 the circumstance not unfavorable, and continued : 
 
 "And as for quandaries, Mistress Kitty, I'm in a 
 quandary, too. Canna ye help a troubled soul what 
 to do?" 
 
 "Yes eat yer own dish and cut the Boible for a 
 cue." 
 
 "Sae I hae, Mistress Kitty, sae I hae. Twice I 
 opened the leaves; and wh#t d'ye think I read?" 
 
 "Most loikely where it's said jugglers and sich 
 loike are burned up thegither." 
 
 "Na, na. I read : 'Love ane anither.' " 
 
 "And what think ye I read next?" 
 
 "Begone ! Sandy Johnson, with yer foolishness 
 and rhyme." 
 
 "Mistress Kitty, Iread:'Now's the accepted time." 
 
 Miss Kitty again was silent. Sandy saw it was the 
 opportunity of his life and resolved to do his level 
 15
 
 226 Thomas Ruffin. 
 
 best. As lie went on, enthused by Ms subject, the 
 varions shop terms pegs, last, awl, wax, &c. came 
 in handily, indirectly and directly, to illustrate his 
 affection, and reinforce the amatory appeal. And 
 further, he had carefully composed and committed 
 a triplet of rough lines, setting forth both the extent 
 of his assets and the strength of his devotion, to be 
 cast the first chance at Miss Kitty with lover's aim; 
 and he realized the moment had now come to use the 
 lines for all they were worth, as the climax of his 
 effort. So, drawing his chair close to her side, he 
 said softly, as he looked sweet upon her : 
 
 "Mistress Kitty, ae wee word frae you and wha, 
 in a' the round world, wad be sae happy as Sandy 
 Johnson ?" Pause. 
 
 "Mistress Kitty, how to bring matters to a pint, 
 that's my quandary. I hae tried and tried to win 
 yer consent. A lang, lang time hae I pegged awa' 
 at it. But ye wad pat me off. Canna ye say that 
 wee word noo ?" Pause. 
 
 "Mistress Kitty, ye' re the last I shall iver gie hand 
 and heart to." (Sandy while in the term "last" assu 
 ring Miss Kitty she was the only one who would ever 
 capture him had in mind, too, no doubt, the needful 
 wooden model to which he had stuck so long and so 
 faithfully, as technically and fitly illustrating how 
 faithful he would prove to the Housekeeper). "Ye' re 
 my all, I canna wark or live without ye." (Here 
 again, perhaps, Sandy speaks somewhat in a figure, 
 and it is a question whether his utterance should be 
 written down "all," or "awl," the indispensable
 
 TJtomas Ruffin. 227 
 
 tool of his craft. Very probably he means another 
 alluring pun). "The thread o' my life rins sae close 
 to yer ain, whyna twist and wax the twa thegither ? 
 Scotch and Irish union beats creation." *Pause, and 
 then Sandy crowns his appeal : 
 "Mistress Kitty, 
 
 I wark sae and' sae, but I wad wark like a nigger 
 I hae a wee pile, but the pile wad get bigger 
 I hae a snig hame, but me hame wad be snigger, 
 Gin ye wad only say that ae wee word." 
 
 Miss Kitty had been giving a willing ear, and 
 Sandy had found her hand, and his arm had stolen 
 round her waist, when, most unfortunately, an in 
 terruption was precipitated. John Ruffin had now 
 returned from a short stroll in the Park. He had 
 come in by the main door, and Sabina accompanied 
 him to his room, to do the routine evening service. 
 The inner door of his apartment was ajar and moved 
 noiselessly on the hinges that Sabina kept well oiled; 
 and Miss Kitty and Sandy, with backs towards this 
 door, were absorbed so entirely in each other, that 
 they did not hear their partial entrance. 
 
 "What's up there?" whispered John Ruffin to 
 Sabina from the door-way, peering with his dim eyes 
 through the twilight gloom. 
 
 "Sh-h-h ! de Shoemaker and Miss Kitty," Sabina 
 responded sotto voce, shaking one hand for silence, 
 and with the other stuffing into her mouth, as she 
 ceased speaking, a corner of the apron, to suppress 
 the guffaw. 
 
 "The scamp !" John Ruffin whispered back. "He's 
 measuring her middle instead of her foot,"
 
 228 Thomas Ru~ffin. 
 
 It is barely possible that Sabina's power of self- 
 restraint, aided by the apron, could have managed 
 the guffaw, even under the stimulus of John Ruffin's 
 obseryation. But, unluckily, it was just" at this 
 particular moment that Sandy sealed what he con 
 sidered a surrender with a smack, and the guffaw 
 that had been struggling and gathering force, burst 
 out rousing and irrepressible. 
 
 "Mother o' God !" exclaimed Miss Kitty, suddenly 
 rising at the discovery and flirting away Sandy and 
 scowling on him with virtuous indignation, arm 
 akimbo, "what d'ye mane, Sandy Johnson! It's 
 little I'd thought ye'd take sich liberty ! Beelzebub 
 fly away with ye'! Ye' re drunk,, Sandy Johnson, 
 and if me brither Mike was here, he'd be afther 
 givin' ye a blackthorn! Out with ye, ye hay then 
 crayture; and whin ye be sobered, ye may come for 
 the cheer !" 
 
 So saying. Miss Kitty marched out; and Sandy, 
 too, after a word from John Ruflin touching the. 
 chair, soon left by the private door, on the whole 
 very well satisfied and enjoying a hearty laugh in 
 his sleeve.
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 IN THE PARK. 
 
 "One of the most trying ills of life is this long- 
 continued, clear, dry, beautiful weather," said the 
 gum-shoe man. 
 
 Truly, the day was lovely, for the season. A glo 
 rious sun shone bright and warm in a sky without a 
 fleck of a cloud; and while "Bob," under Noals' 
 guidance, is awaiting an opportunity to entrap 
 Thomas Ruffin and get an impression of his Bank 
 key, the reader will be told how the latter availed 
 himself of the fine open weather for gratifying an 
 earnest wish on the part of Friend Peale. The 
 warm-hearted Quaker never had laid eyes on John 
 Ruffin, since he had left him at death's door in his 
 wife's hands at Cloud Cap, and often had expressed 
 the wish that he might see, unobserved, his old 
 friend. At first an arrangement was out of the ques 
 tion. The state of John Ruffin' s health and wintry 
 weather kept him within doors almost the entire 
 time. Under change of environment and good nurs 
 ing his condition began to improve slowly, yet 
 perceptibly. The Winter, too, drawing to its close, 
 grew less rigorous, with many an open balmy day
 
 230 Thomas itnfin. 
 
 here and there; and John Ruffm would go out, often 
 with Thomas, sometimes with Sabina, and of late 
 not unfrequently by himself. 
 
 To-night (Thursday), his night at The Home, with 
 weather prospects so favorable, Thomas thought a 
 meeting could be arranged in the Park. At noon, 
 therefore, having a half hour off, he saw Friend 
 Peale and designated the particular spot where he 
 and his wife (for Friend Peale declared Martha would 
 not miss accompanying him) should be at 8 p. m. 
 In a certain part of the Park or Square, well known 
 to Friend Peale he often had occasion to pass 
 through the grounds there was a narrow, encircling 
 walk, and at a certain point in said walk a side seat, 
 and just opposite to this seat were double seats; and 
 the shrubbery and lamps were so arranged, that the 
 former seat was in full light the latter, in shade. 
 It was arranged that at the above hour Friend Peale 
 and his wife would be occupying one of the double 
 seats. 
 
 That afternoon Friend Peale met Sandy Johnson, 
 spoke of the arrangement, and suggested that Sandy 
 go with them. Sandy readily assented, saying he 
 would meet Friend Peale at his residence, and bring, 
 too, the pair of shoes due this day. The jolly Quaker 
 was especially fond of the jolly Shoemaker. They 
 had known each other long and well, and a further 
 bond at present was a common interest in the Ruffins. 
 Each possessed a fund of humor. Rarely did they 
 meet without trying conclusions. It was rare, too, 
 that the Shoemaker came out second best. Sandy
 
 Thomas Muffin. 231 
 
 was on full time, with shoes in hand, and, while Mrs. 
 Peale was getting ready, one of the usual little en 
 counters occurred. 
 
 "Ah ! ah ! walk in, Alexander, walk in," was the 
 hearty salutation of Friend Peale, who had just had 
 a visit from one of the preachers of his church. "O 
 thou mender of soles, had theebeen somewhat sooner, 
 thee would have met a fellow-worker. One of thy 
 craft has just been here." 
 
 "And wha might he be ?" 
 
 "A preacher." 
 
 "Ha ! ha ! ha ! a preacher ! By the bye, I hae a 
 gude ane on a preacher." 
 
 "Thee is ever ready with 'good ones.' Well, what 
 new jest is this" 
 
 "Laist week a preacher moved frae a hoose near 
 me ain. Yesterday, an auld leddy moved in. And 
 what d'ye think she told me she found in a back 
 closet?" 
 
 "Old sermons most likely full of spiritual conso 
 lation." 
 
 "Ha! ha! ha! The covers were thar, but the con 
 solation a' gane. She found twenty -Jive empty 
 whiskey bottles, labelled frae almaist as mony differ 
 ent drug stores." 
 
 "Come! Alexander, spare the cloth." 
 
 "Sae I will let me feenish; for the label read: 
 'For medeecinal use only.' Ha! ha! ha! It's a 
 gude ane, or I'm nae son of St. Crispin." 
 
 "Thee is a better son of St. Pasquin as full of 
 jibes as the old Naples cobbler."
 
 232 Thomas Ruffin. 
 
 "I gied a fac', na a jibe, Sir." 
 
 "But a sort of fact" Friend Peale remarked, 
 smiling genially "thee seems to hug and dance over. 
 Cobblers are railers by trade, eh ? So much cutting 
 and punching at the bench, beget a cutting, punch 
 ing habit in the mind, eh S" 
 
 "It's wrang, Friend Peale," responded Sandy with 
 mock solemnity, "to pint oot a wrang and use nae 
 effort to right it. Ye hae mad an ugjy charge upon 
 me character, and ye' 11 be in the wrang yer ain sel', 
 gin ye canna gie a remedy." 
 
 "Well turn Quaker." 
 
 ' 'Humph ! I' m a quaker noo. Yer ain sharp tongue 
 maks me a quaker a quaker for me reputation." 
 "Ha! ha! ha! Where's a better wit than the 
 cobbler?" 
 
 "I may cast a spark and mak wit to be in ithers, 
 if nae mair." 
 
 "Thee shall be called the merry cobbler, Alexan 
 der." 
 
 "A merry cobbler ! Weel a day ! If ye wad see 
 me a merry cobbler, gie me a sherry cobbler." 
 
 "Ha! ha! ha! Thee is Alexander the Great in 
 thy way. 
 
 Well, I see thee has the shoes. Thee is ever 
 punctual. This be the day and the hour to deliver 
 thy handicraft." 
 
 "Punctual as the pay, St. Crispin bless yer Rev 
 erence." 
 
 "A truce to 'your .Reverence,' Alexander. Ill it 
 sits on Scotch lips; for it savors not of Scotch faith.
 
 TJiomas Ruffin. 233 
 
 And thee will apply it, when thee knows we Friends 
 set little store on its under thought of priestly form 
 and ceremony." 
 
 "Oor faiths are nigher kin than some may think, 
 Friend Peale. The corn grows wi' a husk. The 
 kernel lies sweet in its shell. The church hae a form 
 and a ceremony. But sure, Sir, the church hae 
 anither side, and her ain sel' is where mon gies mon 
 his hand in the Master's spirit. These mony years 
 hae I seen that spirit in Friend Peale deep and pure; 
 and 'yer Reverence' is a way I hae of touchin' me 
 cap to it." 
 
 Friend Peale, of course, had nothing else to do but 
 reply with a profound bow; and Sandy, in respond 
 ing with another of like quality, made a vigorous 
 scrape with his right lower extremity, bringing the 
 calf into violent contact with his chair, plumb against 
 a healing but tender ulcer. 
 
 "Umph !" he cried out lustily, with a twinge of 
 that morbid exaltation of sensibility called pain, as 
 a scowl sat upon his face and the palm went rubbing 
 the wounded member. 
 
 "Good lack ! Alexander ! What ails thee, man?" 
 
 "Hit the sore on me leg, Sir. A bad, bad ane. A 
 week it laid me up." 
 
 "And has pulled thee down, too. When I think 
 of it, thee looks a little worsted. The doctor's salve, 
 I hope, is making thee whole." 
 
 "Makin' me whole ! Ha ! ha ! ha ! It mad the 
 hole worse, yer Reverence. Ane o' thase pill-an'- 
 powder laddies tried his hand. He gied it a lang
 
 234 Thomas Ruffin. 
 
 name, physicked a lang time, and hes, nae doubt, a 
 lang bill." 
 
 "And thee had no benefit?" 
 
 "Na. The ulcer grew worse. Pains ran a' down 
 into me foot and toe and I thocht I hed the goot." 
 
 "I can tell thee, Alexander, where thee will never 
 have the gout." 
 
 Sandy gave a look of inquiry, and the response 
 came : 
 
 "In thy tongue." 
 
 "Ha! ha! ha!" 
 
 "Ah ! well. Thee may doctor thy broken skin 
 thyself. Thee is familiar with skins and patches." 
 
 "Sud I gang a doctoring, yer Reverence, I wad hae 
 a doctor's wisdom and na doctor mysel'. Na, na. 
 An auld woman cam in, clapped on her poultice, 
 and here I be up and oot. Nae mair doctors to pat 
 up a job on me." 
 
 "Well, well, let's see what sort of a job thee has 
 put up on myself. Why, look here, my man, these 
 'soles" scrutinizing the shoes "seem somewhat 
 broad." 
 
 "And gude reason, yer Reverence yer foot is 
 somewhat broad." 
 
 "Come! come! Alexander. There was a 'drap' 
 too much, I ween, when thee made the measure." 
 
 "I'll lose the wage on a misfit, Sir. Try the shune. 
 It's the shune o' thine ain sel', broad-brimmed and 
 broad-soled" no doubt Sandy meant to include 
 "broad-souled" "frae tap tae toe." 
 
 "A smooth and ready tongue thou hast. Thy
 
 Thomas Ruffin. 235 
 
 wage" handing the money. "The sum I know by 
 repetition. With rise and fall of awls and pegs and 
 hides, through all these years the price hath kept 
 one point" (nod and grin of satisfaction from Sandy) 
 "placed high and safe in profit's margin." 
 
 "Ha! ha! ha! A sharp turn, yer Reverence." 
 
 "Thee has taught me such tricks. But I must 
 leave thee a moment, and wish thee profitable re 
 flections, while 1 hurry up the Madam," continued 
 Friend Peale, as he consulted his watch. "It's time 
 we be going." 
 
 "Thar gangs a mon" was Sandy's comment, as 
 Friend Peale left the room "fu' o' juist preenciples 
 and seentiments a chreestian wi' a polish on a 
 head light, nae penny dip.!" 
 
 Friend Peale and wife anon appeared, the latter 
 in garment of fine texture and true Quaker style 
 neat, simple, comfortable, and distinctive and su 
 perior, pure taste should say, to the shifting fash 
 ions of the day. They at once left for the Park, and 
 at 8 p. m. were occupying the seat that had been 
 chosen. 
 
 To revert to Thomas he reached The Home earlier 
 than usual, soon after dark. The evening was a 
 beautiful one, as he had anticipated, clear and starry 
 and mild; and after supper he proposed to his Father 
 a walk in the Park. It was a favorite resort to John 
 Ruffin, as has been said. The cosy seats and shelters, 
 showy shrubbery, smooth clean walks, and well kept 
 grounds generally, made it one of the most inviting 
 Squares in the city; and under its brilliant lights it
 
 236 Thomas Ruffin. 
 
 was frequented by night, as well as by day, even in 
 Winter, when the weather allowed. 
 
 To John Ruffin there were two special attractions. 
 The fine trees were one, whereof there were many, 
 with almost as many varieties Pin Oak, Ash, Elm, 
 Silver Maple, Sugar Maple, Tulip Poplar, Button- 
 wood, &c., &c. He never had seen them in foliage. 
 But they were noble of size and proportion many 
 venerable for age a number representative of Cloud 
 Cap flora all representative of the woods and the 
 forest to which he had been accustomed, and hence 
 objects of specific interest. 
 
 The other attraction were the ancient churches, 
 either bordering the Square, or but a stone's throw 
 away, all memorials of the preceding century, show 
 ing thorough workmanship, walls so ample, no mean 
 saving of material, and architecture all of correct 
 type. Here stood one of Doric style, with plain 
 massy pillars, curling capitals, and extended portico. 
 And near this, a Corinthian edifice, with channelled 
 pillar and garish frieze. And over against these, 
 on the other side of the Square, an ancient Quaker 
 Meeting House, marked by the rigid simplicity 
 characteristic of that .denomination, no tower, no 
 spire, no clerestory, gable fronting the street, and 
 encircled by a wall, with coping and gates, all so 
 high and thick and strong and massive, as to resem 
 ble rather the inclosure to a fortress. It delighted 
 John Ruffin to wander through these historic edifi 
 ces, as he had done recently by himself once or twice 
 and note the solid handiwork, and fine arches, and
 
 Thomas Ruffin. 237 
 
 square-boxed pews, and read the mural tablets and 
 the marble set in the aisles, commemorative of per 
 sonages and heroes and statesmen of old who de 
 parted this life in the odor of sanctity. 
 
 Thomas found the Peales and Sandy Johnson 
 seated, as had been agreed upon. With his Father 
 leaning upon his arm in a way so clinging and con 
 tented-looking, he slowly walked a number of times 
 up and down just in front of, and near to, the set 
 tee. Next, they seated themselves on the settee op 
 posite, with the light directly upon them. The 
 Peales had a full view and scarce could believe their 
 eyes. They were prepared to see great change, but 
 not the wreck before them. Could this man so old, 
 so gray, so bent and broken be the. remains of the 
 hearty, bright-eyed, high-bred John Ruffin of less 
 than two years back ? They were astonished and 
 never would have recognized him. 
 
 Presently, there was another walk, and then 
 Thomas, with his Father by him, took the vacant 
 settee abutting that occupied by the Peales and 
 Sandy. These settees were on the inner side of the 
 circular walk, and, conforming to the curve, their 
 abutting ends made an outer angle in such wise 
 that Thomas, who sat next to the Peales, cut off 
 their view from his Father. As they turned to be 
 seated, John Ruffin noticed the presence of strangers, 
 but not seeing them after being seated, directly he 
 forgot them, spoke freely to Thomas and was over 
 heard easily. 
 
 An incident gave the first direction to the conver-
 
 238 Thomas Ruffin. 
 
 sation. Scarcely had they become seated, when a 
 beggar approached and extended his hand. He had 
 recognized John Ruffin on his entering the Square, 
 and had followed, watching an opportunity to ask 
 an alms. The reader has been told that John Ruffin 
 often asked Thomas for pennies, to give to the "poor 
 beggars" he would meet on his strolls. The beggars 
 soon came to know their man, as well as his custom 
 ary walks and hours, and would be on the lookout 
 for him. And in the course of this narrative it will 
 appear there were at times thievish characters among 
 them, and they would impose on John Ruffin, after 
 getting a penny going ahead and soliciting again at 
 the next corner a matter the Blue Coats had begun 
 to notice, and more than one of these characters had 
 been threatened and driven off. 
 
 John Ruffin began fumbling in his pocket, but 
 Thomas, though he did not relish the fellow's looks, 
 anticipated his Father and gave the penny. As the 
 beggar walked off, John Ruffin observed, evidently 
 with a personal bearing in the thought : 
 
 "That poor beggar may be happy, Tammie, though 
 the world doesn't think so." 
 
 Thomas had his own notion touching the fellow's 
 being a poor beggar or a worthy beggar, but replied 
 to the general idea in the latter clause of his Father's 
 sentence : 
 
 "The world, Father, often thinks one way, when 
 the truth is just the other way." 
 
 "That's so, Tammie." 
 
 "The world, for example, thinks it nonsense to say
 
 Thomas Muffin. 239 
 
 the rich are wretched, or that happiness stands in 
 tears," continued Thomas, having in mind how often 
 in his own trials and prayers, refreshment would 
 follow a flood of tears. 
 
 "That's so. I used to think Tammie never would 
 catch on and kept heaping up a pile to take care of 
 him, and here Tammie' s taking care of me." 
 
 "And you mean, too, Father, you're not so un 
 happy, because it's so." 
 
 "I do, I do, my Son. Ought I to be unhappy, when 
 I'm like the Lord?" replied John Ruffin, an attend 
 ant upon whose affliction was the development of a 
 strong religious vein. "Wasn't the Lord poor, 
 Tammie?" 
 
 "Yes, He was poor, Father born poor, lived poor, 
 and died poor." 
 
 "And had no place to lay His head not as well 
 off as the tramps, Tammie." 
 
 "And so is a comfort to the poorest." 
 
 "And the angels ministered to Him, too." 
 
 "Yes on one occasion at least, the Bible tells us." 
 
 "And you, Tammie, are sent to take care of me, 
 and I thank God and am happy, my Son." 
 
 "I wish, Tammie," he continued, as another 
 thought came across his mind, "you could go out 
 with me oftener in the day." 
 
 "I wish so, too." 
 
 "I would show you, then, the churches here." 
 
 "I've seen them, Father often. What would you 
 show me of special interest?" 
 
 "The pillars and the carvings. They're fine. Such
 
 240 Thomas Ruffin. 
 
 fine work. But finer, I've read, in the old world." 
 
 "And finest, Father, in the other world, as you'll 
 one day see," remarked Thomas ; for religion is in 
 harmony with the love of the ideal that slumbers in 
 every breast. 
 
 "What d'you mean, Tammie?" 
 
 "I fear you would not understand me," replied 
 Thomas, who saw now his mistake in having sug 
 gested an idea which he should have known would 
 excite his Father's curiosity, yet one it would be 
 difficult, perhaps, to explain to him. 
 
 "But I must know, Tammie, what you know 
 about the other world." 
 
 "I mean, then, that wise and holy men who write 
 about such things, tell us that all these beautiful 
 things that come from man's hand do you under 
 stand me, Father?" 
 
 "I think I do." 
 
 "that all these beautiful things, as a painting 
 or a chiseled marble, or the beauty we see in these 
 things I fear, Father, I shall only worry you by 
 talking so." 
 
 "No, no. Go on, Tammie. Anyhow, I love to 
 hear you talk." 
 
 "that the beauty we see in these things, such as 
 paintings or chiseled marble, are just the shadows 
 from patterns or originals of perfect beauty that fill 
 the heavenly world and make a delight for those 
 who go there." 
 
 John Ruffin paused in reflection, and presently 
 Thomas added :
 
 Thomas Ruffi/n. 241 
 
 "I am reading a holy book that tells of these 
 things." 
 
 "I'm glad you' re reading and thinking of the other 
 world. All these troubles are good, if they make 
 you think of the other world, Tammie." 
 
 "Very true, Father.' 11 
 
 "/ think of the other world every morning, when 
 I get up, and every night before I go to bed and all 
 through the day. It's the only question. Isn't it, 
 Tammie?" 
 
 "Yes, Father, the only real question. Every man 
 in his senses must solemnly ask it some time or 
 other." 
 
 "There is a church near here," Thomas continued, 
 "in which I myself have a warm interest." 
 
 "Which is it?" 
 
 "The old Quaker Meeting House over there." 
 
 "O yes, I know with the high wall." 
 
 "It's a very old church built years and years ago 
 in the far away past." 
 
 "I like what's away back," remarked John Ruffin, 
 catching at the idea of the "past," which, as an out 
 come of his misfortunes, had taken on exceptional 
 magnitude and worth. "Everything in the past looks 
 to be bigger. Things were better then, Tammie 
 men were stronger then, Tammie." 
 
 "Yes, Father," replied Thomas, whose admirations 
 also lay in the past, "I believe pretty much as you 
 do. The men of past ages appear to have been 
 stronger." 
 
 "To be sure, Tammie. Sampson was in the past, 
 and wasn't he the strongest man ?"
 
 242 Thomas Ruffin. 
 
 "I don't speak of muscle, Father, though it may 
 be true of muscle. I speak of life in its higher forms. 
 Life seems to have been stronger, more intense then 
 on every line. Religious life was more intense, with 
 the hermit for its representative." 
 
 "Those who prayed in caves, Tammie " 
 
 "Yes, Father. And political and military life was 
 more intense, with the nobleman for its representa 
 tive." 
 
 "You've been reading another book, haven't you, 
 Tammie?" asked John Uuffin, with a general idea of 
 what his son had delivered. 
 
 "No, Father. What I've said is from the same 
 book I spoke of just now." 
 
 "You and the book are right, Tammie. No use 
 talking no times like the old times. No such men 
 these days. No noblemen these days." 
 
 "But, Father, we mustn't go to extremes. There 
 are many strong and good men now, as there were 
 many weak and bad men in the past. We are speak 
 ing of ages, or the tendency or drift of ages do you 
 understand me, Father?" 
 
 "I think I do." 
 
 "And our age, as an age, appears to me to be one 
 intense only for loving and for making money; and 
 its representative is an acquaintance of mine in this 
 very city named Black Isaac." 
 
 "What! what's that, Tammie. Are you making 
 acquaintances among black men ?" 
 
 Just at this moment there happened to be on the 
 other settee a little commotion, yet audible enough,
 
 Thomas Ruffin. 243 
 
 Thomas feared, to attract his Father's attention. He 
 cleared his throat once or twice and looked around, 
 pausing necessarily, and his Father, in ignorance of 
 the cause of the pause, repeated the question in tones 
 significant of deepened astonishment : 
 
 "I say, Tammie, is it possible you're making ac 
 quaintances among black men ?" 
 
 "No, Father, no I mean he's a black-hearted 
 man." 
 
 "Good gracious, my son !" cried out John Ruffin 
 in consternation and turning full upon Thomas, 
 "making acquaintances and. friends among BLACK 
 HEARTED men !" 
 
 There was another little shaking up on the adjoin 
 ing settee, and Thomas had occasion again to clear 
 his throat very distinctly, yet was prompt to answer 
 and reassure his Father : 
 
 "No, no. no, Father you don't understand me. 
 I'm not intimate with any black-hearted man, I as 
 sure you. Certainly not. But in the Bank I have 
 business dealings, more or less, with persons of such 
 character. I simply know this man. He's no friend 
 of mine." 
 
 "O !" responded John Ruffin in an accent of relief. 
 
 "I was speaking, Father, of the old Quaker Church. 
 It has a special interest for me, because a good and 
 true friend of mine worships there." 
 
 "What's his name?" 
 
 "I had better not say, perhaps." 
 
 "Yes, but you 7iad, Tammie." 
 
 "It might not please you,"
 
 244 Thomas Ru-ffin. 
 
 "But it will please me; for isn't any friend of 
 yours a friend of mine ? And I promise to like him 
 before you name him." 
 
 "It's Friend Peale, Father." 
 
 John Ruffin was silent. 
 
 "Don't you remember Friend Peale, Father?" 
 Thomas asked after a moment's pause. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Don't you know how fond of him you used to 
 be?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "You haven't changed towards him, Father, have 
 you ?" 
 
 "O no but hemay've changed towards poor me." 
 
 "I tell you, Father, he has not changed. He is 
 still a dear and a close friend to me and to you, 
 too, in spirit dearer and closer than ever, and it 
 would delight him to have you let me bring him to 
 you, that he may tell you himself how warm his 
 heart is towards you." 
 
 Thomas was conscious of a movement on the other 
 settee, and feared lest the warm-hearted Quaker, 
 under the unexpected circumstances of the situation, 
 might come forward and make a scene. He cau 
 tioned with a backward movement of the hand, as 
 his Father replied : 
 
 "You know, Tammie, how I've felt towards some 
 other people." 
 
 "Yes, Father, I do; but I hope you're getting over 
 that feeling. You don't feel altogether as you did, 
 Father, do you ?"
 
 Thomas Ruffin. 245 
 
 "May be not." 
 
 "And if you can't see Friend Peale now, you may 
 let him see you one of these days ?" 
 
 "May be so. Come, my son, it's getting late. 
 Let-us go." 
 
 On the way back to The Home Thomas had good 
 reason for indulging in pleasing reflections. He had 
 just recognized for the first time an evident change 
 for the better in his Father's sentiments touching 
 his friends of other days. Never before had he 
 spoken to him so directly and plainly respecting 
 them, and he rejoiced to find no repulse. It was 
 another sign of a general improvement. He felt he 
 saw the day approaching, when his Father would 
 welcome Friend Peale and other old friends and ac 
 quaintances, and an opening up of channels of hap 
 piness for himself (so much needed now), as well 
 as for him which affliction's hand for the time had 
 held closed. 
 
 The Peales and Sandy parted for home at the en 
 trance to the Park, after some earnest words touch 
 ing what they had just seen and heard. The 
 Peales walked on in silence, each absorbed in re 
 newed reflections upon John Ruffin's pitiable fate. 
 The tragedy never had appeared so vivid yesterday 
 the magnificence of Cloud Cap, so goodly a heritage, 
 such fullness of substance and of joy today stripped 
 bare and inmate at The Home ! 
 
 "The changes of earth !" exclaimed Friend Peale 
 within himself, as he dwelt on all this "how sud 
 den ! how unforeseen ! how overwhelming ! No
 
 246 Thomas Jtuffin. 
 
 change there," glancing up at the stars, whose singu 
 lar radiance caught his eye at the moment and gave 
 direction to the thought. "Change, change here ! 
 None there among the everlasting stars, since the 
 first records of the constellations were made, hundreds 
 and hundreds of years ago but the same calm, se 
 rene, peaceful appearance ! There is the identical 
 configuration," he continued within himself, noting 
 the Great Dipper at the zenith, "that my Father 
 pointed out to me, when a boy that Galileo, and 
 Plato, and Aristotle have described, speeding their 
 giant spheres athwart the heavens, unchanged by the 
 minutest fraction of an inch that science can dis 
 cover ! And there, descending the western sky, are 
 the "Pleiades" and the "Bands of Orion," just as 
 Job beheld them in the land of Uz, unchanged 
 through thousands of years ! Change, change here ! 
 No change there ! Perhaps they are our homes, our 
 final homes, these mighty spheres, and their change 
 less courses signs of our destiny, tokens of rest and 
 peace without change, without end their very 
 movements day by day, through the Creator's be 
 neficent hand, suggesting visibly, to those with eyes 
 to see, a support against all change and bitterness 
 below !"
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 BOB'S JOB. 
 
 The thread of the plot concocted in the fertile 
 and malignant brains of the Pawnbroker and Noals, 
 was dropped at the point where it had been settled 
 that the globe-trotter, Robert Small, should hocus- 
 pocus Thomas Ruffin out of an impression of the 
 key for the Bank' s rear door. The thread will be 
 picked up here. This key, it .has been stated, had 
 been given by Black Isaac to Thomas for his per 
 sonal use. The former, indeed, had fulfilled his 
 promise to provide Noals with a duplicate key. 
 This had been done the day following the last inter 
 view between them, already detailed. Yet it was 
 deemed expedient to have Bob do the job, though it 
 necessitated some delay, as a test of his skill and 
 good faith. 
 
 It was arranged, therefore, between Robert and 
 Noals (the interview, as all the others, being under 
 cover of darkness, and Noals, of course, disguised 
 as a cracksman), that Robert, in disguise furnished 
 by Noals and representing a Pen and Ink Agent or 
 Pedlar, should try to get in his fine piece of work 
 the following Wednesday evening at early candle
 
 248 Thomas Ruffm. 
 
 light. Should he succeed, the key would be made 
 next day, and that night (Thursday) the scheme 
 finally carried through, with Robert's departure 
 abroad on the morrow. 
 
 Bob, whose appetite for adventure had become 
 sharpened by long abstinence, entered into the 
 scheme with spirit ; and being withal the smartest 
 sort of a fellow, whose wit had not been dulled a 
 whit by his manifold experiences, he had made, as 
 he conceived, a brilliant preparation, whereof a fea 
 ture were certain lines puffing the Pens he was to 
 hawk, and which he repeated to Noals, to the lat 
 ter' s complete satisfaction. 
 
 Now, it fell out that John Ruffin, that identical 
 Wednesday evening, made one of his secret visits to 
 the Bank. It will be remembered that he had early 
 expressed an earnest desire to visit the Bank, both 
 to see his son's surroundings, and to make the ac 
 quaintance of Dalguspin towards whom, at that 
 time, he cherished the most grateful sentiments, but 
 that Thoinas, for the reasons, there given, had per 
 suaded him against the step, satisfying his Father 
 with the prospect of -his visiting Dalguspin at his 
 residence later on. But John Ruffin had become 
 most unhappy about his son .his growing thinness, 
 especially. Nor could the latter avoid breaks here 
 and there in his carefully guarded exterior aspect, 
 disclosing disturbing symptoms to his Father's sus 
 picious and watchful eye. The assurances Thomas 
 gave were quieting for the moment only. His
 
 Thomas Ruffin. 249 
 
 Father's fears would spring up again and prey upon 
 him secretly. Finally, nothing must do but to visit 
 the Baiik. Something, he thought, might be learnt. 
 He would see something at least with his own eyes, 
 and know better how Thomas was getting on. 
 
 To do this, without his son's knowledge, it was 
 necessary the visits should be made after dark, and 
 the "seeing" confined to looking through the win 
 dows. The Bank's location he readily found out 
 through Sabina. It was not far off; and he had 
 made one or two of these visits prior to that here 
 recorded. The building fell very far short of expec 
 tations, and at the same time Dalguspin's stature 
 shrank anew. Of the three balls John Ruffin took 
 no notice. Upon points of special interest to wit : 
 the cause of Thomas' thinning so, and the reason for 
 those unusual broodings at unguarded moments, 
 &c. the visits of course threw no light. Still, it 
 was a joy at the least to see his dear son at the desk, 
 working such long and patient hours, and all for 
 him. He would stand and stand and gaze in through 
 the window, unconscious of anything that might be oc 
 curring around him. On this particular Wednesday 
 evening he was making the third visit, and had been 
 at the window perhaps twenty minutes, when he saw 
 Thomas leave the "cage" hat in hand and pass out 
 through a side door. Fearing discovery he turned 
 to slip away, and, as he did so, became conscious of 
 a crowd very near him, and loud excited talking a 
 circumstance that further hastened his steps.
 
 250 Thomas Ruffin. 
 
 Let it be observed that, as John Ruffin started 
 down the street Friend Peale entered the Bank from 
 up the street, for a special call upon Thomas to be 
 informed by William, the watchman, that Mr Ruffin 
 just that minute had left that he had passed out 
 through the Loan Office, to speak to the clerk there, 
 otherwise he probably would have met him at the 
 door that Mr. Ruffin had told him he would be back 
 in half hour and that he had a deliberate and 
 a decided opinion he had gone to the barber's for a 
 hair-cutting or a shave. (By the way, William must 
 stand corrected in one particular Thomas Ruffin' s 
 means were altogether too limited to allow the use 
 of any other razor than his own.) Now, the watch 
 man's weighty surmise brought it to Friend Peale' s 
 mind, that lie had omitted the usual shave that 
 morning, and he reflected, as he stroked the rugged 
 chin, that the barber's would not be an unbecoming 
 place for himself. He took a chair at the round 
 table outside the "cage," undecided as to whether 
 he should remain, or call again presently. He had 
 not met Thomas since the scene in the Park, and was 
 especially desirous of speaking to him touching that 
 interesting meeting. While debating the matter of 
 remaining or not, Sandy Johnson, who had been the 
 centre of the commotion on the street, roughly en 
 tered, wagging his head and exclaiming : 
 
 "Hut! tut! hut! tut! The Deil tak the Blue 
 Coats!" 
 
 "Heyday! What now, Alexander ?" 
 
 "Ah! Gfude morrow, yer Reverence," replied
 
 Thomas Muffin. 251 
 
 Sandy, who in the partial light (for Thomas had 
 turned the lamp down), had mistaken Friend Peale 
 for the watchman. "I'll be e'en wi' the mon, or niver 
 cut hide again." 
 
 "What's the matter \ Thee looks sour." 
 
 "And I feel as I look, as the lad said, whan he 
 stole of nights into the pantry." 
 
 "Ha ! ha ! ha ! But, my merryman, what's the 
 matter, I say ? What has aroused thee so ?" 
 
 "He wad arrist me for speaking to a beggar-mon, 
 the blackguard !" 
 
 "Strange ! Alexander. Our patrolmen have the 
 best reputation." 
 
 "The Blue Coat was his ain sel', like the brute 
 he be." 
 
 "How? how?" 
 
 "I'll tell yer Reverence : On me way hither to hae 
 a word wi' Mr. Tammas, I spied ahead me auld 
 tounsman, and, curious to ken his ain, followed juist 
 behind. To ev'ry beggar he wad gie a penny and 
 whisper a word. 'Twas always the same (for I ques 
 tioned the beggars narrowly): 'Pray for Tammie.' 
 He mad for Dalguspin's Bank and stoppit at the 
 barred window thar ower against his son's desk. 
 The street was sae bustling wi' chatty clerks and 
 workmen hurrying hame and the auld gentleman sae 
 absorbed, that I got verra' near and cud see the liftit 
 eye and the moving lip, as he gazed in upon his son. 
 Thar he stood fu' half an hoor; thin turned to gae, 
 whan he saw Mr. Tammas leave his desk."
 
 252 Thomas llufin. 
 
 "I think I'll watch for him some evening myself, 
 to have another look at my old friend." 
 
 "Ye may look oot, too, for Blue Coats." 
 
 "Blue Coats!" 
 
 "Ay ! Yer Reverence; for, as I turned to gang 
 awa', a Blue Coat roughly pat his hand upon me." 
 
 "What are ye aboot, said he!" 
 
 "An honest mon's business, said I." 
 
 "Ye spak juist noo to a thief, said he." 
 
 "He's a beggar, said I." 
 
 "He's a bully thief, said he." 
 
 "Ye're a bully yourseP, said I, enraged." 
 
 "I'll arrist ye, said he, and hae ye caged." 
 
 "Ah! Alexander, what says your poet Robbie 
 Burns ? : 'Prudent, cautious self-control is wisdom's 
 root.' The Blue Coat, when I think of it, no doubt 
 did his duty." 
 
 "To arrist me for speaking to a beggar-mon ! Why, 
 yer Reverence, to save mesel' frae prison, I hed to 
 tak the mon aside and tell him a' John Ruffin's 
 story. E'en thin he dinna scarce believe me and 
 spak most roughly. / hae nae love for Blue Coats" 
 
 "And there thee is unreasonable. No doubt the 
 beggar was a thief hard run; and what with thy 
 following up John Ruffin and his stopping at the 
 Bank and gazing through the window, truly, Alex 
 ander, thy actions looked suspicious." 
 
 ' 'A Blue Coat' s a Blue Coat. Sir. Wha shot me dog ? 
 A Blue Coat. I love him nae and wad drink to him 
 sae" (taking a glass from the table): "A Blue Coat 
 a weel paid, a weel fed, a weel clad fellow, hard to
 
 Thomas Muffin, 253 
 
 find, when most needed" (glass turned off in panto 
 mime). 
 
 "And /, Alexander, would drink to him thus" 
 (taking the glass): "Our Blue Coats the Majesty of 
 the Law brought down to a line executive point" 
 (glass turned off in pantomime). 
 
 "Aweel ! I'll waste nae mair words on the fellow. 
 I cam in juist now wi' me crusty side foremost. 
 But me ither side and me fuller side and me better 
 side was truly pitifu' wi' thochts aboot auld John 
 Ruffin. In a' me spat wi' the fellow and the runnin' 
 up of passers-by, to hear, thar stood the puir mon a 
 gazin' in on his son and hearing naething of the 
 hubbub sae near him." 
 
 "These visits must be in secret as far as Thomas 
 is concerned. I am quite sure he knows nothing of 
 'em. He tells me he has made every effort to keep 
 his Father away from the Bank, or even learning its 
 location, lest he should recognize the meaning of the 
 golden balls." 
 
 "And where be Mr. Tammas V asked Sandy look 
 ing round. "I hae na spak wi' him sin' oor Park 
 meeting." 
 
 "At the barber's, William informs me to be back 
 presently. And I am thinking I need the barber's 
 hand, too" stroking his chin. "Will thee wait till 
 I return?" 
 
 "Na, na. I'll juist speak the while wi' a crony 
 ower the way." 
 
 Scarcely had they left, when Thomas came in, and 
 while the watchman was speaking to him of his vis-
 
 254 Thomas Muffin. 
 
 itors, a stranger, with valise in hand, who had been 
 observing Thomas closely through the window, 
 briskly entered. 
 
 "Mr. Dalguspin, Jr., I presume," said the strang 
 er, saluting. 
 
 "No, Sir. My name is Ruffin. I'm employed in 
 the Bank." 
 
 "The very identical person I should see," remark 
 ed the stranger, professionally and by species a Pen 
 and Ink Agent genus, Book Agent who proceeded 
 to exhibit his wares and to recommend them with 
 all the volubility, assurance, and persistency of 
 his class. "My name is Elba Kramer. Backwards, 
 you observe, it spells remarkable, and I live up to 
 my name; for I'm offering some really remarkable 
 wares exactly apropos of a Bank Clerk. You see, 
 Sir, I'm a merchant on foot, and offer wares so ex 
 cellent, that, for dear humanity's sake, I carry them 
 to the. public, waiting not for the public to come to 
 me." 
 
 While rattling this off Kramer busies himself 
 opening his valise and pack. 
 
 "I'm a Pen and Ink Merchant, Sir," he continued 
 "a responsible post, Sir; since the Pen, as known 
 of all men, is mightier than the sword, and the Ink 
 Pot that 'sable well,' as the poet hath it, is the 
 'fount of fame or infamy.' ' : 
 
 If the Agent's volubility, so smooth and rapid, 
 drew a smile from Thomas, the latter was further 
 taken with what may be called his easy and gentle 
 manly impudence.
 
 Tliomas Ruffin. 255 
 
 "Here are samples of my stock, Sir, varied arid 
 large," he went on, at the same time spreading upon 
 the table a number of pens. The merits of each va 
 riety, manually exhibiting them one by one, he then 
 descanted upon in the following Hudibrastic lines 
 given with all the graces of elocution, to the great 
 amusement of Thomas : 
 
 Pens of all shapes, shades, and sizes 
 
 At the Pairs have swept the prizes' 
 
 Pens of every sort of metal 
 
 Gold, silver, bismuth, steel, el. al. 
 
 Pens of high and low degree 
 
 Pens with two points. Pens with three 
 
 Bcink Pens Pens to mark up clothing 
 
 Pens Commercial Pens Engrossing. 
 
 Here are stub Pens, coarse and fine, Sir 
 
 Beat creation in their line, Sir. 
 
 Here're Pens Oblique yet Pens that we 
 
 'Gainst crooked writing guarantee. 
 
 These Falcon Pens ain't much 011 biting, 
 
 But, you bet, are death on writing. 
 
 This, the Pen styled Caligraphic. 
 
 This, par excellans, Elastic. 
 
 This barrel Pen I call a knave 
 
 It carries staff instead of stave. 
 
 Here's the celebrated 'IT Pen. 
 
 Here's the lady's billet doux Pen. 
 
 Here are Pens with nibs of rubies 
 
 Rarely bought but by boobies. 
 
 My Pens from morn to eve I cry up 
 
 I cry my Pens, and never dry up 
 
 I cry good Pens, best of their kind 
 
 If any stick-frogs you should find 
 
 If not the Pens of Pens, why, then, 
 
 You may put me in the Pen, 
 
 With Penny loaf for daily dinner, 
 
 A Penetrated, Pe'/iitential sinner !
 
 256 Thomas Ruffin. 
 
 A hearty laugh from Thomas greeted the eloquent 
 peroration, and the Agent then went on: 
 
 "But, my dear Sir, dropping the strains where 
 with, on special occasions, I advertise my merchan 
 dise, allow me to bring to your attention one bright 
 particular article. A real factor, Sir, in nineteenth 
 century progress, is the English Steel Pen ; and 
 this" exhibiting; the pen "is the best of them all, 
 the unapproached, the unapproachable Compound 
 Elastic,. Rolled in Sheffield, the steel was shaped, 
 cut, hardened, tempered, ground, and slit in Bir 
 mingham, by that prince of makers whose initials 
 you see stamped upon the shank, J. G. 
 
 "This pen, Sir, is worthy of a study. Its polish 
 ed platina points hold the ink well and glide easily 
 over the paper. Observe, too, this slight hollow 
 just above the nibs, perceptible to a nice touch, the 
 tactus eruditus (I've looked a little into Latin, Sir). 
 It enhances the gradual flow of the sable fluid a 
 great point, Sir, I can positively assure you." 
 Thomas still greatly amused. 
 
 "Above all, you will please notice the manifold 
 devices to promote elasticity. This puncture or 
 aperture in which the central slit terminates, is loca 
 ted, you perceive, below the shoulder, thereby throw 
 ing the centre of elasticity between the shoulder and 
 the nibs another great point, Sir. In addition to 
 the central slit, you see liere two lateral, internal, 
 longitudinal slits, with external cross crescent slits 
 meeting them from the slopes. They all respond 
 harmoniously to the gentlest finger pressure, ensur-
 
 Thomas Ruffin. 257 
 
 ing an elasticity far superior to any product of the 
 gray goose wing." -Thomas continues to be greatly 
 amused. 
 
 "The elasticity of these Pens is a marvel, Sir. A 
 gentlemen recently told me he was testing the spring 
 of the nibs on his thumb nail. Something diverted 
 attention a moment. When he looked for the Pen 
 again, lo ! it was gone whether into the heavens 
 above, or the earth beneath, God only knows. In 
 advertently he had exerted a little too much pres 
 sure, and the Pen, rebounding, whizzed off, clear 
 out of sight and search. It's a positive fact, Sir." 
 -Thomas all in smiles. 
 
 "And I can tell you another interesting fact. The 
 use of these Pens is distinctly beneficial to stiffened 
 joints. There" is such a thing, Sir, as sympathetic 
 movement, as well as sympathetic suffering, and in 
 using these Pens the peculiar sense of elastic play 
 under digital pressure, coaxes on, throughout the 
 organism a corresponding movement" (twisting 
 about his body in illustration), "that gradually 
 supples up stiffened joints in a manner mirabile 
 dictu ! An old rheumatic gentleman tells me he 
 has obtained in this way singular relief, and that 
 twenty-five cents' worth of these Pens will guaran- 
 tee more solid satisfaction than any doctor's bill a 
 yard long. It's sympathy, Sir, sympathy as the 
 young man said, when he kissed the young lady, on 
 seeing the old folks a kissin' each other." 
 
 Here Thomas' smiles broke into a laugh, and 
 Kramer deemed the moment opportune to solicit a 
 purchase.
 
 258 Thomas Ruffin. 
 
 "Let me sell you this box, Sir? Contains one 
 dozen. Costs twenty-five cents. Every Pen worth 
 the money." 
 
 "No," replied Thomas. "I am compelled to de 
 cline." 
 
 "Allow me, then, the liberty to present you with 
 a Pen. Use it and you'll buy, when I call upon you 
 next week. A stick, too, goes with it a stick, Sir, 
 worthy of the Pen. Light" weighing stick on fin 
 ger "though overlong, measuring from butt to 
 point 7J inches, and 7 back again, making in all 15 
 inches. None of your Florida cedar, the common 
 stick stuff. This cedar, Sir, grew on the heights of 
 Lebanon a stick, Sir, such as were used by those 
 ancient ones out of Zebulon who 'handled the pen of 
 the writer,' and, permit me to add, becomes the hand 
 of so worthy a looking young man as yourself." 
 
 "I thank you," said Thomas, taking the pen and 
 staff with a highly amused countenance. 
 
 "Now let me show you, Sir, specimens of my Ink." 
 
 Kramer dives into his pocket feels for something 
 then stops and looks surprised. 
 
 "By the Styx ! I'm in a fix! I've lost or mislaid 
 the key to the Ink compartment. Will you please 
 lend me your bunch, Mr. Ruffin \ I may find a key 
 to suit." 
 
 "Certainly," Thomas replied, handing his bunch 
 of keys. 
 
 "By the way, Mr. Ruffin, here are some remark 
 able blotters," observed Kramer, as he drew from 
 the valise several highly ornamented blotters, and, 
 having felt them over rapidly, put two aside.
 
 Thomas Ruffin. 259 
 
 "They don't blot my reputation, Sir. Into their 
 substance is incorporated a chemical agent that gives 
 them absorbent qualities altogether unique and re 
 markable so remarkable, that, in using them, a 
 caution becomes necessary. That is to say : A single 
 slight stroke over the sheet" making the motion 
 "suffices. Be on guard, Sir. No more than this, no 
 continued pressure, or so much moisture will be ab 
 sorbed from the fingers, as to dampen the paper 
 through and run the ink. Upon my word, Sir, a 
 gentleman who had been using these blotters with 
 out knowledge, found his finger ends becoming 
 shrunken and shrivelled. He called in a doctor who 
 gave a diagnosis of 'Idiopathic Terminal Atrophy, 
 superinduced by some neurotic lesion of Central or 
 Peripheral origin.' He treated the case and ran up 
 a bill as long as the name. But the poor fellow, like 
 the woman of Holy Writ who sought the M. D.. 
 rather grew worse Fortunately, 1 came along, and 
 put a termination to the Terminal Atrophy, as well 
 as the interminable bill, by showing him how to 
 use the blotters." Smiles from Thomas are again in 
 order. 
 
 "Why, my dear Sir, so soft are they and so thick, 
 that I can give you an exact impression of this key. 
 Let me see." 
 
 He selects a key from the bunch and presses it in 
 various ways on one of the blotters he had put aside. 
 Then, holding it up, remarks : 
 
 "That's not so good. Let me try it on this." 
 
 He now x^resse-s the key on the other blotter put 
 aside, and, scrutinizing it, remarks :
 
 260 Thomas Ruffin. 
 
 "Ati! this is better a perfect impression, Sir" 
 showing it to Thomas. 
 
 "I find no key to suit" trying the bunch on the 
 ink compartment, and then returning it to Thomas. 
 "However, I shall be pleased to leave with you to 
 morrow a bottle of my peerless 'Stygian Writing 
 Fluid.' 
 
 "Glad to have met you, Sir" as he speaks re 
 placing into the valise his things, and with them the 
 blotter on which he had last impressed the key 
 "hope we may meet again, and thank you very 
 kindly for your polite attention." 
 
 It was Thomas Ruffin's first experience with a high 
 class peripatetic vendor, and, as Kramer turned to 
 leave, his eye followed him with a sentiment of won 
 der, that one of such address and humor should not 
 be above Pen and Ink Peddling. 
 
 The "crony ower the way" being out, in a few mo 
 ments Sandy Johnson was back, to await at the Bank 
 Thomas Rufiin's return. Seeing through the window 
 that Thomas had company, he remained outside. 
 Naturally enough he was observant of the stranger; 
 and directly had occasion to become an aroused spec 
 tator and watched him closely. The specific thing 
 he was doing, he was unable to discover. But evi 
 dently he must be doing something or explaining 
 something of more than ordinary interest, he thought, 
 so energetic was his manner and so attentive and 
 amused did Thomas seem to be; and when he saw he 
 was about to leave, Sandy stepped to the door-way 
 and fixed upon him his keen Scotch eyes as he
 
 Thomas Ruffin. 261 
 
 passed. Kramer noticed the scrutiny and made an 
 evident effort to avoid it. Sandy thought this sus 
 picious and followed the man, who, seeing he was 
 shadowed, mended his pace, and in the darkness 
 soon became lost to Sandy, the condition of whose 
 ulcered right leg was still an impediment to unusual 
 exertion. Near the Bank, on his return, he came up 
 with Friend Peale, and they entered together. Sal 
 utations over, Friend Peale' s attention happened at 
 the moment to be caught by the color of the blotters 
 on ths table so trivial is the circumstance that oft- 
 times leads up to the gravest results and he re 
 marked casually : 
 
 "Why, Thomas, thee has fancy blotters !" 
 
 "A peddler who has just gone, left 'em for trial, 
 as being of superior quality." 
 
 "Hey! hey! And what does this mean?" ob 
 served Friend Peale, and in a tone of surprise; for, 
 in running his fingers over the blotters, he noticed 
 that one was damp, and he had taken it up and was 
 examining it. "The blotter is damp! Strange it 
 should be damp, Thomas ! And what do I see on 
 it?" he added, as he scrutinized the blotter more 
 closely. "Bless my eyes ! if it isn't the impression 
 of a key !" he exclaimed with voice and look that 
 startled his hearers; for Friend Peale remembered 
 having recently seen a newspaper account of an at 
 tempted bank robbery by means of a key made from 
 impressions on a dampened blotter. 
 
 "Yes so it is, Sir. And what of that \ The ped 
 dler said he had lost or mislaid the key to a com-
 
 262 Thomas Huffin. 
 
 partment in his valise, and asked for my bunch, 
 hoping to find one to fit; and 
 
 "And thee lent him thy keys?" asked Friend 
 Peale, energetically breaking in. 
 
 "Yes, I did and it was neighborly, not serious, I 
 hope," replied Thomas, wondering at Friend Peale' s 
 manner. ' 'And he had these blotters on the table, and 
 made an impression of a key, to show their quality." 
 
 ' 'What key is this, Thomas, whose impression I see?' ' 
 
 "The key to the rear door of the Bank. But why, 
 Friend Peale, are you so serious ?" 
 
 "Did he carry off an impression?" Friend Peale 
 asked under evfdent excitement, and not heeding 
 Thomas' question. 
 
 "I do not know, Sir. He did, if there be not two. 
 He made two. But what can be the matter ?" 
 
 "There's but one impression here, Thomas," said 
 the Quaker, still unheeding the question addressed 
 to him, and eagerly examining the blotters. 
 
 "Then the peddler has the other." 
 
 "Then he's a Burglar, Thomas Ruffin, with de 
 signs on the Bank!" exclaimed Friend Peale. 
 
 "A Burglar !" cried out the astounded Thomas. 
 
 "Yea, I tell thee he's a Burglar ! The moistened 
 and prepared blotter the selection of the key the 
 carrying off an impression make a clear case. The 
 papers give an account of a recent attempt of this 
 kind. It's the way of these villians a trick to get 
 a model. Here's the entire key in all its parts 
 point, pin, collar, bit, ward, rabbit, shaft, and bow ! 
 The entire key !"
 
 Thomas Ruffin. 263 
 
 "What am I to do ?" asked Thomas with profound 
 concern upon his countenance. 
 
 "There's but one thing thee can do. Jnform Dal- 
 guspin at once, that he may take measures to thwart 
 the attempt. And I fear, my son, he'll make a point 
 against thee for allowing thyself to be taken in. If 
 thee could identify the man" Friend Peale observ 
 ed, after a momentary pause of reflection "the affair 
 might make a turn in thy favor. But that would be 
 difficult" reflecting again "seeing he was in dis 
 guise, undoubtedly. Is there aught about this ped 
 dler" (he added) "in those parts undisguisable as 
 eyes, or mouth, or teeth by which thee would know 
 him?" 
 
 Thomas paused upon the reply : 
 
 "I can't say there is." 
 
 "But I c<m," spoke up Sandy, who had been a 
 deeply interested listener; and all eyes were turned 
 upon the Scotchman. 
 
 "I passed the chap" he went on "at the door, 
 and because he seemed to shun me ee, I spied him 
 the closer. Sbmethin' anent the mon I hed seen 
 afore, and I hae been puzzlin' me noddle to place 
 him. It's a' clear noo. I hae been too aft at Dal- 
 guspin's to boot him, na to ken his footman, Robbie 
 Smail, through a' his disguises." 
 
 "Art sure, Alexander?" eagerly asked Friend Peale. 
 
 "Sure's Land's eend is na John O' Groats. His 
 cast and play o' countenance I hae watchit too aft 
 to be deceived. I wad swear to the ideentity." 
 
 "And I can bring corroborating evidence," chimed
 
 264 Thomas Muffin. 
 
 in the Quaker exultingly; "for all tliee says does 
 well agree with what Dalguspin has told me, that his 
 footman proves a Wild West dare-devil, in respect 
 to whom he has entertained most serious fears. And 
 what's another weighty circumstance, that the fel 
 low intends this Friday next to leave for England 
 an information, that, with most evident satisfaction, 
 as relieved from fears, Dalguspin gave me even yes 
 terday. Yea ! yea ! I see it all. This is Wednesday 
 eve. To-morrow the key's to be made. To-morrow 
 night the robbery. Next day the robber is to run. 
 That's his scheme." 
 
 "But we can pat a spoke in his wheel and beat him 
 a' round and clear through," surmised Sandy. 
 
 "Yea, we can and will, and all by ourselves. 
 Through Thursday's night we'll watch the Baritf 's 
 rear door, with officer of the law, and nab the fel 
 low in the very act. That's our scheme. Then, be 
 fore Dalguspin we'll honor thee, my son" with a 
 rallying pat on Thomas' back "as worthy of most 
 praise in the affair, and thee will play winning cards 
 for his favor." 
 
 "Thar's a 'pull' upon a 'puller,' by the soul of 
 St. Crispin," jubilantly observed Sandy. 
 
 "Yea, yea thee's in luck, Thomas, after all. If 
 evil there must be, good it is for evil to yield ad 
 vantages to honest men. And now for the office of 
 the Magistrate, to swear out a warrant against the 
 footman this night, this hour, this very minute; 
 for scarce could thee do so to-morrow without risk 
 of revealing too early our scheme to Dalguspin."
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 BLACK ISAAC'S VISITOR. 
 
 "What a fine, delightful, rainy day, Sir !" 
 
 The reader is informed that this sentiment did not 
 proceed from the gum-shoe man, but from Miss Kitty 
 a sentiment expressive of a banter to John Ruffin, 
 as well as the actual impression of The Home's 
 hearty Housekeeper. 
 
 Yes let it rain in the interests of husbandry and 
 trade; for isn't the rain-fall lessening the level of 
 the lakes, lowering the volume of the rivers, shrink 
 ing and drouths becoming, more and more, a seri 
 ous national concern ? 
 
 Yes let it rain and lay the dust, the city man 
 should say with an emphasis; for is not this dirty 
 dust, made so rapidly, and whirled along the draught- 
 creating streets so readily, and into one's eyes so 
 annoyingly, a most pronounced nuisance ? Then 
 look at the scientific side. This horrid dust, with a 
 percentage of output, originally, from diseased 
 lungs and noses and other foul sources, that 
 has become dessicated, then triturated beneath 
 wheels and the heels of men and beasts in-
 
 266 Thomas Ruffin. 
 
 numerable, may involve in its breathing bar 
 ring the aesthetics of the thing the deadly 
 bacillus. And even though the bacillus that would 
 kill us might be done up right by the guardian 
 leucocyte, the lifting of this pulverised and irritat 
 ing filth and settling thereof upon the delicate 
 schneiderian membrane, originates, perhaps, 60 per 
 cent, of the colds, as the ordinary cold lies at the 
 root of, perhaps, 60 per cent, of the one hundred 
 strictly differentiated diseases to which human flesh 
 is heir. Let it rain, therefore, and lay the dust, the 
 dust, the dust. 
 
 It is scarcely probable, however, that Miss Kitty 
 took into her calculation the bacteriological consid 
 eration. No doubt but that she was one of those 
 persons not uncommonly met with, whose nervous 
 system is so poised as to experience a depression at 
 the approach of a storm, with a rebound when the 
 storm breaks the rebound not a negative quality 
 merely, but the outcome of certain atmospheric con 
 ditions of an exhilarating character accompanying 
 falling weather. At all events, to cut the matter 
 short, the simple fact was, that Miss Kitty felt bet 
 ter on rainy days, though her governmental cares 
 and "quandaries" were increased from the inmates' 
 being kept within doors, and the muddy shoes of 
 those who must go out would defile her well scrubbed 
 floors. Hence her sentiment and rally to John Ruffin 
 this early Thursday morning : 
 
 "What a tine, delightful rainy day, Sir !" 
 
 It was the day following the events related in the
 
 Thomas Ruffin. 267 
 
 last chapter. Miss Kitty affirmed her weather view, 
 seeing that John Ruffin, the evening before, had ex 
 pressed the hope the day would be open, as he wish 
 ed to make a visit, and had asked Miss Kitty's 
 opinion touching the prospects. She allowed her 
 bones and joints to return the answer one far more 
 reliable than the prophets of the street-corner or 
 goods-box could give, and which, within limits, riv 
 alled in accuracy the weather-bureau forecasts of 
 these more scientific latter days. With a storm 
 brewing, Miss Kitty's answer was unfavorable, and 
 the state of the weather next morning justified her 
 prediction. However, she now expressed the hope 
 that the clouds might break away by the afternoon, 
 in time for the visit. 
 
 To John Ruffin it was a notable day, this particu 
 lar Thursday. It was the natal day of his first born, 
 the son he had lost, and on whom his early hopes 
 had been set. Among his treasure remnants he 
 had two beautiful miniatures of his sons, oval in 
 form and richly mounted in solid gold; and it had 
 been his custom, ever since this elder son had been 
 given up for lost, to take his miniature from its 
 casket, in memoriam, once every year, on his birth 
 day. With the rolling on of time the commemora 
 tion grew in interest, and finally took the form of a 
 somewhat solemn ceremonial. At the hour when his 
 son first saw the light, John Ruffin would enter his 
 room (which had been duly prepared), bring forth 
 the miniature from its casket and covering, and com 
 mune with the departed. Nor did he forget the
 
 268 Thomas Ruffin. 
 
 commemoration, though it could not be done so for 
 mally, in these latter days of affliction. The de 
 voted hour was between 7 and 8 in the evening, and 
 the thoughts connected therewith belong rather to 
 the chapter following, which opens at the 7th hour. 
 
 Another consideration, for the moment making 
 this day special, was John Ruffin's resolution to see 
 Dalguspin touching Thomas. For days and weeks 
 the thought had been pressing. Already had he set 
 apart this day for the visit, and when the morning 
 came he was confirmed in the resolution by Thomas' 
 failure to bid him good-night the evening before (an 
 unusual occurrence), or to send an explaining word. 
 It was all due, he was persuaded, to being so over 
 worked, and he would give the Banker his mind. 
 
 The fact was that Thomas had called. But it was 
 very late. The candle at the window had burned 
 out, his Father evidently was asleep, and he 
 would not disturb him. There had been difficulty 
 in securing the services of a magistrate, to issue the 
 warrant against Robert. The first one sought was 
 at the theatre. The second, at a feast. The third, 
 indeed, at home but there were preliminaries; and 
 by the time the paper had been executed, and Friend 
 Peale and Sandy and Thomas had fully talked over 
 at the Bank the scheme of capture and arranged de 
 tails, the lateness of the hour prevented John Ruffin's 
 getting the usual good-night. 
 
 Thomas Ruffin's appearance and manner at this 
 time really were calculated to breed concern in one 
 less anxious for his welfare than his Father. The
 
 Thomas Ruffin. 269 
 
 latter was in error touching the main cause. It was 
 not now, or not so much, overwork. Since the in 
 ception of the scheme of robbery, with involvement 
 of young Ruffin, Dalguspin had turned artfully to 
 wards his clerk. It was a feature of his malignant 
 character to approach the victim with a velvet tread. 
 The half dollar was added to the weekly wage, as 
 has been stated. Nor was Thomas kept now quite 
 so long at the desk, the Banker himself sharing what 
 had been his undivided work. And Black Isaac's 
 demeanor, too, was less churlish nay, even kindly. 
 The raised spirits growing out of the prospect of de 
 liverance through the robbery, naturally affected his 
 general behavior; and as to Thomas Ruffin, in par 
 ticular, he realised it was the proper thing to allay, 
 or try to allay, the suspicion with which his keen 
 eye saw he was regarded by him. He was not effus 
 ive, as at the first. That would have defeated his ob 
 ject very probably, he felt; for he had learned to 
 recognize a greater power of discernment in his clerk, 
 than in the beginning he had given him credit for. 
 But there was a general let up, and Black Isaac had 
 reason to be satisfied with the effect of the manoeuvre. 
 Thomas protested to his Father that the situation at 
 the Bank had improved; but the latter would not 
 listen to it, in view of what was before his very eyes, 
 that Thomas daily was falling back; and when 
 Thomas drew attention to his getting to The 
 Home earlier, John Ruffin felt that his son strained 
 and rushed through the days, just to make it seem 
 to him he was less burdened.
 
 270 Thomas 
 
 That Thomas Ruffin was now unhappy and droop 
 ing, was evident, and for the cause we need not go far. 
 There is a sin (it has been observed), as common as it is 
 secretive the first to be seen in our fellows, the last 
 to discover in ourselves whose peculiar deformity 
 lies in its banquetting upon the misfortunes of 
 others, fattening on their follies and falls a sin, 
 that condemns one to be soured in his associates, 
 unless they are inferior, without gifts or attractions 
 and which, many a time and. oft, involves the 
 blackest little lies, as when, under the pressure of 
 our social customs, we are constrained to congratu 
 late another on some godsend, whose happening 
 really grates upon us; or commiserate him for some 
 misfortune, with which secretly we are very well 
 pleased the odious sin of Envy ! It has its grada 
 tions, in its extremes involving hate, rancor, revenge. 
 
 Now, if Thomas Ruffin morally was much above 
 the average young man, still he was flesh and blood, 
 he was human; and when, a certain evening, ne 
 might have been seen sitting communing in his gar 
 ret room, eyes half closed, upper eylids drawn down 
 over the eyeballs, eyebrows knitted, expression deep 
 and intense, the physiognomist would have read in 
 that countenance not only a sentiment of envy, but 
 that the object of envy was mentally there before him. 
 Undoubtedly, that object was the florist. We will 
 not say he really hated the florist. But we run little 
 risk touching violation of the truth in declaring that 
 his sentiments towards him were not of the pleasing 
 variety. Every word Sister Jessica had either spoken
 
 Thomas Ruffin. 271 
 
 or written respecting the florist, lie had weighed most 
 carefully. This florist was "our friend" ours, 
 Amy's, as well as the Sister's, and Amy's especially, 
 he must be, of course, he thought. Then, he fur 
 nished gratuitously the lovely flowers, because he 
 was "interested" in their purposes. Why interested \ 
 He had never seen his Father. If he knew aught 
 concerning him, it could have been only through 
 Amy. And must not any interest he might have in 
 the object these flowers were meant to serve, spring 
 from a personal interest in Amy ? Then he had a 
 decidedly disagreeable sense of the Sister's having 
 spoken of the florist as a youny man. And further, 
 since the interview with Sister Jessica, he had been 
 diligent in inquiries respecting the general complex 
 ion of florists, and disabused of an impression. He 
 had discovered that the florist, in large cities, may 
 be a representative of wealth, character, and posi 
 tion; and if this particular florist was not a man of 
 means at least, how could he afford, he considered, 
 to give away so many rare and costly blooms, even 
 in the line of roses alone ? 
 
 Out of all this grew a picture, from which Thomas 
 Ruffin was unable, as though dominated by a spell, 
 to withdraw his gaze, yet oppressing him with heavy, 
 wearing thoughts. On this certain evening, when 
 we have attempted a photograph, a Moss Rose was 
 in his button-hole. It caught his eye. He looked 
 down upon it a moment dallied with it a moment- 
 then drew it forth, and tossed it upon the table. 
 Had it become too faded, to be worn 3 Or did it now 
 have other associations \
 
 272 Thomas Muffin. 
 
 To preserve consistency with that surrender of a 
 hope he had made so magnanimously, he deceived 
 himself in the reflection, that all this heart-ache was 
 what a relative naturally should feel. His anxieties 
 were all on account of his Cousin. The florist might 
 not be a man of character, or such a character as was 
 worthy of Amy, and she might be throwing herself 
 away. And Thomas would worry and torment him 
 self almost to death till, in a moment of clearer 
 reason, the vision would perish, aud the florist, the 
 mist about him dissolving, would stand out simply 
 a friend with a kindly heart. 
 
 But visions after this kind would be reforming 
 and harassing him constantly. Unhappy days they 
 were. He was sore distressed and could not see the 
 end, and the effect was palpably visible. The rapid 
 fluctuations in his mind, now despairing, now hoping 
 (for it was all a delusion, his giving up Amy) so 
 perplexed and tossed about continually in contempla 
 ting the mystery and the possibilities of her seclusion 
 the total absence of calm, settled thought and, 
 not least, being cut off, by the pledge he had given, 
 from counsellor and comforter all this brought 
 down upon him, indeed, a heavy hand. If naturally 
 frail in appearance, the axe and maul of early days 
 had given him a fairly sturdy frame. But the limit 
 of endurance had been passed. He was failing and 
 he felt it. His appetite was gone. The restored half 
 dollar to the weekly wage, with the liberal pay 
 Sister Jessica had given his Father recently for some 
 small jobs, enabled him to provide for himself some-
 
 Thomas Ruffin. 273 
 
 what better. Still, he could not eat, so to speak- 
 neither could he sleep. His work -languished now 
 a, miserable drudgery. Of diminished volume, it 
 yet used him up. He bought an Elixir which he saw 
 advertised as covering his case but without avail. 
 In his garret room he was often in tears. Before his 
 Father it was impossible to assume his usual degree 
 of cheerfulness. Scarce could he refrain, time and 
 again, from breaking down and disclosing all, at the 
 sight of his Father's distress. True, within the past 
 twenty-four hours a change had occurred. The dis 
 covery of the scheme to rob the Bank, with the lead 
 ing part he bore therein, was sufficient of itself to 
 stimulate him to a high degree. Then, as outcomes, 
 he would have a "pull" upon Dalguspin. His good 
 will he would firmly secure. The apprehensions of 
 foul play that had been so disturbing, would all be re 
 moved. His pay would be increased very probably. 
 And certainly, his relations with the Banker would 
 be smoother at the least to the end of the term. All 
 this made a current of fresh quickening thought, 
 and so Thomas was roused up, and felt a great deal 
 better, and looked a great deal brighter. But his 
 Father had not seen him since this change. As for 
 him, he was in a tumult of fears for his son 
 felt it was all attributable to over- work and had 
 settled on this day to see the Banker. 
 
 From remarks dropped by Thomas, John Ruffin 
 had learnt the street and number of Black Isaac's 
 residence, as welt as the time when he would be 
 most likely at home. He had learnt, in addition,
 
 274 Thomas Ruffin. 
 
 there was a 'Bus line (a walk would have been too 
 much for him) but a square off, that ran on this street; 
 and he had put by pennies enough to pay fare for 
 himself and Sabina, whom he would have to accom 
 pany him. 
 
 Soon after midday the rain ceased. By 4 o'clock 
 the clouds had broken fairly, and John Ruffin, with 
 Sabina, started forth, ostensibly for a walk. He 
 now informed the servant-woman of his purpose, 
 and she, instructed to respect his wishes scrupu 
 lously, made no objection though never had she 
 gone out with him near so far. 
 
 The 'Bus soon filled with a typical lot. John Ruffin 
 happened to be seated not at all to his liking; for a 
 frousy old German woman, just from the green-gro 
 cer's, had squeezed in beside him, her basket heavily 
 topped with onions, now directly under John Ruffin's 
 nose and towards which ancient and wholesome tuber 
 he cherished a repugnance as marked as that of John 
 Randolph for the wild varieties and their sturdy fe 
 cundity whereof, it is said, he once uttered the 
 absolutely exhaustive malediction, that they should 
 be cut up by the roots, burned, and exposed to hard 
 frost. 
 
 There was pressure, also, on Sabina' s side, from a 
 very fat man, who, either to compress and ostensi 
 bly diminish his avoirdupois, or to support it, was 
 so strapped up in small tights and close-fitting 
 clothes generally, that an unusual amount of blood 
 and tissue, even for him, had been pressed up into 
 his neck and face. He seemed, too, to be as uncom-
 
 Thomas Ruffin. 275 
 
 fortably located as John Ruffin. The cause appar 
 ently was in Sabina whether due to the negro (as 
 such), or to her squint, or something else about her, 
 we are unable to inform the reader. More than 
 once he looked round at Sabina in an annoyed sort 
 of way; and Sabina, more than once, cut an eye back 
 at him, as if agog to bestow a guffaw upon his very 
 stuffy, ill-at-ease aspect. 
 
 Having had occasion to notice two of the occu 
 pants, we cannot be so impolite as not to glance, 
 at least, at the others. Just over against John 
 Ruffin was a fashionably dressed young lady at 
 tended by two lights of swelldom, one on each side, 
 dudes and dudine she sounding her vowels in the 
 broad style heard in the drawing-room of the 400, 
 and they looking sweet upon her with eyes giving no 
 promise of any message to men. Across from the 
 fat man was a vulgar city woman, of the Brown 
 Jones and Robinson set, pointing out to her country 
 cousin the mansions of distinguished and wealthy 
 citizens, the public buildings, the monuments, and 
 other objects of interest, in voice and manner glib 
 and vain, as if she held a joint ownership in all she 
 described. At the upper end of the 'Bus sat side 
 by side a country-man and a city-man, with phy 
 siques characteristic of their respective localities 
 the former a strapping, brown-skinned, hearty look 
 ing fellow the latter showing short sight, narrow 
 chest, weedy legs, and flat feet. And opposite these 
 a veritable wooden girl, with small head, long face, 
 fleshy saddle nose, far apart eyes, and a little mouth
 
 276 Thomas Ruffin. 
 
 with lips ajar. She sat at the extremity of the seat, 
 in the angle formed by the side and front of the 'Bus, 
 and so still and expressionless, that, but for the 
 wink, she might have been taken for a dummy, be 
 longing to a passenger. 
 
 The 'Bus at length reached the street number of 
 destination, the driver was signalled, and John Ruffin 
 and Sabina alighted. The latter was to remain at 
 the street-corner until John Ruffin came out. 
 
 A maid-servant answered the bell. Robert, it ap 
 pears, was absent. Probably he was at the rendez 
 vous the dim little room on a back street near the 
 Bank (the "cracksman" had rented it for the occa 
 sion), where the disguises were kept and the confer 
 ences conducted. Or, maybe, he was off meditating 
 the critical part he was about to play. Already had 
 he received from the "cracksman" the roll of bills 
 which by 8 p. m. he was to endeavor to secrete be 
 tween the mattresses of John Ruffin' s bed, and on 
 the success of which attempt the consummation of 
 the scheme that night wholly depended. It was a 
 much more difficult job than that connected with the 
 key. Here he had made and spread a net before 
 hand, and Thomas Ruffin walked right into it. There 
 was nothing prearranged touching the present job. 
 He had been instructed that John Ruffin was deaf, 
 and "off" somewhat. But how far "off?" In the 
 course of his extended experiences he had discover 
 ed these "off" characters are sometimes very suspi 
 cious, and even sharp. He had settled upon "Grim," 
 as the name to bear in his disguise representing a
 
 Thomas Ruffin. 277 
 
 workman and bringing a chair to be bottomed. 
 For the rest he trusted to mother wit and the chap 
 ter of accidents. Noals by this time felt confident 
 of his man's trustworthiness; but, to be doubly sure, 
 and to gratify Dalguspin, besides, he had given him 
 this second job, instead of undertaking it himself. 
 The first had been conducted so cleverly and with 
 such complete success, that he entertained no doubt 
 whatever, that Bob would bamboozle John Ruffin 
 and clear the way for their scheme to-night, and 
 hence had an apx^ointment to meet Dalguspin at this 
 very hour for finally talking over the whole matter 
 and completing some minor details. 
 
 John Ruffin was received by the maid-servant. 
 Her announcement of "a strange old man," instead 
 of Noals, who was expected eagerly, was a dual an 
 noyance to Black Isaac. But the visitor was in the 
 drawing-room, and all Black Isaac could do (as he 
 resolved to do), was to get rid of him as speedily as 
 possible. 
 
 "Who are you, Sir?" he demanded in a tone of 
 irritation and insolence, as he entered the room and 
 saw before him a strange old man, indeed, yet evi 
 dently with gentlemanly indications. 
 
 "Tammie's Father," quietly replied John Ruffin, 
 apparently not at all disconcerted by Black Isaac's 
 blustering manner. 
 
 "And who's Tammie, pray?" 
 
 "Don't you know, Tammie?" 
 
 "Tell me what you want quick, or get out of 
 here."
 
 278 Thomas Ruffin. 
 
 "Why, Tammie's your clerk." said John Ruffin, 
 completely at ease. 
 
 Black Isaac regarded his visitor a moment. Never 
 before had he laid eyes on John Ruffin. The visitor 
 was something more than he had expected to find. 
 Certain relations existed. Perhaps his manner was 
 a trifle less rude still, he spoke roughly : 
 
 "Well, what's wanting? hurry up." 
 
 "Work's killing Tammie." 
 
 "And so you think I'm a brute," observed Black 
 Isaac, resuming all his swagger. 
 
 "I'm thinking Tammie may have to leave," was 
 the self-composed rejoinder, though, had Black Isaac 
 looked more narrowly, he might have seen a light 
 beginning to kindle in John Ruffin' s eyes. 
 
 "The fellow leave me ! Teaching him the busi 
 ness, too ! Pish! Thankless puppy !" 
 
 The last expression having been uttered in & low 
 ered tone of scorn, John Ruffin' s dull ears did not 
 catch it, or unquestionably there would have been a 
 scene. He was a type of the Southern gentleman 
 under the old regime generous, hospitable, courtly, 
 high-strung men, and too proud not to be brave. 
 Withal, John Ruffin personally was no wise lacking 
 in native manliness. If but a wreck of his former 
 self, the old spirit was not dead. Where Thomas 
 was involved, he was ready to dare Beelzebub him 
 self; and in his state of irritation against the Banker 
 undoubtedly would have resented then and there 
 his contemptuous remark, had he heard it. Though 
 he failed to catch the insult, it happened that just
 
 Thomas Ruffin. 279 
 
 as Black Isaac finished speaking an insect of some 
 kind, as John Ruffin supposed, pitched on his right 
 cheek and bit. It may have been a neuralgic shoot. 
 At all events, there was a sharp sudden pain, and 
 the old gentleman, with a jerk, raised his right hand, 
 which carried a small light cane, to rub the part 
 affected. As he did so, the cane, borne aloft, shook 
 ominously near Black Isaac's head, who, as cowardly 
 as he was cruel, and supposing his visitor was re 
 senting "puppy," dodged and sprang away. 
 
 "Something stung my face, and I raised my hand 
 to rub it," observed John Ruffin. "Don't be afraid" 
 patronizingly taken, though not so meant. 
 
 "Afraid !" went off the Banker, chagrined at the 
 demonstration he had made, and advancing as he 
 spoke. "Afraid of you, you old simpleton !" 
 
 The cane-hand and cane suddenly went up again, 
 and Black Isaac again dodged back from the 
 blows, as John Ruffin remarked : 
 
 "There's the sting again" rubbing the cheek. 
 
 "Afraid, Sir !" thundered Dalguspin, doubly mor 
 tified, and again advancing his step in a menacing 
 manner. "If you dare hint again the possibility, 
 I'll ring up the servants and have you put out, 
 Sir !" 
 
 " You 1 re not afraid, but / am for Tammie," replied 
 John Ruffin, quite at ease, but visibly rousing. 
 "You've promised and promised less time and more 
 pay, and he has been working on, waiting and 
 waiting "
 
 280 Thomas Ruffin. 
 
 "And so you come here to call me a liar," broke 
 in Black Isaac in a small fury. 
 
 "No. But if you say you can't do better, Tammie 
 leaves right away. He has promised me to leave 
 any time I say so. And he has got a place, he tells 
 me, any time he chooses to take it. He's worried to 
 death, and getting poorer every day; and I say, if 
 you say you can't do better, I'll go right down to 
 the Bank this very minute and take him home 
 thafs what I'll do." 
 
 Black Isaac recognized the absolute necessity to 
 tack about. He thought John Ruffin alluded to his 
 son's supposed hold upon him in the matter of 
 Cameron's note. Be that as it may, there must not 
 be any disturbance for the next few hours at least. 
 Thomas Ruffin must be at the Baiik to-night as usual. 
 This was enough, even if he had not now marked the 
 fire blazing up in his visitor's eyes. He, therefore, 
 replied, in a manner the most suave at his command : 
 
 "I beg you, Mr. Ruffin, to pardon my rudeness. 
 It's my way, Mr. Ruffin. I am free to own my in 
 justice to your son. He's a faithful fellow; and I 
 give you my solemn word, Sir, to make good within 
 a week all I promised, fair time and better pay." 
 
 Overjoyed, the old gentleman shambled up- 
 seized Dalguspin's right hand in both of his shook 
 and shook it most vigorously and the little cane, 
 again borne aloft, vibrated viciously near Dalgus 
 pin's head, which kept dodging about, as John 
 Ruffin cried out his warm acknowledgements : 
 
 "O thank you ! thank you ! thank you ! Mr.
 
 Thomas Ruffin. 281 
 
 Mr. " (for the moment unable to recall the name) 
 "Mr. Gusdalpin" and then giving it a twist. 
 
 With the firm grasp of gratitude John Ruffin kept 
 up the handshaking and incidental caning in a man 
 ner so energetic that Black Isaac was constrained to 
 expostulate, and that, too under the stress of the 
 physical agitation in a species of quavers, all the 
 while busy dodging away from the blows : 
 
 "I-I've n-no objection to h-hand s-shake, Mr. 
 R-Ruffin, b-but t-there's n-no n-use s-s-shaking 
 c-c-cane, Sir." 
 
 The sound of the door- bell caused John Ruffin to 
 release Black Isaac's hand which he did with a 
 rousing 
 
 "Thank you, Sir!" 
 
 "There's a visitor, Mr. Ruffin, whom at this hour 
 I am engaged to see by special appointment. I must 
 now ask you to please excuse me." 
 
 Bidding the Banker good evening, John Ruffin 
 turned and took a step towards the door. Then 
 turned towards Black Isaac, face beaming : 
 
 "And you're going to promote Tammie ?" 
 
 "Certain as the continuance of the Bank itself, 
 Mr. Ruffin. He! he! he!" 
 
 "God bless " 
 
 The door-bell rang again cutting off the sentence, 
 and John Ruffin turned and took another step to 
 wards the door. Then turned about : 
 
 "And within a week, Mr. Banker T" 1 
 
 "Within a week, Mr. Ruftin, if the Bank doesn't 
 break. He ! he ! he !"
 
 282 Thomas Rwflin. 
 
 "God bless you a .thou " 
 
 But before he could complete the- numerical ex 
 pression of the blessing, the meddlesome bell rang 
 again, and John Ruffin, turning, made yet another 
 step towards the door. Then turned : 
 
 "Tammie prays for " 
 
 He was doomed, however, to be beaten by the bell; 
 for it's ring again broke in, and John Ruffin, turn 
 ing hastily, took yet another step still towards the 
 door. Then turned about, and was in the act of 
 speaking, when the bell, responding to a vicious 
 pull, rang violently, and the old gentleman, giving 
 it up, smacked his hand to Dalguspin and precipi 
 tately shambled out, as the tardy maid ushered in 
 the impatient Noals. 
 
 He found Sabina at the corner, and they went 
 back as they had come.* The visit had been a 
 complete success. He had glad tidings for his son. 
 Should he tell him to-night, or to-morrow \ He would 
 wait and let him know it all just after breakfast, so 
 that he could go off to his work full of good fresh 
 morning news. John Ruffin felt and looked bright 
 ened up. And nature had brightened up, too, as if 
 in sympathy; for the day, that had opened with a 
 down-pour, was closing magnificently. The sun had 
 just set; but the long narrow stretches of stationary 
 curl cloud, focussed at the point of going down, 
 were bathed in his beams, and spread out, over the 
 entire western heavens, a great fan of brilliant soft
 
 Thomas Ruffin. 283 
 
 light, ribbed with converging bands of crimson 
 effulgence. A gorgeous American sunset. 
 
 They reached The Home in good time. Sister 
 Jessica had called, and, as usual, had left some 
 beautiful flowers.
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 The best laid schemes o' mice and men 
 Gang aft a-gley. Burns. 
 
 It was nigh the same hour, at which John Ruffin re 
 turned to The Home, as just related, that Friend Peale 
 and Sandy Johnson called at the Bank for a final 
 conference with Thomas touching the watch for the 
 burglar. They all thought it out of question to sup 
 pose the robbery would be attempted until at least 
 towards midnight. It was argued that Robert Small 
 must have a confederate, since, in case the Watch 
 man could not be enticed off, it would be necessary 
 to overpower him that one alone could not do this 
 without great hazard of detection and that such an 
 expert as Small had shown himself to be, would not 
 run the risk of discovery from a minimum of dis 
 turbance, not to speak of observation, until the 
 streets, comparatively at least, should be deserted. 
 This made the matter clear enough, without consider 
 ing that Small's domestic duties at Dalguspin's did 
 not close until after 11; and that from that hour, with 
 four of them on guard including the special officer 
 detailed they could put under close surveillance 
 the front door, as well as the rear.
 
 Thomas Ruffin. 285 
 
 Thomas informed them that extra work would de 
 tain him till at least near 10 o'clock; and then he must 
 go to The Home to speak to his Father who had 
 not seen or heard from him for two days, and was 
 most anxious, he knew, and would keep supper 
 waiting till midnight and to let him know, more 
 over, it was necessary he should remain away at the 
 Bank all this night. They parted with the under 
 standing to call again at the half hour to 10. 
 
 By that hour Thomas had hastened through his 
 work. Friend Peale and Sandy Johnson returned 
 on time. William, the watchman, Thomas informed 
 them, had been sent for by Dalguspin, but would be 
 back anon. A few moments later Thomas, through 
 the window, espied the special officer who was to 
 meet them on the corner at 10, and went out, with 
 Friend Peale and Sandy, to speak with him. As 
 they were engaged together talking and looking 
 over the warrant under the lamp's light, thirty 'feet 
 perhaps from the door (to avoid possible suspicion 
 the conference was outside), William as supposed 
 to be was seen to enter the Bank; and Thomas, call 
 ing to him presently from the doorway, that he was 
 going to The Home, to return within an hour, started 
 off with Friend Peale and Sandy, who, having ample 
 time to spare, proposed to accompany him the offi 
 cer being instructed, out of abundant caution, to 
 have an eye meanwhile upon th'e rear door. 
 ' In behalf of morality generally, and of the Ruffins 
 individually, it is matter for regret the degree 
 whereof must tally with the interest this narrative
 
 966 Thomas Ruffin. 
 
 may have raised that we are compelled to record 
 the absolute failure of the scheme to capture the 
 burglar. It was well laid, and the Peale party 
 were sanguine as of a sure thing, ljut, like the fore 
 sight of the famous "mousie" whose nest and nest 
 lings were disrupted by the cruel coulter, the affair 
 went "a-gley." To write it down otherwise is not 
 possible. True, the story-teller, ordinarily, is a 
 despot over his characters, holding the absolute 
 power of life and death, and his imaginative events, 
 within the limits of probability, he may draw and 
 marshal as he likes. But this narrative has abroad 
 basis of fact, and it must advance on the lines that 
 have been laid. 
 
 Nor do such miscarriages involve an arraignment 
 of Providence. Taking the mass of men and con 
 sidering the course of events, we see that virtue is 
 so often rewarded and vice punished, as to demon 
 strate that the Deity is the patron of the one, and 
 en'emy of the other. And touching the individual, 
 could we follow out his entire career into and 
 through the Beyond, assuredly we would perceive 
 absolute justice to be his portion. But, restricting 
 the eye to his span of life here, it is no less true, 
 that Providence does not always visibly aid the 
 right. 
 
 To resume the thread of our story: Friend Peale 
 and Sandy Johnson made a liesurely return, being 
 full of talk touching the capture among other cir 
 cumstances, Sandy congratulating himself upon the 
 prospect of saving his "wee pile," he having made
 
 Tliomas Ruffin. 287 
 
 recently some small deposits with Dalguspin; yet, for 
 no further reason, it may be added, than to show his 
 animus towards "Mr. Tammas" and have business 
 occasions to chat him. Meanwhile, Noals had done 
 his work effectually. In William's rig he entered 
 the Bank's front door at a quarter to 10. With keys 
 to safe and drawers in hand and the Bank already 
 plucked, five minutes sufficed to leave a burglar's 
 marks. Robert Small was on guard for him outside, 
 and signaling the coast clear, the special officer 
 being at the Bank' s rear, Noals passed oat as he had 
 gone in, and, handing Robert his money, pressed on 
 him to speed to the rendezvous, doff disguise, and 
 with all diligence make for home, and let tjie 
 watchman see him there on duty, if possible. In 
 every detail it was a complete success. Robert was 
 on time to show William out, to whose inquiry, as 
 he left the door, he gave the hour as being twenty 
 minutes past 10. 
 
 Some thirty or forty minutes had passed with' 
 Friend Peale and Sandy, when, having reached 
 the point on the street opposite the Bank, they 
 were thunderstruck by the watchman's rushing forth 
 (accompanied by a patrolman, whom, happening to 
 be near the door, William had hurried in to witness 
 the state of affairs) with resounding cries of 
 
 "Thieves! Robbers!" 
 
 They rushed over and saw in truth that the 
 Bank had been robbed. To the Quaker's in 
 quiry of the watchman, why he had not raised 
 the hue and cry sooner, William replied that
 
 288 Thomas Ruffin. 
 
 he had reached the Bank just a moment before. 
 And when Friend Peale declared that himself, with 
 Sandy Johnson and Thomas Ruffin, could witness 
 his having entered the Bank at a quarter to 1<>, and 
 that Thomas Ruffin saw him in charge and bespoke 
 him before he left for his Father's at The Home, 
 William swore with a great oath it was not so that 
 if any one had entered the Bank at that hour, it 
 must have been the robber that he was then at the 
 Banker's house and that Robert Small, who show 
 ed him out and gave him the time, could swear he 
 left the door at twenty minutes past ten. 
 
 By this time, though late, a number of persons 
 had been drawn together by the outcry and report 
 among them Noals (known to be a close friend to the 
 Banker], who said Dalguspin must be informed at 
 once, and then they would go to The Home, to see 
 what light the clerk might be able to throw upon 
 such a piece of devilment that under all the circum 
 stances, as they had just heard them, lie ought to 
 know something about it. Off, therefore, he started, 
 accompanied by the Watchman, leaving the patrol 
 man to guard the Bank. 
 
 As for Friend Peale and Sandy, they were in 
 a maze, not knowing what to think or say. A 
 darkness suddenly had come down. The former 
 observed to Sandy, that his swans certainly had 
 proven geese, touching the supposed identity of 
 Robert Small and the robber that the indirect and 
 unwitting testimony, involved in the Watchman's 
 statement was conclusive. Sandy made no reply
 
 Thomas Ruffin. 289 
 
 only shook his head. As for the hint thrown out by 
 'Noals, -that Thomas Ruffin might be implicated, they 
 tossed it to the winds. True, they had noticed, it 
 was remarked by each, that Thomas recently had 
 been in distress, brooding over some trouble and 
 losing spirit, and had declined, too, friendly over 
 tures inviting confidence. But that he should have 
 had any hand in this matter, was not to be thought 
 of unless, under some great pressure (whereof they 
 were ignorant) and temporary derangement and irre 
 sponsibility, he possibly might have been inveigled. 
 They would await the coming of Dalguspinand party, 
 and accompany them to The Home. The mere break 
 ing in upon John Ruffin at this late hour would be 
 serious. And then with such an inquiry, not to men 
 tion charge, touching his son ! There might be 
 circumstances of the gravest kind and vitally need 
 ing their aid. 
 
 The reader must now be transferred to John 
 Ruffin' s room, to learn the course of events there 
 subsequent to his return from the visit to the 
 Banker. 
 
 Aware of the special character of the day, Miss 
 Kitty had taken extra pains in providing his supper, 
 and Sabina had smuggled on the plates an unusually 
 goodly portion for "Mr. Thomas." The table was 
 set for two, but John Ruffin refrained from eating. 
 What was keeping Thomas 1 He had thought he 
 surely would be in early this evening. He had not 
 seen him since Tuesday, and then for a moment, 
 when he hurried to The Home, to say "good-night."
 
 290 Thomas Ruffin. 
 
 Should he go to the Bank ? But then he might miss 
 his son on the way, and the latter would be alarmed at 
 finding him out. No, he had better wait. If any thing 
 had happened, some word would have been sent. 
 And perhaps it was too early for him. He would 
 come presently. So the dishes were placed in wait 
 ing near the fire. And then all at once John Ruffin 
 began to bestir himself as it came upon him, that he 
 was about to forget the day and the hour. 
 
 Opening a drawer, he took therefrom a casket. It 
 contained the miniature of his first-born. A beautiful 
 specimen of art it was, richly set in solid gold, and 
 painted when his son was a little boy. He opened 
 the casket, removed the covering from its contents, 
 and placed the miniature upon the table. Next, he 
 knelt reverently in devotion rose and seated him 
 self at the table and, taking the miniature of this 
 lost son, dwelt upon it. What heart-wrung thoughts 
 such pictures of childhood have called up in many a 
 parent under circumstances like those in which we 
 find this broken, sad-eyed man picture of some 
 dear son, who went out never more to return ! It 
 takes us back years and years, when he was a pure 
 child on our knee, before the world had touched 
 him. What hopes gathered around him then ! In 
 what dreams did we forecast his career ! If he grew 
 up wild and disappointing, he was our own and 
 dear to us still. Perhaps it was to break away from 
 those who had led him off, that he would go forth, 
 with high resolve to make his mark. How vividly 
 we recall that parting hour ! What heart-ache lay
 
 Thomas Ruffin. 291 
 
 hidden beneath the smile put forward to encourage 
 him ! And how we strained and strained the eye to 
 catch the last glimpse ! And now he is lost to view ! 
 The great hard world has closed inexorably over 
 him. Oh ! what darkness then ! What tears of bitter 
 ness ! 
 
 And in process of time came another sinking hour, 
 when the tardy news came, all too late to reach him, 
 that he was about to be no more ! Striving in vain 
 against fate, too proud to return with such a record, 
 he had gone down in the struggle far off from us, 
 among strangers ! 
 
 It was a current of feeling after this kind that 
 found expression in the following soliloquy, as John 
 Ruffin gazed upon the miniature : 
 
 "My first-born ! The beginning of my strength ! 
 Lost ! Lost ! 'Tis his very image. How innocent and 
 sweet he looks here, as a little child ! I remember 
 this little jacket he used to wear and this ring upon 
 his finger, I remember so well the day I put it on." 
 
 He pauses in tears. 
 
 "What a fine fellow he was ? so bright and hand 
 some ! How tenderly I watched over him ! What 
 pride I took in him ! How thankfully I thought of 
 him as the staff and comfort in my old age !" 
 
 He pauses in meditation. 
 
 "But he grew wayward and roving and would go 
 off. Ah-h ! that day he left us, that bitter, bitter 
 day ! How well I recall it i I can't recollect what 
 happens now, but I recoDect that. 'Twas a sweet 
 day in May, full of sunshine and warmth so unlike
 
 292 Thomas Ruffin. 
 
 my darkened wretched heart. A smile was on his 
 face, and he spoke so hopefully of what he meant to 
 do poor fellow !" 
 
 Again he pauses in tears. 
 
 "He stood on deck waving adieu, and we stood 
 straining our eyes till the boat ro*unded the river's 
 bend; and as he became lost to view, it seemed as if 
 some evil spirit had come down, and closed around 
 him, and gathered him to itself, and parted him 
 from me forever !". 
 
 John Ruffin breaks down completely, weeping 
 aloud. Then dwells in silence on the miniature, and 
 becomes more composed after his tears. 
 
 "At first he wrote often and in such high spirits. 
 He had troubles, we heard, but lie never spoke of 
 them. By and bye letters came less and less fre 
 quent, and hope seemed to be going out. Then short 
 hurried notes, far apart, saying only he was well. 
 At last no letters, and we could hear nothing from 
 others !" 
 
 He again pauses in tears, which end in an outburst 
 of passionate grief : 
 
 "Is my boy dead, my first-born ? Or has evil come 
 to him has he gone down, low, low, low and 
 ashamed to write \ O God ! O God ! if he be living 
 yet, give him back in my day of trouble, and let me 
 see his face before I die !" 
 
 Touching this soliloquy we have to observe: John 
 Ruffin spoke generally in a slow broken way from 
 "difficulty both in comprehending and in expressing 
 ideas. If the above (well conceived and smoothly
 
 Thomas Ruflin. 293 
 
 uttered) as well as other passages in this narrative 
 should seem out of place in a daft man, let it be 
 remembered, that John Ruffm's intelligence, while 
 weakened, had not been destroyed. There were, 
 moreover, mental ebbings and flowings at times a 
 combination, a strange combination, of shrewdness 
 and the baldest simplicity. Again, his general con 
 dition really was improving; and his mind always 
 acted better, too, when turned strongly, as here, 
 upon some definite point of interest in the far away 
 past. And in regard to this particular soliloquy, it 
 was in no small degree mechanical. That is, while 
 the sentiment was fully there, the course of thought 
 and expression the hopes that had centred in this 
 lost son, the lamentations, the supplication for his 
 return had all been repeated substantially, year 
 after year, on his hallowed birth-day. 
 
 John Ruffin was about to replace the miniature, 
 when Sabina entered, to say a man had come with a 
 chair. In momentary expectation of Thomas, he 
 would have turned the man away, in all liklihood, 
 if his and Sabina' s 'Bus fares had not exhausted his 
 pennies. So he told Sabina to bring the man round 
 to his door, supposing he would be detained by him 
 but a second. Presently the man came in, a rough 
 looking workman. As he entered he was seen to 
 reel and tremble, and, drawing a flask, drank from it. 
 
 "Who are you ? Drunk?" John Ruflin sharply 
 asked, offended at the man's apparent condition. 
 
 "Grim John Grim. No drunk. Got touch o'
 
 Thomas Ruffin. 
 
 the staggers. Have' em sometimes. This stuff '11 set 
 me up." 
 
 "There's a glass and a pitcher of water," said 
 John Ruffin who was partial to grog, pointing to the 
 things on the table, and speaking in a kindly voice, 
 the atonement of conscience for the unmerited im 
 putation. 
 
 "No water, thank ye. I'm like the fellah who 
 said, no prohibiton in his'n." 
 
 "What do you want?" 
 
 "A jam-up bottom to this here cheer here. I hear 
 ye' re cheap and puts up a good job, and them's the 
 terms as suit me to a T." 
 
 "There's my work," pointing to a specimen chair. 
 
 "Snug job," remarked Grim, as he examined the 
 chair. "Yer price \ Mind, I'm poor." 
 
 "That's no disgrace." 
 
 "No disgrace, but it's onhandy. Yer price ?" 
 
 "Half dollar." 
 
 "Well, twis' me out a bottom like this here, and 
 the money's yourn. And it's worth a dollar, too, 
 and here's the ready money cash down," placing in 
 John Ruffin' s hand a new bright silver dollar. 
 
 John Ruffin really was delighted. It was such a 
 nice looking coin, and so timely. He would give it 
 to Thomas to-night, instead of putting it into fois 
 own purse. 
 
 Grim, who had been eyeing the room, as if for a 
 purpose, looked up at the print on the left wall, 
 with the remark :
 
 Thomas Muffin. 295 
 
 "I'll take a look at yer picturs. Mighty fond o' 
 picturs." 
 
 John Ruffin' s good- will having been secured by 
 the dollar, he made no objection. Grim, therefore, 
 moved round the room apparently giving thought 
 to the prints, but furtive! y watching John Ruffin, 
 whose back was towards him. As he reached the 
 bed, over which hung a print, with a quick glance 
 at his man and sudden movement he drew out a 
 roll of bills and was about to thrust it between the 
 mattresses, when the old gentleman turned towards 
 him and unconsciously frustrated the attempt. 
 
 "Been in the city long?" asked Grim, seating 
 himself on the bed. 
 
 John Ruffin replied with a negative movement of 
 the head. 
 
 "Been twistin' shucks long ?" 
 
 John Ruffin remained silent. 
 
 "Reckon not, old friend. Yer fingers don't look 
 horny like. Reckon you've seed better days." 
 
 John Ruffin continued silent, showing symptoms 
 of annoyance. 
 
 "Where did ye come from ?" 
 
 "That's my business." 
 
 "So it is darn my buttons, if it isn't," said 
 Grim, who, if his speech was scrubby, really had a 
 kindly winning tone and manner, as good policy re 
 quired. '"Scuse me. Didn't mean to worrit ye. 
 Ev'ry feller has round him his own little circle like, 
 and a stranger's foot dasn't go in." 
 
 "Whe-e-w !" he presently remarked, all the while
 
 296 Thomas 
 
 on a lookout to discover, or make a way for, an 
 opening to get in his work, "this here room of 
 yourn's hot as old Harry's, and I've ketched a git- 
 tarrh" giving, as do the illiterate, a strong accent 
 to the first syllable. "'Spose you open the door." 
 
 Hard of hearing, John Ruffin looked at Grim in a 
 puzzled way. Then rose and turned towards the 
 door. Grim, seizing the chance, made a quick move 
 ment, and was on the point of thrusting the money- 
 roll between the mattresses, when John Ruffin again 
 unwittingly frustrated him by turning and asking : 
 
 "Did you say you fetched a guitar to the door?" 
 
 "Ha ! ha ! ha ! No-o-o, my old friend. I said I'd 
 ketched a g^Ytarrh, a ^Ytarrh in my head a bad 
 cold, don't you know ? and wants fresh air. What 
 cPyou call the tarnation thing?" 
 
 "Oh-h-h ! replied John Ruffin, who by this time 
 had lost the full dollar's worth of patience, "if you 
 want fresh air, you can leave." 
 
 "Now, ye' 11 let a feller rest a bit, as what's 
 brought a job, and paid double price cash down 
 won't ye ? He mought have another." 
 
 John Ruffin thought upon the new bright coin in 
 his pocket and of the pleasure he would have in pre 
 senting it to his son, and Grim's argument" had 
 weight enough at least to arrest his hintings. In 
 resuming his seat in silence he directly faced the 
 bed, and Grim, whose work was to be eifected within 
 narrow time limits, saw something must be done to 
 change his position. He had noticed a miniature 
 upon the table. Rising now from his seat on the
 
 Thomas Ruffin. 297 
 
 bed, he took the miniature in hand, and began a 
 haphazard sort of conversation, in the hope it might 
 lead in some way to his getting a chance. 
 
 "It's fine!" he said, holding the portrait admir 
 ingly before him. Then, having rubbed the setting 
 and smelt the finger, he broke out : 
 
 "Blast my buttons ! if this here rim and back here 
 ain't real gold ! Whose pictur?" 
 
 "Mine." 
 
 "O do tell me somethin' I doesn't know. Whose 
 likeness mought it be ?" 
 
 "My son's." 
 
 "Reckon yer look at it ev'ry day." 
 
 "I look at it once a year." 
 
 "Once a year ! Gre-e-e whillikens !" 
 
 "I take it out on his birthday." 
 
 "This his birthday ?" 
 
 "Yes.". 
 
 "How old?" 
 
 "Twenty-six." 
 
 "Where is he?" 
 
 "Don't know." 
 
 "Living?" 
 
 "Can't say." 
 
 "Spiled in the raisin', p'r'aps." 
 
 John Ruffin was silent. 
 
 "Did he leave you ?" 
 
 "Yes" after a pause. 
 
 For a moment Gfrim stroked the full grisly beard 
 of disguise. Then, as though struck by an animat 
 ing thought, he advanced, extending the hand :
 
 298 Thomas Muffin. 
 
 "Yer hand, my old friend, I'll be dog gone ef we 
 ain't paddlin' in the same cunnoe." 
 
 "What do you mean ?" 
 
 "Why, my boy, too, lef me four year back ; and 
 I hain't heerd a word frum him a hul year las' peach 
 time. But I'm 'spectin' him to turn up, I is." 
 
 This struck a warm deep current of sentiment in 
 John Ruffin, who immediately became interested in 
 his visitor. With sparkling eyes Grim saw the hit 
 and worked the idea for all it was worth. 
 
 "I is, in truth," he went on. "He's my oldest 
 boy, and times is hard. It's apurtybad bread-and- 
 butter scuffle, and takes a mighty hard pull to git 
 along, with my old woman and little ones to tote. 
 But, says I to myself, says I, one day, when I'm in 
 the straits and all down-hearted, and feel I'm all 
 forsakin, and the world's all agin me, I'll hear a tap 
 at the door." 
 
 "Hear what ?" John Ruffin asked, not catching 
 the word. 
 
 "A tap at the door. Come in, says I, and in comes 
 my boy, with a smile on his face, and gold in his 
 wallet. Ha! ha! ha!" 
 
 "I hope so," said John Ruffin, looking full at 
 Grim with eyes of sympathy." 
 
 "Yes-sir-re ! I'm 'spectin' my boy to turn up yet; 
 and, mebbe, yourn'll turn up, too. Yes, I guess he'll 
 come back alive some day, like Jonidab frum the 
 whale's belly. Patience, patience. Don't yer know 
 mulberry leaves in time gits to be satin ?" 
 
 "I'm praying for his coming every day."
 
 Thomas Muffin. 299 
 
 To secure John Ruffin's interest was a primary 
 condition, since it involved acquiescence in his re 
 maining, and Grim felt he had made a critical hit. 
 Still, the minutes were flying and no chance in sight, 
 till John Ruffin spoke of his praying every day for 
 his son's return. Grim now thought he perceived 
 how he could change presently his posture without 
 creating suspicion, and have the game in hand. So 
 he began a run on "praying," conjugating it in all 
 its moods, tenses, and inflexions : 
 
 "You're a pray in' man ?" 
 
 "I am." 
 
 "Ever git anything ?" 
 
 "Get anything ! My prayers are heard so often 
 I'm almost afraid to ask God for anything." 
 
 "Why so?" 
 
 "I might ask for something I ought not to." 
 
 "Ge-e-e whillikens ! Reckon you love to go to 
 meetin'." 
 
 "Love to go to meet him ? Do you mean Tammie ? 
 I love to to meet him" 
 
 "Ha! ha! ha! Way off the track. I mean, do 
 yer love to go to church?" 
 
 "Oh-h 1 Sometimes. Can't go in bad weather." 
 
 "Why so?" 
 
 "I haven't any money to buy a seat, and they put 
 me in a back corner behind the pillars, where it's 
 cold and I can't see or hear. But it's a good place 
 to pray." 
 
 "Benin' the pillars ! Darn my buttons ! ef some
 
 300 Thomas Ruffin. 
 
 of these old fellers a prayin' behin' the pillars, ain't 
 the pillars theirselves." 
 
 "The pillars!" exclaimed John Ruffin, not fully 
 catching Grim's words, and puzzled as to his mean 
 ing. 
 
 "Yes, the biggest sort of pillars; but the preacher, 
 he can't see 'em. He sees them as set in the front pews 
 and shells out, and calls them the church's props. 
 But more an likely the blessin' as what holds up 
 the hull consarn, is some poor old neglectit shinin' 
 soul in a back corner, a prayin' behin' the pillars. 
 Them's my sentiments." 
 
 "You must pray too, remarked John Ruffin, with 
 an interest in his visitor enhanced by his apparent 
 religious character and the special quality of his 
 views a quality seemingly all the finer, as proceed 
 ing from so rough looking a fellow. 
 
 "Be dog! ef I don't," responded Grim promptly; 
 "and I feel like prayin' this very blessed minit. 
 Let' s git right down here and pray fur our poor boys. ' ' 
 
 John Ruffin made a movement as if to get on his 
 knees facing Grim and the bed, when the latter 
 interposed : 
 
 "Stop, my friend, stop ! Look a here ! Ain't yer 
 goin' to pray to'ards the East ?" 
 
 "I don't know what you mean." 
 
 "I mean it's better to pray to'ards the East. I 
 allers do." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 "Why! Don't yer know, when the Lord wus 
 born, His star 'peared in the East f And don't yer
 
 Thomas Ruffin. 301 
 
 know, when He comes to jedge, with a great light all 
 about Him, and all the shiny angels a follerin', He's 
 to come frum the East ? And don't yer know, when 
 the grave-diggers dig their graves, they dig their 
 heads to'ards the West, so that, when they rise up, 
 they won't have to turn all round to see Old Master 
 a comin' frum the East? And don't yer know all 
 the churches have their halters at the East end; 
 and so, when the people are all a prayin', and have 
 their necks bent to the halters, they're a facin' of 
 the East ?" 
 
 "I didn't know." 
 
 "It's so, fur certain and sure. And now lets git 
 right down here on our marrow-bones, both on us, 
 and pray fur our boys. You pray to'ards that there 
 door there. That's to'ards the East." 
 
 "Will you really pray with me ?" 
 
 "Will I pray with yer ! In course I will. I'm a 
 prayin' man frum the word 'go.' I can make a 
 prayer as quick as ye can shuffle a deck; and I can 
 pray, too, as long a's any man. Try me. Try me 
 and see." 
 
 "Let us pray, then." 
 
 If ever it be true as no doubt it often is that the 
 sincerity and depth of a prayer may be measured by 
 the exteriors of the suppliant, the air of unaffected 
 humility, the subdued and mindful reverence, trans 
 parent in this afflicted man as he knelt, was the 
 counterpart to the swell of pure tender sentiment, 
 which, inspired by the hallowed hour, he presented 
 before God. Grim, too, knelt at the bedside; and
 
 302 Thomas Ruffin. 
 
 immediately he made use of the chance to hide away 
 between the mattresses the money-roll. The job 
 had been a difficult one, and his wits much longer 
 on the stretch than he had anticipated. He con 
 sulted his watch. Time was up. He was to meet the 
 cracksman, to stand guard outside the Barik, or the 
 scheme would fail. To make the meeting now was 
 barely possible. Unfortunately, he reflected, he 
 had flung down the glove to a prayer contest; and 
 while John Ruffin was sincere every whit, with no 
 thought of a profane physical endurance, Grim, see 
 ing his spiritual turn, did not know how long he 
 might not remain kneeling, and to pronounce, there 
 fore, a loud "amen" and rise, was an absolute neces 
 sity. John Ruffin, whose memorial prayer had been 
 offered already, rose, too, and reverently. 
 
 "Hope yer prayer will bring yer boy," remarked 
 Grim, preparing to leave. 
 
 "I hope so." 
 
 "I'll call fur the cheer next week. God bless yer." 
 
 "God bless you, too." 
 
 Grim's gumption and kindly way had held secure 
 ly John Ruffin' s attention, to the exclusion of other 
 thoughts. As he passed out, the latter looked up 
 at the clock, and suddenly becoming conscious of 
 Thomas' prolonged absence, exclaimed, with dismay 
 written upon his countenance : 
 
 "Good gracious! It's long past Tammie's time. 
 Why, why don't he come !" 
 
 At once he is agitated profoundly, the mental 
 condition finding expression in divers movements,
 
 Thomas Ruffin. 303 
 
 now hasting up and down the room, now wringing 
 the hands, now stroking the head, stirring the lire, 
 touching up the table, &c., &c., in the vain effort to 
 lessen the pressure of thought in one direction by 
 dividing it. Finally, he kneels a moment in prayer. 
 Rising, he bewails the hour : 
 
 "He's here these late Thursdays a little after 7. 
 It's now after 9. Oh ! I wish he would come !" 
 
 Now he hurries to the window and looks up and 
 down the street, muttering, as he lowers the sash : 
 t; How r those stars glitter ! so cold ! so pitiless !" 
 Again he bestirs himself about the room in a whirl 
 of distress, pitiable to behold. No human being 
 knew the depth of the suffering his morbid anxieties 
 inflicted. Reflecting a moment, he breaks out in a 
 degree of agony : 
 
 "Gracious me! he may've been robbed! My 
 God!" 
 
 He kneels and prays a moment. Then, all beside 
 himself, in a state of excitement seemingly ap 
 proaching a paroxysm, he flies to the window and 
 scans the street again : 
 
 "My-y ! my-y ! nearly every light is out ! Oh ! I 
 do wish he would come !" 
 
 Scarcely had he lowered the sash, when, catching 
 a foot-fall, he raises his head and listens intently. 
 
 "I believe that's his step," he whispers between 
 hope and fear. 
 
 He looks from the window. The anguish has pass 
 ed. The pressure is gone. A light and happy heart 
 rings out :
 
 304 Thomas Ruffin. 
 
 "Yes, yes ! It is, it is ! O you winking, laugh 
 ing little stars, you've got another face now." 
 
 Thrice happy, indeed, was John Ruffin to meet 
 his son looking, too, so animated and improved ; 
 for the work in hand to night had inspirited 
 Thomas. Again and again he embraced him. Again 
 and again, by word and by action, did he manifest 
 his joy. Observing on the table the flowers Sister 
 Jessica had brought that afternoon, Thomas pres 
 ently disengaged a M-oss Rose and transferred it to 
 his button-hole. 
 
 "I'm glad," remarked his Father, "it's not a she 
 who sends the roses." 
 
 There was a twinkle in Thomas Ruffin' s eye, un 
 observed by his Father, as he recalled how cleverly 
 Sister Jessica had extricated herself from a certain 
 difficulty ; for John Ruffin had been careful to de 
 tail to his son the conversation with the Sister re 
 specting the sender of these flowers. But the pre 
 vailing thought was in another quarter. Thomas, 
 now brightened up and in a sanguine hopeful frame 
 touching everything, had taken the rose full of ten 
 der -sentiment towards Amy Sanford, and what his 
 Father did observe, was, that, as he spoke of the 
 roses, the blood mantled his son's cheek. 
 
 "What on earth's the matter?" he anxiously 
 asked, peering into Thomas's face. 
 
 "Nothing, Father nothing at all." 
 
 "Yes, I'm glad it wasn't a slie" John Ruffin went 
 on, touching the same sensitive string. "One of these 
 days, when you get older, will be time enough to be
 
 Thomas Ruffin. 305 
 
 thinking about she's and sweethearts and there it 
 is again," breaking in upon himself on observing 
 again the mantling blood. "Your face has all at 
 once colored. Something is the matter. Why do 
 you look so, my son?" 
 
 "The cool night air may have brought the color." 
 
 "I never thought of that. I'm so glad to know 
 the reason." 
 
 "And I'm glad, Father, to see you so bright to 
 night." 
 
 "Bright! Oh! I'd almost forgotten, I've got 
 something bright for you. Here's the money for a 
 chair" showing the dollar. "See! What a nice 
 new coin ! And now it's all yours" pressing the 
 coin in his son's hand, "and I'm so glad' I can do a 
 little to help along." 
 
 "I am glad you can help along, Father, but far 
 more glad to see your thoughts so clear. It's many 
 a long day since I've heard you talk so well." 
 
 "This is your brother's birth-day, Tammie, and I've 
 been thinking and thinking about him and then 
 about the time when he left us and then about the 
 time when he was a little boy at Cloud Cap. I think 
 better, when I think of things way back. And my 
 thoughts to-night about these way back things, have 
 been so clear, that I seem to think better about 
 everything. And I feel strange, too, my son, as if 
 waking from a dream. And a dread is on me, too, 
 as if something might happen. You know they say 
 clouded minds sometimes brighten up, when the 
 light's about to go out for good."
 
 306 . Thomas Ruffin. 
 
 "I'm delighted to hear you speak so much like 
 yourself," said Thomas, struck by his Father's un 
 usual fullness and clearness of speech, and embrac 
 ing him. "My dear Father, your are so much bet 
 ter. And let us thank God for it." 
 
 "I do, my son I do." 
 
 "And put away the dread you seem to have of 
 some evil about to happen. There is something 
 going to happen - " 
 
 "What is it? what is it?" quickly interrupted 
 John Ruffin with look of alarm, drawing his chair 
 close to that of his son and seizing his hand, as if to 
 shield himself from some impending danger. "I 
 feared so, Tammie." 
 
 "Nothing bad, Father, I assure you. It's going 
 to happen to-night, and 
 
 "To-night !" his fears again interrupting. 
 
 "Yes, Father, but don't be alarmed. I must leave 
 for the Bank directly after supper. I've some 
 special work on hand there, and may be kept away 
 all night." 
 
 "All night, my son !" alarm increasing. 
 
 "Yes, Father. But you must not be uneasy. It's 
 not bad, I say." 
 
 "Is what's to happen anything to do with the 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "And can't you tell me what it is?" 
 
 "Not now, not well now" his Father would have 
 been frantic, had he known Thomas was to be en 
 gaged in watching for a burglar. "I'll explain it
 
 Thomas Muffin. 307 
 
 all lo-morrow. Believe me when I tell you it's not 
 bad, but something for my good, as well as for the 
 good of the Bank" 
 
 John Ruffin reflected a moment, and then joyfully 
 exclaimed : 
 
 "O Tammie ! I know what it is. The Banker is 
 going to promote you." 
 
 "I can say this much, that what's going to happen 
 is very likely to result in my being promoted." 
 
 "I thought so. O I'm so glad. You deserve it, 
 my son. You've worked so hard and for so little 
 pay. And r oe got some good news for you, too. 
 But 1 shall keep it till to-morrow, just as you do 
 yours. And there's money in it for you. too." 
 
 "Yes, Father, I think I can count now on having 
 more money, and being able to provide for you bet 
 ter." 
 
 "My son, you provide for me now very well, in 
 deed. You've just given me these nice flannels I've 
 got on; and when I go out and the wind blows cold 
 and I feel so snug, it seems to me as if these flannels 
 were your own arms round me, making me warm 
 and comfortable." 
 
 "But I shall provide for you better still." 
 
 "My dear, dear son !" 
 
 "And I shall be able, too, to put by something 
 every month. We will save and save, and put by 
 more and more." 
 
 "That we will, that we will." 
 
 "And- after a time," went on Thomas, flushed by 
 his environments and with the future rosy before
 
 308 Thomas Ruffin. 
 
 him, "I shall be able to go into business on my own 
 account; and we shall have a home of our own 
 
 "My dear, dear son !" 
 
 "with every comfort round you 
 
 "Dear, dear son !" 
 
 "and servants to wait on you." 
 
 "My dear, dear son !" 
 
 "And my business will grow and grow; and after 
 a time, when the money's in hand, I shall go down 
 South and buy back for you" Thomas pauses an 
 instant, and his Father tightens the grasp on his 
 hand and looks up at him with beaming expectancy 
 "what d'you think, Father? Why, I shall buy 
 back dear old Cloud Cap /" 
 
 At this John Ruffin burst into tears. Then rising, 
 he put his arms about his son's neck, and, as Thomas 
 went on, murmured out his joy upon his breast. 
 
 "And we shall put a man in charge, Father, and 
 have it cultivated, just as you used to cultivate it. 
 And we shall spend a part of each year at dear old 
 Cloud Cap. And you'll ride over the fields that 
 knew you before. And I shall see again every old 
 familiar spot I loved when a boy, the places where 
 I set my partridge traps and hare snares, and the 
 old branch crossing where I used to build my mud 
 dams and run my corn-stalk flutter wheels; and, 
 Father, we shall be so 
 
 Thomas suddenly paused at the sound of hurried 
 feet and voices on the steps, as of men making for 
 the door. In alarm father and son part from their 
 embrace.
 
 Thomas Ruffm. 309 
 
 "What's that Tarnmie?" 
 
 "I don't know." 
 
 There was a rap. Thomas rushed to answer it, 
 and, as he opened the door, faced Dalguspin. 
 
 "For God's sake, what's the matter ?" he cried, as 
 his glance revealed others in the rear of Dalguspin. 
 
 "I'll tell you in a moment. Let this officer in." 
 
 Thomas' first thought was for his Father. Dread 
 ing the effect of such a demonstration and at mid 
 night, too he hastened back to his side, amazed 
 and bewildered. The officer was followed in by the 
 Watchman and Noals Noals being followed by 
 Robert Small, who remained apart in the rear. A 
 moment later Friend Peale and Sandy Johnson en 
 tered and stood back near the door, resolved to see 
 the end of this most strange affair. Meanwhile the 
 investigation had begun. 
 
 "The Bank has been robbed, young man ! What 
 do you know about it ?" asked Dalguspin, address 
 ing Thomas who stood breathless, with his Father 
 trembling behind him. 
 
 Thomas made no reply. That he, a party to cap 
 ture the robber, should be charged or suspected of 
 being in any sense a party to the robbery, absolutely 
 confounded him. He stood speechless and pale as 
 death, looking Black Isaac full in the face, but un 
 able to utter a word. 
 
 "What do you know about it, I say?" 
 
 "Nothing," Thomas stammered out. 
 
 "Nothing! Why then leave before the Watch 
 man's return?"
 
 3iO Thomas Huffin. 
 
 "I did not." 
 
 "You did ! you did !" asserted William, speaking 
 up and advancing. 
 
 "/ did not!" 
 
 ''You did! you did!" repeated William. 
 
 "I will swear I did not leave before your return. 
 I left a few moments after you came in, and every 
 thing was straight then." 
 
 Had Thomas Ruffin seen Friend Peale and Sandy 
 Johnson, no doubt he would have called upon them 
 to witness his words. But they were standing far 
 back and somewhat to his side, with a single candle 
 to give light to the room. And even had they been 
 within the line of vision, their presence would have 
 escaped him; for, under the tremendous excitement, 
 he saw not a soul save the person he was addressing. 
 Friend Peale, on his part, did not think the moment 
 opportune to speak, seeing he had made already a 
 statement to the Watchman and others at the Bank. 
 
 "It's a lie as God's my witness !" avowed William. 
 "At what hour did you leave ?" 
 
 "A quarter to 10." 
 
 "By the Bank's clock?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Now, see how you are caught : When I entered 
 the Bank I found the safe had been robbed and at 
 once gave the alarm. This officer" pointing to po 
 liceman "was at the door when I came up. He saw 
 me go in and rush out. The interval was not one 
 minute. I took him in, to see how things were, and 
 called his attention to the time, and the Bank's
 
 Thomas Ruffin. 311 
 
 clock showed forty minutes past 10! Isn't it so, 
 Mr. Officer ?" 
 
 The officer nodded assent. 
 
 Thomas made no reply. He could make none 
 against the statement of William, supported by the 
 officer. He was dazed. The only thing clear to him 
 was his innocence. He was unable to see how an 
 error might have occurred how the person whom 
 he had taken to be the Watchman could have been 
 any other than' William. Was there a conspiracy 
 against him it flashed into his mind on the part 
 of William and the officer? Or was he the prey of 
 some evil spirit, doomed to be entangled and led on 
 to ruin ? He stood' silent and confused, with the 
 blood mounting into his pallid countenance. 
 
 By this time the Institution, which had been all 
 abed, was aroused. Miss Kitty and Sabina hurried 
 down. The officer was on the lookout at the inner 
 door for the authorities, to explain. Miss Kitty was 
 fighting mad to learn The Home had been invaded 
 in this style, to make such a bastard lying charge 
 against "Mr. Thomas," and that a million Dalgus- 
 pins she knew something of Black Isaac might 
 swear themselves black and blue before she'd believe 
 a word of it. When she entered, a glance at the 
 situation, the perplexity and distress of the father 
 and son, wrung her heart, and, intensely roused, it 
 was all the officer could do, to restrain her from 
 "pitching in" with a red hot Irish hand, he warning 
 her that the proceedings were a kind of court, &c. 
 
 John Ruffin had been standing aghast behind
 
 312 Thomas Ruflin. 
 
 Thomas. Recovered now from the immediately par 
 alyzing effect of the shock, he leaped into a flame, 
 and came forward approaching Dalguspiri : 
 
 "Do you charge my son with robbing the Bank f" 
 
 There were a score of persons in the room, with 
 officer of the law. But the awful wrath of this 
 stricken old man who seemed to swell and get big 
 ger under its influence, advancing on him with lips 
 quivering, eyes blazing, and cane (which he always 
 carried) uplifted, was more than Bhack Isaac's ner 
 vous organism was framed to bear. He sprang back, 
 and tremors seized him extending from the cerebel 
 lum to the lowest vertebrae of the spinal column. 
 
 "Down with that there stick," commanded the 
 officer, interposing. 
 
 "Do you charge my son with robbing the Bank ?" 
 
 "I've made no charge. I'm here to find out what 
 your son may know about this robbery. He has 
 been taken already in a lie " 
 
 "He can't tell a lie !" fiercely broke in John 
 Ruffin, again advancing with uplifted cane. 
 
 "Down with that there stick there, I say," re 
 peated the officer, stepping in front of John Ruffin. 
 
 "Didn't you hear how your son was caught?" 
 went on Black Isaac, at a discreet distance from the 
 enraged father. "Didn't he say he left the Bank, 
 by the Bank's clock at fifteen minutes to ten, 
 when the Watchman entered ? And isn't it proved 
 by this officer, that, when the Watchman entered, 
 the Bank's clock showed forty minutes past 10? 
 What d'you say to that ?"
 
 Thomas Muffin. 313 
 
 "That my son cannot tell a lie." 
 
 "I'll waste no more words on an old fool. We'll 
 have this room searched. Here's the officer to do 
 it." 
 
 "Searched for what?" 
 
 "Money." 
 
 "Money ! Tammie has worked and worked day 
 and night, but you haven't given him enough to lay 
 by any." 
 
 Dalguspin saw it would be better to smooth mat 
 ters over, if possible, and, in a conciliatory strain 
 leading up to the end in view, adroitly said : 
 
 "Mr. Ruffin, you do right to stand up for your 
 son. It appears he has gotten into a hole. There's 
 one way out. It may have been the robber, dis 
 guised as the Watchman, who entered the Bank at 
 a quarter to 10 and deceived your son." 
 
 "That's how it was ! that's how it was !" ardently 
 exclaimed John Ruffin. 
 
 "We shall have this room searched; and if noth 
 ing be found to fix guilt on your son, I shall suppose 
 he must have been tricked in this way, and will fully 
 repay both you and him for having hinted such a 
 charge." 
 
 This turn considered a most reasonable view of 
 the case sent a great thrill of joy through the 
 hearts of Thomas and his friends. 
 
 "Will you, Mr. Banker?" entreatingly asked 
 John Ruffin, now completely pacified, seeing light 
 ahead. 
 
 "Yes. But, should money in suspicious amounts 
 be found "
 
 314 Thomas Ruffin. 
 
 "Good Mr. Banker ! Good Mr. Banker!" cried 
 out John Ruffin, eagerly breaking in and taking 
 Black Isaac's hand in both of his, "you say you'll 
 do some thing good for Tammie, if you find nothing ?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Good Mr. Banker! Tammie," he continued, 
 turning to his son, "they'll find nothing, and it'll 
 turnout for your good. You said this evening some 
 thing might happen to-night for your good, and it's 
 going to be so." 
 
 "Did you hear that?" asked Dalguspin of the 
 officer, aside. Then aloud to John Ruffin : 
 
 "What was it you said?" 
 
 "I said Tammie told me this evening something 
 was going to happen to-night for his good." 
 
 Dalguspin, aside, nods to the officer. 
 
 "Was it anything in connection with the Bank ?" 
 
 "Yes. He said 'twas about the Bank, but wouldn't 
 tell me what. He said 'twould make him better off, 
 and he'd be able to provide for me better." 
 
 Dalguspin, aside, again nods to the officer. 
 
 Here was another turn, and one unfortunate for 
 Thomas. He could not deny a word his Father just 
 had spoken, yet saw how pointedly they compro 
 mised him. Neither had he the presence of mind to 
 attempt an explanation. He had noticed the bye- 
 play between Dalguspin and the officer as had, too, 
 all the rest save John Ruffin, dull of eyes and ears. 
 A deathly sense of being forsaken and devoted came 
 over him forsaken by the good influences. It has 
 been mentioned in a back chapter, that the superin-
 
 Thomas Ruffin. 315 
 
 tendence of angels was impressed early and vividly 
 upon his consciousness. He felt now in his con 
 fused, bewildered state of mind that the evil spirits 
 had him. An awful sense arose of some plot they 
 had formed against him, and to further which they 
 had beguiled his own dear Father to incriminate 
 him in the very effort to defend. As for his friends, 
 a horrible fear began to take shape. They hung 
 their heads. Could such a thing be possible ! 
 
 "That's all he would say," went on John Ruffin; 
 "but I see how it is now. Will you promote. him, 
 Mr. Banker?" 
 
 "Yes. I think now your son will soon have a 
 change of position" aside to the officer, "under 
 your guidance." 
 
 "Good Mr. Banker ! good Mr. Banker /" You 
 may search, but you won't tind anything. If you 
 haven't paid Tammie to-day, there's only one silver 
 dollar in this room, and that's in Tammie' s pocket, 
 and that I gave him myself. If you find any more, 
 you may take Tammie. Yes, you may take my 
 Tammie^ turning to his son and taking his hand, 
 "if you find any more than that. But, Tammie, 
 they'll find nothing, and it'll all turn out for your 
 good." 
 
 "Make the search," said Black Isaac, addressing 
 the officer. 
 
 With the dispatch and skill of an expert the offi 
 cer went through John Ruffin and Thomas, finding 
 on the latter a silver dollar and one or two pieces of 
 small change. Then, turning attention to the bu-
 
 316 Thomas Ruffin. 
 
 reau, a few moments sufficed to finish his work there. 
 
 "Nothin' but the silver dollar just as Pap de 
 clared," he said to Dalguspin upon the completion 
 of the search. "Looks, Grov'nor, like a water haul." 
 
 "Why don't you search the bed ?" suggested 
 Noals. "Plunder would be more apt to be hidden 
 there than anywhere else." 
 
 "That's so," replied the officer; and going to the 
 bed and turning over the upper mattress, he finds 
 something which he seizes and examines with great 
 interest. The attention of all suddenly is roused to 
 a high pitch. 
 
 "Have you found anything?" asks Dalguspin ad 
 vancing. 
 
 The officer turns, holding something in his hand, 
 and, for a moment, looks fixedly at Thomas. Then 
 addresses him in low, incriminating tones: 
 
 "Where did this come from?" extending his 
 hand, as he speaks. 
 
 In his distraught state of mind Thomas had fol 
 lowed the search fascinated, not knowing what be- 
 devilment might not turn up. He was in a species 
 of trance and absolutely unable to answer the offi 
 cer's question. 
 
 "Where did this come from, I say, young man 
 this roll of ten fifty dollar bills ?" 
 
 Screams burst from Miss Kitty and Sabina a cry 
 of horror from Friend Peale and Sandy Johnson. 
 John Ruffin's deafness had not caught the officer's 
 words, yet he realizes something appalling has hap 
 pened and asks excitedly :
 
 Thomas Ruffin. 317 
 
 "What is it, Tammie?" 
 
 "I'll tell you," said Dalguspin. '.'Five hundred 
 dollars have been found hidden between the mat 
 tresses, and your Tammie is a thief and a bank- 
 robber !" 
 
 John Ruffin, his body thrown back and hands 
 clasped upon his breast, stands staring at Dalguspin 
 and trembling, in an attitude of terror. 
 
 "Yes thaV s what was going to happen to-night, 
 I suppose, and tliaf s how he's to be able to provide 
 for you better?" 
 
 At this John Ruffin releases his son's hand turns 
 facing him fixes on him awful, unspeakable, piti 
 ful eyes and with a great and exceeding bitter cry: 
 "Oh ! Tammie !" sinks into a chair, as if life were 
 going out of him. 
 
 Thomas throws himself upon his Father's knees: 
 
 "Father ! I am innocent ! I am innocent !" 
 
 "Arrest him !" said Dalguspin to the officer. 
 
 The officer seizes Thomas, who. with tears and im 
 ploring hands, repeats the agonizing cry: 
 
 "Father ! I am innocent ! I am innocent!" 
 
 His Father could not speak. He could only raise 
 his eyes to Heaven. 
 
 Robert Small's hour had come. 
 
 "Stay, officer!" he cries, rushing forward. "He 
 is innocent ! I hid that money there !" 
 
 Huzzas irrepressible burst from Friend Peale and 
 party. Dalguspin and Noals turn to escape by the 
 outer door, near which Friend Peale and Sandy are 
 standing.
 
 318 Thomas Ruflin. 
 
 "Seize 'm!" cries Small to the latter. "They are 
 the robbers ! Can you hold them, while I explain'*" 
 
 "Aye! aye! Sir," replies Sandy, who had Noals 
 as secure, as Friend Peale had Black Isaac. "I'm 
 lively and happy. In fact I feel like a jay-bird." 
 
 Miss Kitty and Sabina were now exceedingly nigh 
 the borders of a tit; and had not Sabina possessed 
 a handy method of letting off excess of sentiment, 
 the tit would have been inevitable. Her explosions 
 were truly remarkable. As for Miss Kitty, fearing 
 Noals in his struggles would get away, she rushes 
 to the aid of Sandy, who, getting his arm well 
 around her waist, charges her: 
 
 "Hand me tight and gude and he canna rin awa' 
 wi' us." 
 
 Meanwhile, some hurried whispered words pass 
 from Small to the officer, and the latter releases 
 Thomas, and puts BJack Isaac and Noals under ar 
 rest. Thomas rushes to his Father, whom the sud 
 den turn of affairs and whirl of emotion have 
 brought to his feet. He folds his son in his arms 
 then turns to give thanks to the stranger. 
 
 "Whoever you be," he said, approaching Small, 
 "God bless you for ever and for ever for saying my 
 son is innocent." 
 
 "Do you not know me, Sir?" 
 
 "I can't say I do. My sight is dim and the light 
 is dim" peering at him. "But I think I've heard 
 the voice before." 
 
 "This is Robert, your lost Boy !"
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 CLOUD CAP. 
 
 With a rage for adventure Robert Ruffin left the 
 most enviable of homes. He was shrewd naturalty, 
 yet, starting out devoid of experience, in profitless 
 schemes soon lost his means. He made his way up 
 North into the back country, and when last heard 
 of had enlisted for the Black Hawk war of 1832. 
 The fortunes of that war he followed to its close, 
 and for conspicuous gallantry at the decisive battle 
 of Bad Axe River on the left bank of the Missis 
 sippi, was noticed personally by General Whiteside. 
 Drifting* down the Mississippi, he landed at New 
 Orleans battered and out of pocket, yet bent on ad 
 venture still. He had friends and kindred in the 
 city, in the House of Thomas Sanford & Co., but 
 was too proud to make himself known. Because he 
 could not write favorably, and would not write 
 falsely, he had ceased writing home. From New 
 Orleans he worked a ship passage to Brazil, attract 
 ed thither by the gold reports. A year and more 
 spent in this southern half of the western continent, 
 had for net results nothing beyond an addition to 
 his stock of knowledge of human nature, and a
 
 320 Thomas Ruffin. 
 
 mining experience an experience which he turned 
 subsequently to good account. 
 
 Working a passage back, with the roving spirit on 
 the wane, he again landed at New Orleans. Mexico 
 and Texas were then at war. The war spirit in New 
 Orleans was rampant to avenge the Alamo, and young 
 Ruffin soon found himself in General Houston's 
 army. At San Jacinto he was wounded, but fought 
 through, and towards the close of the battle saved 
 the life of a disabled Mexican officer, who, having 
 surrendered, was about to be bayonetted by a ruffian 
 soldier. A warm friendship sprang up between 
 them, and the officer, about to return to his country 
 upon the declaration of peace, invited Robert to ac 
 company him, out of gratitude offering his benefac 
 tor an interest in the mines on his estate. 
 
 Young Ruffin was looking homeward wistfully. 
 But seeing an opportunity to return with something 
 in hand, he accepted the officer's munificence. His 
 Brazil experience now stood him in good sfead, and 
 he worked his mine so successfully, striking a lode of 
 unusual richness, that within an almost incredibly 
 brief period he had accumulated as much gold as he 
 could carry conveniently belted round him, and, 
 sighing for home, bade his friend adieu. 
 
 His purpose was to ship at Vera Cruz for New 
 Orleans. But the first vessel thither traded likewise 
 with the city, where his father and brother were 
 now living, and the character of the cargo was such 
 as to require the skipper to sail for the northern 
 city first. While at the port occurred the incident
 
 Thomas Ruffin. 321 
 
 which led to his entering Dalguspiu's service. Re 
 specting the fine imposed by the court, it did not 
 require a second thought to have him act on Black 
 Isaac's suggestion, and not touch the gold. He 
 had just so many pounds of the royal metal. At $16 
 to the ouce (its normal value those days) it made a 
 certain round sum which he was especially desirous 
 to take home intact. Again, this gold was packed 
 away and secured about his person in the most artis 
 tic and careful manner, and it was advisable to leave 
 it undisturbed, if possible, on the journey. And, 
 withal, he considered that to offer nuggets for sale 
 would involve risk of discovery that he carried 
 treasure, and attendant danger. 
 
 How through Mrs. Peale he discovered the pres 
 ence of his Father and Brother, and how near the 
 shock came to making a discovery of himself, have 
 been related. Just prior to this, before hinting his 
 scheme to Dalguspin, Noals, having heard of Rob 
 ert's character through the Pawnbroker and his 
 moonshine about going abroad, had approached him 
 as the Cracksman, intimating that one of the Banff s 
 employees might be tricked to bear the burden. 
 Robert's fears immediately were aroused. Wary, 
 too, and needle-witted, he became suspicious and 
 determined to remain Robert Small, the incognito 
 he had assumed upon his arrest, and keep broad 
 awake. By keyholing and otherwise he discovered 
 the real robbers, and finding his Brother was to be 
 ensnared, entered into the plot with the full force of 
 his capacity for adventure, playing parts peculiarly
 
 322 Thomas Ruffin. 
 
 trying yet necessarily played, to entrap the vil- 
 lians. 
 
 The discovery of Robert, following immediately 
 upon the vindication of Thomas, was too much for 
 John Ruffin. He fell into a swoon from which, 
 however, he soon recovered through the good offices 
 of Miss Kitty, skilled, as the exigencies of her 
 position required, in the administration of simple 
 remedies; and then ensued another transporting 
 scene, the meeting between Father and Son, between 
 Brother and Brother, and between John Ruffin and 
 his old friends; for the sudden great swell of su 
 preme joy broke through the barrier of his anti 
 pathies, and John Ruffin wept again upon Friend 
 Peale's neck and Sandy's. Miss Kitty and Sabina, 
 too, were full participants in the jubilation. Miss 
 Kitty said she never rejoiced so in all her life long, 
 declaring solemnly she was so happy she did not 
 intend to say "no" to any human being for a whole 
 week a remark let fall, as it happened, within 
 Sandy's hearing, and which the wide-awake Scot 
 did not fail, within the time limit, to bring home to 
 the Housekeeper. Even the officer glad to be on 
 the same side with a citizen of so much consequence 
 as Friend Peale caught the spirit of the occasion, 
 and delayed with his prisoners to offer congratula 
 tions. 
 
 Next morning early Mrs. Peale called, with her 
 good man, and the scene of the previous night in a 
 measure was repeated. Before they left it was 
 arranged the Peales pressing the invitation upon
 
 Thomas Ruffin. 323 
 
 their old friend and refusing to be denied that the 
 Rnffins should come over that afternoon and remain 
 with them until something might be settled touch 
 ing the business future of Robert and Thomas. 
 Friend Peale had a plan of his own, to make the 
 evening memorable, and was aided, too, by Robert. 
 For having heard how the latter was belted, he got 
 his promise to keep it a secret and defer the- exhi 
 bition, till after tea. 
 
 It was a notable "Tea," that evening. If not as 
 thronged as "Teas" are nowadays, nor the styles so 
 fashionable, its joyousness- was unsurpassed. - The 
 company was all of one mind and one heart, with no 
 lack of topics of conversation of a highly exhilara 
 ting character. Sandy Johnson was there, you may 
 be sure, an honored guest. In John Ruffin a minor 
 physical revolution had taken place. He was lifted 
 up, made anew, running over with happiness. As 
 his special servant, Sabina, for this particular occa 
 sion, had been sent over, to serve; and her face was 
 illuminated and mouth kept stretched in one un 
 broken smile, and her whole body in a quiver of 
 excitation, as she bustled about the table. 
 
 Tea over, they repaired to the drawing-room. Pres 
 ently Robert was called upon to repeat the story of 
 his adventures. He gave a racy narrative, remark 
 ing, as he closed with his mining experience, that 
 he had on his person some Mexican mementoes to 
 exhibit. Removing coat and vest he showed on 
 arm and neck the remains of wounds from Mexican 
 lance and musket.
 
 324 Thomas Ruffin. 
 
 "This," he said, unbuckling a belt, "is another 
 Mexican souvenir, and happily of another charac 
 ter." 
 
 The belt, a most ample one, was of buckskin 
 doubled on itself, with the edges stitched together, 
 except where left open for the mouths of pouches 
 formed by stitching the belt across. It was well 
 worn, indeed, with many bulgings standing out, and 
 sagged greatly, though sustained by broad stout 
 buckskin straps passing over the shoulders. 
 
 "This is a trophy from the mines of Mexico," said 
 Robert, exhibiting from one of the pouches a lump 
 of pure gold as large as the thumb, and which shone 
 again from the continued friction of the buckskin. 
 "These pouches," he went on, as he turned towards 
 his Father and laid the belt across his knees, "hold 
 twenty-five pounds in gold dust and nuggets, and 
 the value is five thousand dollars. After all, Sir, 
 my wanderings seem to have been guided by a mer 
 ciful Providence." 
 
 The ejaculations and congratulations over, John 
 Ruffin exclaimed : 
 
 "Yes, yes, indeed, Providence is filling my cup. 
 He has given me back a son with gold in his hand. 
 And all along He has been giving me and mine 
 friends in this city all these here that I didn't 
 know of. And there's another friend, too, He has 
 given me, that I did know of. O if she were here 
 to see our joy !" 
 
 "What friend is that, John ?" asked Friend Peale. 
 
 "Sister Jessica."
 
 Thomas Ruffin. 325 
 
 "Thee may see her this very evening." 
 
 "O do you know Sister Jessica ?" 
 
 "Certainly I do. Very well, indeed. She was 
 invited to meet thee, but comes late. I think she 
 has just arrived, and will bring her in" rising, to 
 leave the room. 
 
 As Friend Peale, a few moments after, entered 
 with the Sister, John Ruffin rose from his chair to 
 meet her, when Friend Peale remarked : 
 
 "On this special occasion Sister Jessica consents 
 to be uncovered," lifting the veil, as he spoke. 
 John Ruffln drew back gave an intense look then 
 openefl wide his arms, and Amy Sanford rushed 
 into them. 
 
 What followed John Ruffin's finding a daughter, 
 as it were, and under such circumstances, the cumu 
 lative effect upon him of these renewals of great joy; 
 the tumult in Thomas Ruffin's breast as he beheld 
 Amy's chastened and maturer charms, and recalled 
 his confessions to Sister Jessica; the beaming coun 
 tenance of Friend Peale at bringing about so happy 
 a turn; the swell of deep-felt joy from every heart 
 present, acting and reacting upon each other we 
 leave to the reader's imagination to fill out. The 
 whirl of emotion received another stir presently from 
 the entrance of Aunt Sanford, she being the last to il 
 lustrate this independent and contemporaneous con 
 verging of closely related personalities, through a 
 concatenation of circumstances whereby exact truth 
 is often stranger than fiction. 
 
 Nestled close to John Ruffin's side Amy now had
 
 826 Thomas 
 
 to tell her story: How failing health compelling her 
 to leave New Orleans, she had secured through 
 Friend Peale's good offices, a position in the school 
 where she had studied that in a long and critical 
 illness from enteric fever she had been tenderly 
 nursed at a Friend's Church Home by a dear Sister 
 Jessica, member of a sisterhood connected with the 
 Home that Sister Jessica took the fever, presuma 
 bly from herself, and died that she then entered the 
 sisterhood, taking the name of Jessica, and purpos 
 ing, as far as she could, to fill the place of her de 
 parted friend that, as Sister Jessica, she had tried 
 to minister to him and that in all things, both in 
 continuing the incognito and in first assuming it, 
 she had acted under the advice of Friend Peale and 
 the physician to The Home with further particu 
 lars and reasons for the disguise, as set forth or 
 implied in Sister Jessica's letter in another chapter. 
 Robert Ruffin's gold wrought a change in Friend 
 Peale's views touching Thomas' business future. 
 The clerkship he had in view for him, was dismissed. 
 The young men could now become established on 
 their own account. Under the ordinary condition of 
 affairs, the valuation of this sum of gold would have 
 been five thousand dollars ten thousand in present 
 current funds; but at that juncture it was worth a 
 great deal more. The times then were out of joint. 
 It was but a month or two prior to the disastrous 
 panic of 1837. The finances of the country were in 
 a deplorable state; and gold being at a high pre 
 mium, Friend Peale found no difficulty in negotiat-
 
 Thomas Ruffin. 327 
 
 ing for Robert and Thomas a joint interest in an 
 establised and reputable firm of grocers. This en 
 abled the sons to take at once a house and comfort 
 ably domicile their Father. 
 
 To bring the rest of our acquaintances up to date : 
 Dalguspin and Noals were tried, convicted, and sen 
 tenced to fine and imprisonment. Dalguspin died 
 in prison. Noals served through his term, and left 
 the city. Our friend Sandy, in due time, led Miss 
 Kitty to the altar; nor was it long before his intelli 
 gence, backed by the Peale influence, won for him 
 the vacant post of Superintendent. And Sabina 
 poor, simple-minded, merry-hearted, good-natured 
 Sabina she remained a fixture at The Home. Sabina 
 was alone in the world, with no kindred that she 
 knew of, her father, who had brought her from Vir 
 ginia, having died. She had sense enough to dis 
 charge the homely duties of her station. Ignorant 
 and unknown beyond her local habitation, she was 
 faithful to her broom and brush, said her prayers, 
 had a ready hand and a smile for everybody, and 
 closed her earthly account with better prospects 
 ahead, than many a monarch or millionaire. 
 
 A few years have gone by. Thomas Ruffin has 
 prospered. It is a winter evening at his happy 
 home. A lovely child is sitting on his Father's 
 v knee. It's name is Thomas, and it has full bright 
 brown eyes and chestnut hair just like its mother's. 
 A flower stand holds a posy of Mosses. Thomas 
 Ruffin and the florist are good friends. Amy and
 
 328 Thomas Ruffin. 
 
 himself often visit his conservatory and have many 
 a lightsome laugh over memories of other days. 
 
 Ten years more have flown. Thomas Ruffin looks 
 a personable man, of fine presence and robust 
 health. Amy has been all a wife could be. 
 His son, a bright generous boy, is now thirteen 
 an only child, but in his Father's estimation 
 worth a million. In the order of nature John 
 Ruffin, of course, has declined physically. Men 
 tally, under the influence of the most favorable 
 surroundings, he has risen to the level of his possi 
 bilities and is a glad-hearted old man. In the do- 
 main of affairs, Thomas Ruffin, keeping his eye 
 steadily on life's aim and using legitimate means, 
 has prospered abundantly. The business of the 
 Firm has passed into the hands of the brothers. 
 "Ruffin & Bro." is a leading House among the city's 
 great merchants. They own ships and import from 
 Brazil and the West Indies. Wealth has flowed in 
 and enabled Mr. Ruffin to realize the dream of his 
 life, the repurchase of Cloud Cap. 
 
 Mr. Kyle who, it will be remembered, bought the 
 property under the decree of the court being resi 
 dent at New Orleans and making but flying visits to 
 Cloud Cap, the estate, controlled by a manager, had 
 fallen back. Mr. Ruffin restored it to its old place 
 in the front rank among the splendid establishments 
 of this famous district. We use the word "famous" 
 advisedly. We are writing absolute facts. The 
 reader could be taken to this district to-day and 
 have the localities we describe pointed out. The
 
 Thomas Ruffin. 329 
 
 scenes outlined are historically true. Some of its 
 citizens, illustrating the type, could be called by 
 name one, at the date of our narrative, being a dis 
 tinguished United States Senator. It was a district 
 then of magnificent plantations, and represented 
 great wealth, culture, and enterprise enterprise 
 restricted, by the economic conditions of the day, to 
 agriculture. In a general way it was typical of the 
 South. It is profoundly misleading, as has been 
 truly said, the phrase "New South," if it is meant 
 to be inferred that the old South stands for indo 
 lence and ignorance. There was immensely more 
 wealth, more liberal education, more statesmenship, 
 more enterprise in the South then, than now; and 
 "New South" should be rather a shortened phrase 
 for "Renewing South," the South struggling to re 
 cover her former self. The owners of these estates, 
 reared under the influence of lofty ideals, were cul 
 tivated, intelligent, broad-minded citizens, of high 
 sense of honor, firm adherants to priciple, purity 
 and directness of aim, and barring perhaps here 
 and there a degree of stateliness bore themselves 
 with an engaging grace and dignity befitting eleva 
 tion of character gentlemen, the ornaments and 
 guard of the land. They were the creators and rep 
 resentatives of public opinion, and reflected upon 
 the period in which they lived the hue of their own 
 qualities. With the plantations under the immedi 
 ate direction of the managers, they had time for the 
 thorough study of affairs, and furnished material 
 for a grade of public men of commanding ability,
 
 330 Thomas Ruffin. 
 
 integrity, and courage, who, challenging leadership, 
 wielded vast influence in shaping national legisla 
 tion, and with whom the run of those to-day is in 
 painful contrast. 
 
 The social side, in its way, was no less notable for 
 brilliant entertainments, presided over by the charm 
 ing ladies of the mansion, and tended by the trained 
 family servants, the courtly slaves of courtly mas 
 ters, with a port and a high breeding and a pride of 
 character which the Congo negro never realized be 
 fore, and has not realized since, bookish though he 
 be. 
 
 With a free and loving hand and under the stim 
 ulus of a generous rivalry, Mr. Ruffin entered upon 
 the restoration of Cloud Cap. His heart was in the 
 South, and he purposed, when his fortune reached 
 a certain point, to wind up affairs North and pass 
 here the evening of life. He increased the acreage 
 rejuvenated and refurnished the' mansion, adding 
 many improvements and conveniences suggested by 
 his city experience restored and retouched out 
 house and cabin put the fields in the best possible 
 condition and made Cloud Cap, more than ever be 
 fore, the pride of the district. The work required 
 time 'and repeated visits South. He had kept it all 
 from his Father. The restoration having been com 
 pleted, towards the close of that decennary we have 
 taken from his life, he made known to his Father 
 what he had done, and announced an approaching 
 visit with his family to Cloud Cap. As infirm as 
 John Ruffin now was, the journey, by sail and steam-
 
 Thomas Ituffin. 331 
 
 boat, was easily borne. And the moring of return ! 
 What ! what ! a morning to John Ruffin ! It was 
 the 21st of April, and the weather, as seemly, put 
 on a glorious face for the occasion. Yesterday so 
 dry, so windy, so dusty and disagreable. A cloud 
 arose in the night. The air thundered, Thine arrows 
 went abroad, and the rain fell. This morning of 
 return all is lovely. The birds are out and gay. 
 The young leaves so soft and velvety. And gentle 
 breezes blow fresh and inspiring, sweet with the 
 flowers of an early spring. Of course it's a holliday 
 for the slaves, very many of whom are there that 
 John Ruffin remembers. Of course they are all in 
 Sunday rig and line the avenue of approach to the 
 mansion. And when the outrider, with spaniels 
 bounding at the horse-heels, herald the approach, 
 what cheers go up ! And how the cheers deepen 
 and by turn are answered back from the flies, when 
 the open carriage, with grey-haired Cupid on the 
 box, rolls through, and the old master, remembered 
 for his considerate kindly .heart, after years of 
 affliction and trial, has come again into his own. 
 
 Leaving affairs in his brother's hands, Mr. Ruffin, 
 with his family, passed a portion of the winter 
 and spring of each year at Cloud Cap, dispensing 
 a splendid hospitality and giving entertainments 
 which were the events of the season. It was during 
 the last visit in this decennary that his aged Father, 
 perfectly satisfied with the portion Providence had 
 allotted him, was called to a higher home, resting in 
 the arms of his beloved son, and for his gift thanking
 
 332 Thomas Ruffin. 
 
 Him with his latest breath, to whom in his affliction 
 he had drawn nigh. 
 
 Those who insist upon having a story to end 
 pleasantly, should put by the book here. The 
 reader who would follow Cloud Cap to its actual 
 historical close, may do so in the few lines that 
 ensue. 
 
 Ten years again pass. A horror of great darkness 
 has settled over the land. Red-handed war has 
 severed states and parted father and son ! Mr. 
 Ruffin, having transferred to the South the greater- 
 portion of his wealth, was winding up his affairs 
 preparatory to final removal to Cloud Cap, where 
 his son, enamoured of life there and now a young 
 man of majority, had been more than a year in charge, 
 when the war-cloud burst. With the profundest 
 concern he had followed the preceding angry dis 
 cussions and deepening threats of rupture. War 
 nowadays may be topic of senatorial flippancy. To 
 one of Mr. Ruffin' s mould it was the unspeakable 
 horror it really is. By sentiment and by interest 
 Thomas Ruffin was a Southern man through and 
 through. His heart was in the South, his property 
 concentrated there, his home now practically there. 
 But he was one of those Southern men who could 
 not bring himself to think, and was vigorous in im 
 pressing the opinion upon his son and others, that 
 the circumstances of the presidential election of 
 1860, .as much to be deplored as they were, alone and 
 in themselves could justify a disruption of the states, 
 whatever might be the view held touching the nature
 
 Thomas Ruffin. 333 
 
 of their political union. But his son, high-spirited as 
 he was dutiful, was in intimate contact with the fiery 
 Southern leaders. With the first cannon a torrent 
 of passion swept the South. Especially in this dis 
 trict of great plantations and multitude of slaves, 
 the effect was indescribable. San Domingo of 1791 
 was before the eyes of the citizens its awful scenes 
 of uproar, butchery, and beastly outrage. The furor 
 was overwhelming. The young men flew to arms, 
 and this son was among them. Mr. Ruffin made 
 every effort to get to him, or at least get news. 
 The embargo cut him off by sea. Repeated attempts 
 to penetrate the lines proved fruitless. Weeks and 
 weeks of fears and sore distress passed without 
 tidings. At last they came that Cloud Cap had 
 been confiscated, as the property of an enemy; and 
 his son slain in battle. 
 
 An individual dies. A race abides. Mr. Ruffin 
 lived on a retired noble life, quietly dispensing in 
 manifold charities the Old Men's Home first among 
 them the means he accumulated, an unassuming 
 considerate man, humane and courteous. His re 
 maining years are of less concern, than the section 
 and the people, of whom he was one. What is 
 Cloud Cap to-day ? The reader could be taken hither 
 and his own eyes witness the desolation. It is in a 
 portion of the South that has not felt the renewing 
 hand of these latter times. The district once so 
 famous for its cultured, refined, beautiful homes- 
 has been given over almost wholly to negroes; and 
 its chair in Congress, then adorned by one who stood
 
 334 Tliomav liuffih. 
 
 for the best type of all that is full-minded and high- 
 minded and thoroughbred in bearing, is now filled 
 by a coarse demagogue an illustration of a present 
 pervading and portentous malady, the decadence of 
 functionaries, thatmediocres and vulgarians obtrude, 
 that so many more in private life are more learned, 
 honorable, and qualified, than in the halls of council 
 ; which, if true of the nation's legislature, is truer 
 of the state's truest, of the municipal, where so 
 often our splendid cities, in place of being in the 
 hands of representative citizens, the great merchants 
 and business men, the flower of the land, are con 
 trolled by low, inferior, trading sets, propagating a 
 blight from these pregnant centres! Thus much 
 in passing. The great plantations of our district 
 have been divided and subdivided into small farms, 
 and cultivated so unskillfully and so long without 
 return to the generous soil, as barely to support the 
 wretched blacks upon them. The superb residences 
 are falling into ruins, and upon the site of the Cloud 
 Cap mansion stand negro huts with chimneys built 
 of sticks and mud ! 
 
 But the Renaissance will come hither yet and this 
 region blossom forth again. The South, as a whole, 
 is advancing, and under conditions that bid fair to 
 send her forward beyond her former self. Her cli 
 mate, her soil, her mineral wealth, are the one factor. 
 The characteristics of her people, the other. Did 
 she not bear a glorious part in the Revolution and 
 in the war with Mexico ? And if in the last dreadful 
 conflict every succeeding battle field was but another
 
 Thomas Ruffin. 335 
 
 tribute to the manhood of her rank and file, the 
 eminent strength of character they displayed sub 
 sequent to the close of hostilities, when, stripped 
 bare, they were compelled to educate their former 
 slaves and stand disfranchised in the presence of the 
 voting negroes, is more admirable still, and the gage 
 of a people whence will arise citizens and patriots 
 of renown. Confessedly, it is the most American 
 section of our country. Since colonial days its blood 
 has run mainly in one channel the purest repre 
 sentative of the men who fought the Revolution and 
 framed the Constitution of that organizing, indom 
 itable, historic race, which, had not its sea-girt limits 
 forbidden expansion at its centre, long since would 
 have dominated Europe, and whose powerful settle 
 ments on every continent self-interest and the ad 
 vancing spirit of solidarity must yet combine into a 
 confederation dominating the world and dominat 
 ing it beneficently, as the best exponent of the 
 two paramount civilizing forces, commerce and re 
 ligion.
 
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